Life Dosent Frighten Me At All.

I Tire So Of Hearing People Say, Let Things Take Their Course. Tomorrow Is Another Day. I Do Not Need My Freedom When I'm Dead. I Cannot Live On Tomorrow's Bread.

The Calm, Cool Face Of The River, Asked Me For A Kiss

When Poems Stop Talking About The Moon And Begin To Mention Poverty, Trade Unions, Color, Color Lines And Colonies, Somebody Tells The Police.

Melting Pot Harlem-harlem Of Honey And Chocolate And Caramel And Rum And Vinegar And Lemon And Lime And Gall. Dusky Dream Harlem Rumbling Into A Nightmare Tunnel Where The Subway From The Bronx Keeps Right On Downtown.

Everybody Should Take Each Other As They Are, White, Black, Indians, Creole. Then There Would Be No Prejudice, Nations Would Get Along.