I'm going to end with one poem, it's a new poem.
I've been writing a lot of perverted poems.
And this is a poem--
it's one of my more just sort of like topically political poems.
And it rhymes.
And it's sort of kind of rappy.
But I'm not going to rap, because there's nothing
more embarrassing than having a professor rapping.
[LAUGHING]
So I'm going to read it in a very flat voice.
Oh, it's like my superhero poem.
But it's a different kind of superhero.
"Inside the house--" and please--
yeah, maybe I'll just read it.
"Inside the house--" it's new so it's like very raw.
Sorry, I'll stop.
I'll just read it.
"I'm no frail eel, no damsel steal.
My costume's a bathrobe, secure as hazmat.
One look at me--
I'm addictive as transfat.
You can't touch my towel rack.
My batcave's this needle park.
But it's being converted to luxury condos.
So I'm going to sing you my vendetta rondeaus,
my hustling's to get Ovidian, zapping all them white asses,
Sri Lankan tan to Black Papua New Guinean.
Smoke me some superpower gunjeon.
Ain't nothing like loose Lipton.
Then I blast developers to the ghettos in Trenton.
So quilt it, or I'll shoot you a Bindi,
the bleeding between your periwinkle tinklers.
Make bankers squat like untouchable tinklers.
My last attack razzed a Koch plutocrat.
And he turned into Muhammad Hassad.
He tried to rush out of airport Halifax.
But customs held him back.
Mistook him for a wanted Yemen foe, pistol whipped him
when he made a row.
He was a no show at Chevron Texaco.
Cuz shit, now he's in Guantanamo.
So I'm your Conradian nightmare.
Do a little jiggy in that blackface.
But after the show, no way you get your fare back.
You're still Black.
Thank you.
[APPLAUSE]