Porcelain Elephant Remix
by Eric Tu
I’ve been ignoring the radio, just Me&My mp3 player,
listening to the beat box console through my chest,
head movements in tune with pop songs that don’t play
on local stations, to the sounds of dying static turned
remixes when the compact discs skip, but still, I Smile.dk,
keep my head up for better dayz.
Dear Tupac, I move with ambitions, with elegance
move like a samurai with emphasis, see…
I move with the elegance of porcelain elephants,
And present the evidence in music notes, so it’s evident,
China fine, bass lines, like artifacts for the future,
I motion through Chinatown, with jewels between my fingers,
Check it, I’m a judoka poet, with foot sweeps to blink your eyelids,
Don’t sweat the technique as we throw shade at the fuckboi infected,
Hypnotizing with sirens as we attract with our songs, of course,
We affect your numb core until it wants a divorce,
Cause your designs dumbed down for local radio stations,
While I’m next to radio towers, sitting silent on acres,
I’ve been vibing to the 90’s, listening to old cd’s out of
print, with my headphones on, antenna tuned to the vinyl
in my bedroom, they always groove, and LP’s piled on my
nightstand, see…
I’ve been vibing to old records lately, to memories recorded to
the crackle of vintage vinyl, the ink of fine-tip pens scratching
against notebook pages like the tonearm guides the needle,
drawing circles trying to recreate asteroid belts, with gel ink
pentameters in-verse to damage ya, Bebop episodes in the
background as we beat-box, palms down on table tops, and the
bpm is the proof…it’s the evidence, see…
Evidence that’s the emphasis, I’m eloquent like the emporer,
Speak in diffusive wave motions cause we step like judoka,
I stand south like Machida, with my Persona 4 Golden,
From remixing cartridges in my pockets to spoken word projects,
I can run the game from Japan to Atlanta, with animal stamina,
With the wisdom of a fox and the barcode speed of a zebra,
Past the simply simple minded shoguns, holding liquid swords,
Past the hordes of these simple fortune explorers, I’m bored,
In the aftermath of the war and all these foreign explorers,
But I’m prepared for war with my grip firm on solid swords,
Ay, these homies wanna hang with E, man bring the rope,
The only way you hang with me is by your throat
listening to the beat box console through my chest,
head movements in tune with pop songs that don’t play
on local stations, to the sounds of dying static turned
remixes when the compact discs skip, but still, I Smile.dk,
keep my head up for better dayz.
Dear Tupac, I move with ambitions, with elegance
move like a samurai with emphasis, see…
I move with the elegance of porcelain elephants,
And present the evidence in music notes, so it’s evident,
China fine, bass lines, like artifacts for the future,
I motion through Chinatown, with jewels between my fingers,
Check it, I’m a judoka poet, with foot sweeps to blink your eyelids,
Don’t sweat the technique as we throw shade at the fuckboi infected,
Hypnotizing with sirens as we attract with our songs, of course,
We affect your numb core until it wants a divorce,
Cause your designs dumbed down for local radio stations,
While I’m next to radio towers, sitting silent on acres,
I’ve been vibing to the 90’s, listening to old cd’s out of
print, with my headphones on, antenna tuned to the vinyl
in my bedroom, they always groove, and LP’s piled on my
nightstand, see…
I’ve been vibing to old records lately, to memories recorded to
the crackle of vintage vinyl, the ink of fine-tip pens scratching
against notebook pages like the tonearm guides the needle,
drawing circles trying to recreate asteroid belts, with gel ink
pentameters in-verse to damage ya, Bebop episodes in the
background as we beat-box, palms down on table tops, and the
bpm is the proof…it’s the evidence, see…
Evidence that’s the emphasis, I’m eloquent like the emporer,
Speak in diffusive wave motions cause we step like judoka,
I stand south like Machida, with my Persona 4 Golden,
From remixing cartridges in my pockets to spoken word projects,
I can run the game from Japan to Atlanta, with animal stamina,
With the wisdom of a fox and the barcode speed of a zebra,
Past the simply simple minded shoguns, holding liquid swords,
Past the hordes of these simple fortune explorers, I’m bored,
In the aftermath of the war and all these foreign explorers,
But I’m prepared for war with my grip firm on solid swords,
Ay, these homies wanna hang with E, man bring the rope,
The only way you hang with me is by your throat