#AmericanWriters #BlackWriters
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left
The rent man knocked. He said, Howdy—do? I said, What Can I do for you? He said, You know
Only dumb guys fight. If I wasn’t dumb I wouldn’t be fightin’. I could make six dollars a day On the docks
When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. Since I come up North de
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
When I get to be a composer I’m gonna write me some music abou… Daybreak in Alabama And I’m gonna put the purtiest so… Rising out of the ground like a sw…
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…
Listen! Dear dream of utter aliveness— Touching my body of utter death— Tell me, O quickly! dream of aliv… The flaming source of your bright…
I’m all alone in this world, she s… Ain’t got nobody to share my bed, Ain’t got nobody to hold my hand— The truth of the matter’s I ain’t got no man.
It was a long time ago. I have almost forgotten my dream. But it was there then, In front of me, Bright like a sun—
