I wrote a couple of poems.
I write poems sometimes.
I think poems should be fun.
And I have days--
do you have days like this?
I have days when I'm not so hot.
Nobody else has days like that?
I have days when I have to get myself together.
And sometimes you have to psych yourself up right?
I have days when I think I'll stay in the house all day,
because the world shouldn't have to look at me.
You know, days like that.
So I wrote some poems about how really great I am.
And I'd like to read some of them.
The first one, something I had to come
to grips with some years, ago many of us did.
I came to grips with mine a good long time
ago though, the poem isn't terribly old, it was my hair.
This poem is called Homage to my Hair.
When I feel her jump up and dance, I hear the music.
My God, I'm talking about my nappy hair.
She is a challenge to your hand black man.
She is as tasty on your tongue as good greens black man.
She can touch your mind with her electric fingers
and the grayer she do get, my God, the blacker she do be.
[APPLAUSE]