Ignoramus

To not smile,

Pariah

An aberrant

Miscreant

Misfit

Just trying

To speak with

This nitwit

But split with

What intellect

Left

I can find

In the weather conditions

Of my cloudy mind

My profession

Is obvious, no?

For why else

Would I dare go

Where others

Don’t care

To lend help

Unsolicited by

An archaic tradition,

A nationalistic

Hellbent

On submission

Like juxtaposed

Visions

Of master and slave

But reversing the roles

They so woefully

Play

Not the same

As one generates

What the will

Subjugates

To apposition

The other

Can’t contemplate

Waiting and waiting

For fate

To come save him

And prostrate

Surrenders

His praises

Betray him

Allay trepidations

Of tepid impatience

For graves to at last

Come to make

His acquaintance