PROFESSOR OF THEATRICS

• Posted by: isaac muya
• Created: January 15, 2016
• 0

Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!

He was heard along the corridors

Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!

Shouting, banging on all doors

Wake up! Wake up! Wake up

The proffesor was heard shouting

In our rooms it sounded like yelling

We all knew he wouldnt stop

Stopping for him was until we were up

Shivers went down our spines

Little did we know that behind

Behind the brains and that mind

That the rowdy professor  was a kind

The kind that drinks until the mind

Would never, never even be remind

The atrocities, the beckoning shame

The shame too much too little to tame

The professor who we thought was a big name

Was now despicable, with utter shame

One couldnt imagine what a waste of time

Long hours spent in drinking sprees

Long hours spent sleeping behind bushy trees

Who would have thought that his cries

would be heard at night and mornings

Who would have thought of the distress

Brethren's be notified

That beneath those designer suits

lies an inner layer of someone's pursuits

Pursuits of greatness or shame

Clothes are just but garments

Time is of the essence

And yes it caught up with proffesor

Now naked in the streets as a begger

Dancing to everyone's tune lie a guitar

Chanting non utterable utterance

The man who gave people advice

Now seeking small kids' playing device

Who would have seen the demise

Yet alcohol has robbed us a wise

At the end there must be a price

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