#AmericanWriters #BlackWriters
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 —
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
Only dumb guys fight. If I wasn’t dumb I wouldn’t be fightin’. I could make six dollars a day On the docks
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,
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
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
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?
Droning a drowsy syncopated tune, Rocking back and forth to a mellow… I heard a Negro play. Down on Lenox Avenue the other ni… By the pale dull pallor of an old…
Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is… (America never was America to me.…
I work all day, Said Simple John, Myself a house to buy. I work all day, Said Simple John,
I was so sick last night I Didn’t hardly know my mind. So sick last night I Didn’t know my mind. I drunk some bad licker that
Oh, silver tree! Oh, shining rivers of the soul! In a Harlem cabaret Six long—headed jazzers play. A dancing girl whose eyes are bold
You say I O.K.ed LONG DISTANCE? O.K.ed it when? My goodness, Central That was then!
