Jeremy Richards, Nathan Ramos "T.S. Elliot's Lost Hip-Hop Poem" 2002 National Poetry Slam

T.S. Elliot's Lost Hip-Hop Poem 

By Jeremy Richards

Performed by Jeremy Richards and Nathan Ramos at the 2002 National Poetry Slam's Team Championship

Let us roll then

you and I

the evening stretched out against the sky

like a punk ass I laid out with my fat rhymes

the eternal footman is no one to fuck with

alas he shall bring the ruckus

you think that you can step to this

and lo, I hear your steps like Lazarus

echoing through my soul

bring the bass

straight out of Missouri

Harvard University in your face

I’ve got ladies in waiting all over the place

hear them singing each to each

do I dare eat a peach

you’re damn right I

‘ll eat a peach

for who shall stop me with my

roof rock nonstop a clippity-clop a clippity-clop

I hear the horses carrying the wassailers

I’m ready to impale their ears with my verse

rolling off my parched tongue the way

trousers roll off my ankles

no other literati around

can confound

the post-Victorian quickness I bring

to the microphone

— though I shall die alone —

but not before I rock the house

watch me douse you in my eternal flame

of a freaky-ass style

my crew has the knowhow

with the European tangent

Кто твой папа сейчас (kto tvoy papa sejcas)

the Russian for “who’s your daddy now?”

for I will tell you that I have

scuttled across the floors of ancient clubs

and yay, knowing that you may never return

I will tell you this

that I have

been over to a friend’s house for dinner

and lo, the food was not any good

the macaroni soggy the

pees mushy and the

chicken tasted of wood

like the wooden coffin I created for myself

if this is going to be that sort of a party

I will stuff my desire into the mashed potatoes

I tell no lie

I will show you fear

and a handful of hip-hop

making your body rock

your soul shutter

your utter of disbelief

when the old school

the ancient school

returns from busty bookcovers

and scorned lovers

to reign again on

the open poetry mic

bring the pathos

bring the pathos

bring the pathos

you wannabe MC’s just can’t stop

till human voices

wake us

and we back the fuck up

into

eternity

At the National Poetry Slam 2002 Team Championship in Minneapolis, MN, on the stage at The Orpheum Theatre, Jeremy Richards (primary author) and Nathan Ramos of Seattle, WA perform "TS Elliot's Lost Hip Hop Poem" in Round 2 on August 13, 2002. 

Video Lead: Gabrielle Bouliane 
Cameras: Emil Churchin, Mike Cadela 
Video and Audio editing and production: Tazuo Yamaguchi 
PSi Executive Director: Steve Marsh Host City Chair: Cynthia French

"T.S. Eliot's Lost Hip Hop Poem" by Jeremy Richards

T.S. Eliot's Lost Hip Hop Poem
By Jeremy Richards

Let us roll then, you and I,
the evening stretched out against the sky
like a punk ass I laid out with my phat rhymes.

The eternal footman is no one to fuck with.
Alas, he shall bring the ruckus.

You think that you can step
to this, and Lo, I hear your steps like Lazarus
echoing through my soul.

Bring the bass.

Straight out of Missouri,
Harvard University in your face.
I've got ladies in waiting all over
the place, singing each to each;
do I dare eat a peach?

You are damn right I’ll each a peach.
Who shall stop me, with my Prufrock hip hop
non-stop, clippity clop, clippity clop
I hear the horses carrying the wassailers,
I'm ready to impale their ears with my rhymes
rolling off of my parched tongue
the way trousers roll off my ankles.

I get it done better than John Donne.
Pound for pound, like Ezra Pound,
no other literati around can confound
the post-Victorian quickness I bring
to the microphone, though I shall die alone.

But not before I rock the house.
Watch me douse you in my eternal flames
of a freaky-ass style, my crew has the flow
with European tangent, Kto vahsh otsiets saychoss--
the Russian for Who's your daddy now.

For I will tell you.
That I have scuttled across the floors of ancient clubs,
and yea, knowing that you may never return,
I will tell you this:
That I have been over to a friend's house
for dinner, and lo, the food was not any good.

The macaroni, soggy. The peas, mushy.
And the chicken tasted of wood,
like the wooden coffin I've created for myself;
if this is going to be that kind of party
I will stuff my desire in the mashed potatoes.
But I tell no lie, I will show you fear
in a handful of hip hop,

making your body rock, your soul shudder,
your utter disbelief when the old school,
the ancient school, returns
from dusty book covers and scorned lovers
to reign again on the open poetry mic.
Bring the pathos! Bring the pathos!
You wannabe MCs just can't stop...

...'till human voices wake us,
and we back the fuck up

into eternity.

Copyright © Jeremy Richards

Jeremy Richards is a writer, actor, and radio host living in Seattle. His work appears widely, including in “The Spoken Word Revolution Redux,” The Poetry Foundation, McSweeney's, The Morning News, Rattle, and on National Public Radio's “Morning Edition” and “All Things Considered.”

In tours and competitions, Richards was a two-time member of Seattle's National Poetry Slam team, a three-time winner of the Bumbershoot Poetry Slam and was invited to perform on HBO's Def Poetry.

His new collection, “An Inaccurate Theory of Everything,” was recently released from Destructible Heart Press.

Jeremy Richards' website
Jeremy Richards' Livejounral