By Bate Besong (Published in The Post, July 6-7, 2006)
I
Of what use is a politically
partisan mameluke
in a professorial chair?
Of what use is an
Establishment mole
With an academic’s sceptre?
The ignoramus may be
lulled by your persuasive
lyrics,
But there is septic hatred
In your heart.
Your words are flattering
And smooth,
But full of deadly deceit.
You are always inventing lies.
You stuff your ears
Like a deaf puff-adder.
You look for security
In being wicked.
You love falsehood more than good.
May your fame, now;
Like a broken cistern that
Can hold no water, last
as long
as the equinoctial wind
II
Professor,
You establish your power
By organising the ignorance
Of the Faculty
You pervert and
muzzle discourse – El Shaddai ! –
You are ready
to besmirch
the prescient and
phoenix spirit on campus.
You draw your scimitar, you bend your administrative
Bows; You jabber:
“We are going to make
Comatose your research zeal.
Imperil
your isthmus of narratology;
we will send you – subversive poet -
to our innermost prison.Is it for nothing, then, that we
have ordered your Fellowships
to be placed in the stocks?”
Professor,
May your name, now,
Like a broken down fence, never
Be forgotten
May you go down
Alive, into the
Sanctuary of the dead.
May your jacaranda and nym
Your sun and moon
Always stand still
In your carrion sky.
Why do you boast, All
Sufficient One;Arch-Ignoramus;
Of your
Evil?
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