You Got To Go There

I Made Up My Mind To Keep My Feelings To Myself Since They Did Not Seem To Matter To Anyone Else But Me.

When God Had Made The Man, He Made Him Out Of Stuff That Sung All The Time And Glittered All Over. Some Angels Got Jealous And Chopped Him Into Millions Of Pieces, But Still He Glittered And Hummed. So They Beat Him Down To Nothing But Sparks But Each Little Spark Had A Shine And A Song. So They Covered Each One Over With Mud. And The Lonesomeness In The Sparks Make Them Hunt For One Another.

Someone Is Always At My Elbow Reminding Me That I Am The Grand-daughter Of Slaves. It Fails To Register Depression With Me. Slaver Y Is Sixty Years In The Past. The Operation Was Successful And The Patient Is Doing Well, Thank You. The Terrible Struggle That Made Me An American Out Of A Potential Slave Said "on The Line!" The Reconstruction Said "go!" I Am Off To A Flying Start And I Must Not Halt In The Stretch To Look Behind And Weep.

A Thing Is Mighty Big When Time And Distance Cannot Shrink It.

All Gods Who Receive Homage Are Cruel. All Gods Dispense Suffering Without Reason. Otherwise They Would Not Be Worshipped. Through Indiscriminate Suffering Men Know Fear And Fear Is The Most Divine Emotion. It Is The Stones For Altars And The Beginning Of Wisdom. Half Gods Are Worshipped In Wine And Flowers. Real Gods Require Blood.