#AmericanWriters
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
I work all day, Said Simple John, Myself a house to buy. I work all day, Said Simple John,
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 went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
God in His infinite wisdom Did not make me very wise— So when my actions are stupid They hardly take God by surprise
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.
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
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…
How quiet It is in this sick room Where on the bed A silent woman lies between two lo… Life and Death,
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
My name is Johnson— Madam Alberta K. The Madam stands for business. I’m smart that way. I had a
I will take you heart. I will take your soul out of your… As though I were God. I will not be satisfied With the touch of your hand
Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass