#AmericanWriters #BlackWriters
Where is the Jim Crow section On this merry—go—round, Mister, cause I want to ride? Down South where I come from White and colored
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
Only dumb guys fight. If I wasn’t dumb I wouldn’t be fightin’. I could make six dollars a day On the docks
Go home and write a page tonight. And let that page come out of you— Then, it will be true. I wonder if it’s that simple?
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
Landlord, landlord, My roof has sprung a leak. Don’t you 'member I told you abou… Way last week? Landlord, landlord,
The night is beautiful, So the faces of my people. The stars are beautiful, So the eyes of my people. Beautiful, also, is the sun.
My old mule, He’s gota grin on his face. He’s been a mule so long He’s forgotten about his race. I’m like that old mule —
been scared and battered. My hopes the wind done scattered. Snow has friz me, Sun has baked me, Looks like between 'em they done
The calm, Cool face of the river Asked me for a kiss.
When a man starts out with nothing… When a man starts out with his han… Empty, but clean, When a man starts to build a world… He starts first with himself
2 and 2 are 4. 4 and 4 are 8. But what would happen If the last 4 was late? And how would it be
I take my dreams and make of them… and a round fountain with a beauti… And a song with a broken heart and… Do you understand my dreams? Sometimes you say you do,
'Me an’ ma baby’s Got two mo’ ways, Two mo’ ways to do de Charleston!… Da, da, Da, da, da!
When the old junk man Death Comes to gather up our bodies And toss them into the sack of obl… I wonder if he will find The corpse of a white multi—millio…
