Ears Of The Earth Poem by Ebi Robert

Idolatarers, it hath faile,
Thy weighty day,
Thy religion is dribbling thou hate.
Thy glassful theories are poor, today.
Thy chance is a viper, O' change.

Many methods of this lying world,
Hear the story of the ‘' Lie of this world''
that was a lie not before,
never was it a lie before.

Men grew whiskey on a book,
and ageing to break truth, a hook.
A man who's the wisest fool cooked,
'A flesh of thought'
to trick our love and lust.
'Love us or dir to dust'

and love he won and lies he won

Goggle stole his owlish flash and
the school of his feet numbered him nuffin.
He nudges his age weak-wise,
When weak was his rumpled hand

Authors attended author's assault.
Assault while the salt was their fault.

And then he said:
'Bring me the books of the world
let me read to death'
For my hands are mighty, great gods of the earth.

As a child, he had a child,
he stood by his side.
One word of a single scripture
of no author consorted the black air- 'GOD'

His arms felt the dust of a departed space
so he sneezed and spoke;
'No, my school and faith are weeks
I've colonized thy fear for weeks,
but summon thy fear for trial
for I am death to a myriad burial.
I command the platitude, my age is ill
and as high as the earthy hill,
Hearty go my bones, snob my age
For there is no wisdom in my age
There is no chance, there is God
and no other mighty Lord,
Take heed dust of death,
Hear this O' ear of the earth.