#AmericanWriters
Well, son, I’ll tell you: Life for me ain’t been no crystal… It’s had tacks in it, And splinters, And boards torn up,
In the Quarter of the Negroes Where the doors are doors of paper Dust of dingy atoms Blows a scratchy sound. Amorphous jack—o’—Lanterns caper
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…
I worked for a woman, She wasn’t mean— But she had a twelve—room House to clean. Had to get breakfast,
Here I sit With my shoes mismated. Lawdy—mercy! I’s frustrated!
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—
The ivory gods, And the ebony gods, And the gods of diamond and jade, Sit silently on their temple shelv… While the people
Gather quickly Out of darkness All the songs you know And throw them at the sun Before they melt
Oh, silver tree! Oh, shining rivers of the soul! In a Harlem cabaret Six long—headed jazzers play. A dancing girl whose eyes are bold
The rent man knocked. He said, Howdy—do? I said, What Can I do for you? He said, You know
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
To fling my arms wide In some place of the sun, To whirl and to dance Till the white day is done. Then rest at cool evening
When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left
Where is the Jim Crow section On this merry—go—round, Mister, cause I want to ride? Down South where I come from White and colored
I got to leave this town. It’s a lonesome place. Got to leave this town cause It’s a lonesome place. A po’, po’ boy can’t