#AmericanWriters
In places like Selma, Alabama, Kids say, In places like Chicago and New York...
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
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 take my dreams and make of them… and a round fountain with a beauti… And a song with a broken heart and… Do you understand my dreams? Sometimes you say you do,
I work all day, Said Simple John, Myself a house to buy. I work all day, Said Simple John,
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run?
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…
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…
The census man, The day he came round, Wanted my name To put it down. I said, Johnson,
Remember The days of bondage— And remembering— Do not stand still. Go to the highest hill
God in His infinite wisdom Did not make me very wise— So when my actions are stupid They hardly take God by surprise
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
'Me an’ ma baby’s Got two mo’ ways, Two mo’ ways to do de Charleston!… Da, da, Da, da, da!