#AmericanWriters
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…
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
Gather quickly Out of darkness All the songs you know And throw them at the sun Before they melt
I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh,
You and your whole race. Look down upon the town in which y… And be ashamed. Look down upon white folks And upon yourselves
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
Tell all my mourners To mourn in red — Cause there ain’t no sense In my bein’ dead.
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—