Belching

My teacher bellows when I err.
My grandfather shouts at my faltered treading.
"You deny the past, the convention.
You are arrogant"
Grandpa may be right, the teacher too!
The teacher calls me "Coon!"
I was ugly.  So he pinches my ears.
He twists my fingers.
"Wrong again"  He shouts.
Yet I am inclined to think differently.
Every deviant act of mine invites a shout.
"You reprobate!"
I cannot understand my follies.
"Mother, what is wrong with me?"
Accusations, accusations! What could be wrong?"
She calmed me.
"Nothing my son.  You choose the right path.
Towards freedom. Towards greatness.
The untrodden path, the golden.
Repetition of the rotten is belching.
Don't do it.  Imbibe novelty."