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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter  1/27/2015 2:20:37 AM
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  Best Poems From
  MARK R SLAUGHTER (1957)
 
 
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  85.     

Syrup Sponge

Pour a pint of cream
Upon my spongy bulge!

Scoop me with a
Hefty spoon;

Taste my essence -
Do you swoon?

Feed your self-esteem; indulge
In me until you burst -

Death by syrup sponge - you're cursed!

And as the count in inches gain
Upon your weary waist, the strain
Will tell, but you'll not care -
Steeped in sponge, you're unaware!


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

















































































food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food
food food food food food food
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  86.     

The Piano Lurched

Contact was sharp…

I jolted from immediacy of senses torn from mind -
Such was I at unawares with you;
To strike with Master's single chord that pounced and caught me blind -
Piano, how you lurched and rent me through!

Delightful music welcomed me to drift in quasi-syncope,
Soft tranquillo sought to rest my bones,
I glided reaching largo, sang with sweet cantabile, and
Forte let me in to louder tones.

I cried with lacrimoso, squirmed when agitato flared,
My hearing rang when fingers danced the trill.
And so it was, this maestro grand was genius declared -
Acting out in music for the thrill.

Translating pen to piano, this player takes me back thro' time:
In the chamber, fine composers charm;
I watch the manic hands of Liszt abound with charm sublime;
Mozart teased my mood with stark alarm.

Then entered Bach to demonstrate his mathematic flare,
Calculating notes aloft of form.
And I - the minion audience - sat wanting in my chair,
Having heard my idols all perform.

Did Darwin's theory tell at all why Man evolved this way?
Why would music help him to survive?
But scientific muse had veered my thoughts from this display, and
Music called: ‘Just listen - you're alive! '

The maestro draws conclusion; lets the piano die a death
To stand as wood, inert just as before -
A pollished casket lined with keys, at calm from naught of breath,
Bade me scream: ‘Bravo! ' and ‘Hail! Encore! '

He wakes the box to dance again with noble works of art -
Resurrected, fully primed with zest.
Now even I was back to life with reason in my heart -
Heightened from the pounding in my chest.


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved













































































music music music music music music music
music music music music music music music
music music music music music music music
music music music music music music music
music music music music music music music
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  87.     

Biker

oil-glide -
piston rides upon the ring
to thrum in their betrothal

chrome-hot mirror pipes
blush out reflections

And in his head
he's air-cooled

King of his horizons

talking torque
unto himself

dreaming out a route -
the land of Sixty-Six

And on he roars
baying

his wife at home
praying.
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  88.     

Epiphany (Adapted for Liquid Rooms by Karsten Fundal)

Out on the blue air
I breathe

Another blue
Inside

Freed

Pausing

Dreamless

Draws up the calm-clear
Terrain

As undertones of mind

Lead…

Ride, wend, find
Ascend
Astride a blend
Of seas
Rain
Aligning land

The inner me
A firmer hand

Aloft
Alone
A scent of
My Domain

Lucid eyes roar

Motility swells in waves
And life

From shallow-blue to black

The agonies of time
Appeased

Our shell of gas plays out
In shower-rays
A sense of scale

I coast along the moon

Understand
The being

Seeing me
They all

Follow through
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter