Academic meanness in the blend of old age crisis
Have over-taken the only professor in my country,
He began with a colonial Maths diploma to his current air
Of Doctorate in history of his ethnic pristine African village,
He served all the universities as the chancellor of chancellors,
Unto now to his octogenarian age dressed in full suits of bitterness,
He is strongly jealousy to full scale of intellectual blindness,
In full plumage of faith that none else went to school after himself,
In the parochial mental realm of his foot steps on the sands of time
Being the features and land-marks of education in the land of Africa,
He hates other scholars with passion, but no iota of reason
He feels them defective as their tribes can not produce a professor,
His fear is that who will teach PhD. students after his death,
He refers to his family as center of everything, none else can do
Other than his glorious sons and daughters from his dear wife,
Mrs. Professor speaks twenty four languages; Greek and Russian,
A mere saucer to her strong linguisticised African mandibles,
Who else on earth can have a wife of this sterling caliber?
That made the Kalahari and Sahara deserts to have thunder.