Talk Talk

New Poem.

While I am always one to enjoy
a fair amount
of multisyllabic intellectual palaver
on the passions and urgencies of the moment,

I must admit
that in these times when
the world is burning down
and so many red swift things
need doing

that too much civil language
and too much theory
can incite in me

an urge
(never indulged, but present nonetheless)
to step away from arguments and speeches
and revert
to a cave-self, 
reaching for something sharp
to slide along
a set of unjust ribs,

thus ending an argument
swiftly and with 
a minimum strain
to my tongue.

It is therefore good that there is college,
that there are learned magazines
and books.

I am no casual killer, mind you;
would not toss a bomb, would not
without some need to save myself;

but there are times
when I am drowned in dialogue,
when I am swept up and away
by theory, when I am turned by chatter
away from my blood-need
to sing and sling steel in response
to another’s blood-provocations;

in those times,
it is good that there is space 
between us.

It is good that there is civilization.
It is so good that there are
schools of thought
and symposiums
and teach-ins
and books
and philosophy

in the violet rage storm
in the space between us,

for I am too tired too often
of talk
to ever be safely
a man of


About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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