Ears And Earings Poem by Atef Ayadi

i live in a country of cowboys,
cause, snatching ears of an old man, then his veepee,
is still the language of
taxas rangers of these days.
i love them,
butt,
natalie,
ain't dig what they do.
only country music
on the radio.
and italy is far from her
by
boats.
with your high heals boot,
it wont work.
and i have to tide you up
to me or the pole.
i have a north pole theory,
two many non sense equations
and i am out.
period.
so get your ear straight, and leave your ears on the table.
karma, as the french put it, is a bee that itches itself.
the problem wherein is simple,
elephants slash mammoths are grazing on the land of the
free, i mean with a gun, another gun plus, and tech-toy, to keep the mood cool and straight,
and smooth the weather's anxiety down.
sometimes, they do it, for fun,
sometimes for rage and disgust,
sometimes snatching itself becomes
a warning for better or worse.
like a siren for, natural tornado, hurricane, flood, the three together.
i am not cynical, but the list is, too long two,
and towing a list of debris of all sort, metals, and what civilization brought with it for
the last ten kay.
i am talking to kayla.
so please, read and go,
karma is pain, in the inside.
the chauffeur is locked inside
the limo,
the limo is in the eyes of a tornado,
the tornado with other sibling tornadoes,
are devouring
the beach that found itself,
in the eye of a female hurricane.
boys, the background noise is like
dark music for a moment, country,
rock, for a second
and rock soft takes the next bite.
just imagine a flying radio, in taxas,
or somebody spinning in the air.
i am still struggling with
the concept of karma seven point ow positive, but it is
still fun ride.
so forgive me,
i am counting on your karma.
not that much,
but still i am counting.
.