Don't Speak to Me in Tongues. by William Marsland

[billy]

I don’t want to be
(an)achronistic fossil
suspended in scholastic resin
some academia nut
rutted in the brittle-drone
syndrome of sin-tax and new facts

I don’t require a requiem
of mortarboards flung skyward
cold clichés of camaraderie
or honours bound
that drum out
masonic-like
in words that hiss but make no sound

I don’t yearn for tête-à-tête
with educational grand prix
whose coffee cups are stroked
around the crusted rim
with anecdotal tales
conversely told with vim

I want to see in blacks and whites and grey
what an edifice can say
to me in terms of lay and lie
I want to feel and hear it
fly below my head
I want to know
what’s just been
fucking said