| Truth Claude McKay Lord, shall I find it in Thy Holy Church, Or must I give it up as something dead, Forever lost, no matter where I search, Like dinosaurs within their ancient bed? I found it not in years of Unbelief, In science stirring life like budding trees, In Revolution like a dazzling thief � Oh, shall I find it on my bended knee? But what is Truth? So Pilate asked Thee, lord, So long ago when thou wert manifest, As the Eternal and Incarnate Word, Chosen of God and by Him singly blest: In this vast world of lies and hate and greed, Upon my knees, Oh Lord, for Truth I plead |
| One Carolyn M. Rodgers People die from loneliness. Life becomes an incurable disease, a job, an excuse � an operation of sloppy dissections. There is a constipation of the heart, a diarrhea of need. Being is instinct, the body a machine � the mind a lever or the body the lever, the mind the machine; in either case, operating and driving on. And skin tightening up bone until you mouth at the misery and bargain with the ache. This is not to say I am giving up, even though life has pumped me up with the pain. The rules are there. I am the stray one. |
| African American Poets |
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| Peace Langston Hughes We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark They could not see Who had gained The Victory |
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