#AmericanWriters #BlackWriters
My name is Johnson— Madam Alberta K. The Madam stands for business. I’m smart that way. I had a
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
By what sends the white kids I ain’t sent: I know I can’t be President.
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
Here I sit With my shoes mismated. Lawdy—mercy! I’s frustrated!
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
Only dumb guys fight. If I wasn’t dumb I wouldn’t be fightin’. I could make six dollars a day On the docks
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 —
The census man, The day he came round, Wanted my name To put it down. I said, Johnson,
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head w… Let the rain sing you a lullaby. The rain makes still pools on the… The rain makes running pools in th…
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass
I’ve known rivers: I’ve known rivers ancient as the w… flow of human blood in human veins My soul has grown deep like the ri… I bathed in the Euphrates when da…