Selected Poems of Langston Hughes by Langston Hughes Read Free Book Online Page A

now
    Runnin’ an elevator
    In the Dennison Hotel in Jersey.
    Job ain’t no good though.
    No money around.
        Jobs are just chances
        Like everything else.
        Maybe a little luck now,
        Maybe not.
        Maybe a good job sometimes:
        Step out o’ the barrel, boy.
    Two new suits an’
    A woman to sleep with.
        Maybe no luck for a long time.
        Only the elevators
        Goin’ up an’ down,
        Up an’ down,
        Or somebody else’s shoes
        To shine,
        Or greasy pots in a dirty kitchen.
    I been runnin’ this
    Elevator too long.
    Guess I’ll quit now.
Who But the Lord?
    I looked and I saw
    That man they call the Law.
    He was coming
    Down the street at me!
    I had visions in my head
    Of being laid out cold and dead,
    Or else murdered
    By the third degree.
    I said,
O, Lord, if you can
,
    Save me from that man!
    Don’t let him make a pulp out of me!
    But the Lord he was not quick.
    The Law raised up his stick
    And beat the living hell
    Out of me!
    Now, I do not understand
    Why God don’t protect a man
    From police brutality.
    Being poor and black,
    I’ve no weapon to strike back
    So who but the Lord
    Can protect me?
Third Degree
    Hit me! Jab me!
    Make me say I did it.
    Blood on my sport shirt
    And my tan suede shoes.
    Faces like jack-o’-lanterns
    In gray slouch hats
.
    Slug me! Beat me!
    Scream jumps out
    Like blow-torch.
    Three kicks between the legs
    That km the kids
    I’d make tomorrow.
    Bars and floor skyrocket
    And burst like Roman candles
.
    When you throw
    Cold water on me,
    I’ll sign the
    Paper.…
Ballad of the Man Who’s Gone
    No money to bury him.
    The relief gave Forty-Four.
    The undertaker told ’em,
    You’ll need Sixty more
    For a first-class funeral,
    A hearse and two cars—
    And maybe your friends’ll
    Send some flowers.
    His wife took a paper
    And went around.
    Everybody that gave something
    She put ’em down.
    She raked up a Hundred
    For her man that was dead.
    His buddies brought flowers.
    A funeral was had.
    A minister preached—
    And charged Five
    To bless him dead
    And praise him alive.
    Now that he’s buried—
    God rest his soul—
    Reckon there’s no charge
    For graveyard mold.
    I wonder what makes
    A funeral so high?
    A poor man ain’t got
    No business to die
.

MADAM
TO
YOU
Madam’s Past History
    My name is Johnson—
    Madam Alberta K.
    The Madam stands for business.
    I’m smart that way.
    I had a
    HAIR-DRESSING PARLOR
    Before
    The depression put
    The prices lower.
    Then I had a
    BARBECUE STAND
    Till I got mixed up
    With a no-good man.
    Cause I had a insurance
    The WPA
    Said, We can’t use you
    Wealthy that way.
    I said,
    DON’T WORRY ’BOUT ME!
    Just like the song,
    You WPA folks take care of yourself—
    And I’ll get along.
    I do cooking,
    Day’s work, too!
    Alberta K. Johnson—
    Madam
to you.
Madam and Her Madam
    I worked for a woman,
    She wasn’t mean—
    But she had a twelve-room
    House to clean.
    Had to get breakfast,
    Dinner, and supper, too—
    Then take care of her children
    When I got through.
    Wash, iron, and scrub,
    Walk the dog around—
    It was too much,
    Nearly broke me down.
    I said, Madam,
    Can it be
    You trying to make a
    Pack-horse out of me?
    She opened her mouth.
    She cried, Oh, no!
    You know, Alberta,
    I love you so!
    I said, Madam,
    That may be true—
    But I’ll be dogged
    If I love you!
Madam’s Calling Cards
    I had some cards printed
    The other day.
    They cost me more
    Than I wanted to pay.
    I told the man
    I wasn’t no mint,
    But I hankered to see
    My name in print
    MADAM JOHNSON,
    ALBERTA K.
    He said, Your name looks good
    Madam’d that way.
    Shall I use Old English
    Or a Roman letter?
    I said, Use American.
    American’s better.
    There’s nothing foreign
    To my pedigree:
    Alberta K. Johnson—
    American
that’s me.
Madam and the Rent Man
    The rent man knocked.
    He said, Howdy-do?
    I said, What
    Can I do for