#AmericanWriters
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…
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely:
The census man, The day he came round, Wanted my name To put it down. I said, Johnson,
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh,
I look at the world From awakening eyes in a black fac… And this is what I see: This fenced—off narrow space Assigned to me.
Remember The days of bondage— And remembering— Do not stand still. Go to the highest hill
Big Boy came Carrying a mermaid On his shoulders And the mermaid Had her tail
When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left
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 —
I play it cool I dig all jive. That's the reason I stay alive. My motto
In places like Selma, Alabama, Kids say, In places like Chicago and New York...