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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter  9/23/2014 1:16:12 AM
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  Best Poems From
  MARK R SLAUGHTER (1957)
 
 
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  85.     

First rose

A heart of youthful year was yearning,
Crying out the pain; the burning
Tears would e’er remain until
An answer from the man would see them die.

A sympathetic mirror blessed her –
Softened up the curves, caressed her
Skin to help regain a calm –
Assuage a heaving breast and blushing eye.

And through a struggling mind, a chiming:
Someone at the door; the timing
Perfect and exquisite in the
Reconciliation of her woes.

She took the oak to make the parting,
‘Here! ’ a presentation startling.
Drawing deep through radiant lips, she
Kissed her very dream: a crimson rose.



Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010








































rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  86.     

Future Babies

A flower stands erect upon the stem.

Odd:
It bears the naked flesh of many men –
Pulsing, writhing, arteries humming;
Androgenic fluids chase their channels
To the ground, caking at a mound
Of naked girls, who pout in doubt and
Hurl their rabid glares from eyes
That catch the light of want
And desperation.

Sighs:
They know the separation
Stays their open legs
From bursting cocks.

Masturbation of the mind
Is all they need –
They’re in the docks of
Fate:
The evil Overpopulation’s out to feed
Their thund’rous urge to procreate!

Forget the conjugation, just for once?
Bag the bulbous tits in bras.
I know they want the tongue on c*nts;

But focus! Where’s the room to live?
And think about the future babies.

THINK:

You know they won’t forgive
Your selfish drive to suck, to shag.
The Dying Age of Man will drag
Him down to disappear.

So keep the girls away from sperm –
Don’t let the men up there!


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011





































































































Future future future future future future, where's the future?
Future future future future future future, where?
Future future future future future future,
Future future future future future future, where's the future?
Future future future future future future, HERE!
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  87.     

Search Party

You touched my tongue
With yours - blending buds,
Kindling minds, racing worlds,
Unifying two lovers - one body.

Tongues wrestled violently,
Fluidly, in fluid -
Juice flowed, fluidity rousing -
Endorphin storms erupted;
Hearts raged, blood gorged
Cock, clit, tit.

Search-party hands
- desperate -
Found their feelings,
Feeling up, squeezing, sliding,
Rubbing, working, fingers fiddling.

Lungs breathed - sighing, rushing,
Panting, huffing, heaving
- ciliated turmoil.
Hearts worked harder,
Forcing blood torrents;
Whirlpool minds raced,
Blinded, careless, caring, daring.

Clothes faded, cast out - jetsam.
Skin flesh moulded, melded -
Oh to split! for
Inner flesh wanted in.

Pulses pounded,
Rounded mounds flirted nipples
At the lips;
Phallus begging, forcing, pushing,
Pushed;
Ripples crossing skin dunes
Under shudders:
The Quake of Coming - coming -
Came.

We came.
We found.




Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010























































lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  88.     

A Little Ditty

O! love to me is but a season –
Seldom does it overstay,
And tho' I pain to seek a reason,
Like the dream, it fades away

To leave me once again in awe
Of how the heart can render raw
In loss of love; but then to soar

Atop anew! – and hail adieu!
To her who fled from chance I gave
To see us wed: Then on,
To court another fairer face –
And lose again in end of chase!

I curse the seasons evermore –
They tease me thro' their metaphor:
Starting fresh, their vigour young,
Yet oversoon, the ditty sung.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011












































































































Raining Love

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love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter