#AmericanWriters
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 live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
Listen! Dear dream of utter aliveness— Touching my body of utter death— Tell me, O quickly! dream of aliv… The flaming source of your bright…
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…
Tell all my mourners To mourn in red — Cause there ain’t no sense In my bein’ dead.
And that is what poetry may do, wrap up your dreams, protect and preserve and hold them until maybe they come true. Columbus dreamed of finding a new world, he found it. Edison dreamed ...
I play it cool I dig all jive. That's the reason I stay alive. My motto
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
You say I O.K.ed LONG DISTANCE? O.K.ed it when? My goodness, Central That was then!
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—
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
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
I work all day, Said Simple John, Myself a house to buy. I work all day, Said Simple John,
That Justice is a blind goddess Is a thing to which we black are w… Her bandage hides two festering so… That once perhaps were eyes.