Systematical Poem by Atef Ayadi

if you're poor go chapter 7. period
if you're rich,
of trump size and up, go chapter 13.
it is all on white papers,
and with chinese ink;
i mean made in china, the china, we are being told to hate so much. simply because elon must or musk and tesla co can't compete with the flow.
here and there, some talk about
freedom, democracy now, and exceptionalism,
but if one investigates
with patricia bath's ophthalmological instruments
and
directives,
or simply
with neil degrasse's eyes and
precious mind,
surely, ninety nine out of hundred of congress men and women appear to be, being constantly babysitted by an eye-pack
or a wolf-pack of wall street and google's military complex abc and over seas journal and search and destroy engines.
do not worry about me.
i am poor, described as such and worse, from the beginning to the end.
except i love poverty,
don't you?
mainly if poverty is the name of a woman slash, a girl, slash an animal you grow up with.
i do not know where america is going to go if it looses all its wars and hollywood's and netflix's monetary hegemonies?
one may need to revise chapter three, four or five for that matter.