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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter  10/23/2014 12:51:03 PM
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  Best Poems From
  MARK R SLAUGHTER (1957)
 
 
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  117.     

Bloodlust

Blood is but a trickle thro’ her veins;
A tear – but only that it feigns
A look of sorrow; the sigh, she had to borrow;
To know, in acting hurt she all but reigns!

A perk of siren head to draw him in;
He melts – a waning from within.
Her clever snare: he marries with her hair.
But now the kiss - a taste of her cuisine!

She in torsion paints a torrid tale -
See her callous grin upon his wail!
- Be the torture, swallow down the pain -
His burden gone, no life must he sustain.



Revenge on Man! Her loss of trust had
Wrought an evil whored in lust:
The crafted vintage e’re the thrust
Behind her ill champagne.



Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
































































Blood of 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
Blood drips
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  118.     

Talons of a Gothic Mind

She of talons, borne from gothic mind-
Steel of blue her chilly stare,
Pitch of black her fetid blood-
Whence there came an evil flare

To terrorise the weeping kind
Befogged in mental mire; to rape
The shore with phallic waves -
And all for lust, her one desire:

Corrupt the sand of innocence
Without a case for penitence,
Or cause for such as reticence -
While coming on her priapismic fire.


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
























































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
   
 

   
   
 

  119.     

Mother Nature

Don't be fooled, it's Mother Nature –
Evil shimmers in the creature –
Absolutely nil of nice to greet you.
Only your selective mind has
Chosen what to see:
A pretty flower, furry mammal,
Butterflies of flashing colour –
Camels trekking on without a drink.

But do you ever stop to think?
Nature is what nature does:
The tearing up of flesh;
A scrawling victim dashed with toxin,
Struggling flies enmeshed in webs;
The cuckoo after all is just a parasite!

Darwin knew this many years ago –
The struggle for survival of the genes,
Using mighty panoplies of
Organisms: their machines.
But under selfish, brutal drive,
Crushingly, they survive and carry on
Through many generations
– And then again, and yet again...

Mutations, errors, and suffering,
Geological events,
Slaughter of the innocent –
So why be meek and reticent?
Dawkins chose to thunder on
And say his peace – God? How come?
Richard knows that when he goes,
That's it! Oh Shit!

You have a brain to model situations
– Those in which you're under threat –
So to help you thrive.
That is why you drive imagination to the limits –
Because you can…
You control exactly what to see through wonderment.
And so you cheat yourself!
A turning of a blind and silent eye;
Pretend that nature really is a glorious ride
Of beauty – just ignore the ugly side.
But sanity is what you crave
To steer you 'way from this depraved
And chilling life,
That has to face her: Mother Nature.




Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009



























































Nature nature, Mother Nature
Nature, nature do you care?
Nature nature, Mother nature
Mother nature ate yer!
Nature nature, Mother nature
Nature nature are you there?
Nature nature, Mother nature
Mother nature hate yer!
Nature, nature, nature bait yer
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  120.     

Musings

Be gentle, sky, and let me rest -
These bones are worn - they lack the zest
Of flesh in life - they're marrowless! -
Their arid surface, nakedness! -
Betrayed in death; no sheen of red
From coursing blood; and blue was shed
Upon the fading out of eyes
That cased the world and gave disguise
To what my deepest thoughts had been -
But now I'm done with all I've seen.


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011





























































































































The Rain of Death

death death death death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death death death death
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter