Professionalism

This is professionalism! Something on the brink, You could say, Of existentialism. It's nonnegotiable, This business of price And dice And "rightful" wives, No. It's immovable. The roulette spins, The Russians drink, And a bullet escapes An unfortunate skull— The brains of a brainiac— The brainiac, Always the maniac, The one without Any brain whatsoever. And we sing forever About rosies and rings And things called posies, Falling and fallen bodies— This is professionalism! It holds no friends, Nor boundaries or Walls or streets. Stock goes not Negatively toward Professionalism because Professionalism is Undeniable and untraceable! The road less traveled Is the entrepreneur's road, A road of love and sex And microagressions Being spit from the mouths of the travelers, Because he's an adventurer, A trooper, a keeper, But his own man. He'll take a hand, An arm, a couple legs, Two new eyes, a head, And take a new man, Because that's professionalism— Political magnetism: The East collides with The West to monopolize Dares and obsessions While North perpetually wonders why it always Finds its way South. What is class but a Hierarchy of officials? Professionalism holds No such thing.