There's Room For Everyone At The Rendezvous

Africa, Help Me To Go Home, Carry Me Like An Aged Child In Your Arms. Undress Me And Wash Me. Strip Me Of All Of These Garments, Strip Me As A Man Strips Off Dreams When The Dawn Comes. . . .

Poetic Knowledge Is Born In The Great Silence Of Scientific Knowledge.

Out Of The Sky, The Birds, The Parrots, The Bells, Silk, Cloth, And Drums, Out Of Sundays Dancing, Children's Words And Love Words, Out Of Love For The Little Fists Of Children, I Will Build A World, My World With Round Shoulders.

In The Whole World No Poor Devil Is Lynched, No Wretch Is Tortured, In Whom I Too Am Not Degraded And Murdered.

There's Room For Everyone At The Rendezvous Of Victory.