Miss Laspada,do you still breathe
within unctuous incompetence?
Your obese air sustains you well
in your dilatory world.
In my eyes you were a saint that
never was,would not be;
though,as untimely as you are,may be.
Your image is of one
I know: round opalescent form
like the nimbus above your
pate,shimmering with ethereal wisdom.
We are of emptiness,such as
your social interactions.
Upon us,you indite your scrawl.
Emptiness I return,
And like that which I receive from you,
you know not of its birth.
They shall parade in mindless beat.
I march in opposition
of the conformity that they hail;
antithetic from experience
they only dream will avail.
Like an apparition,I pervade
the walls that immure me:
those academe halls,lifeless throughout
time,and timeless is the
wisdom breathing God's legacy in me.