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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter  7/30/2014 10:19:30 PM
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  Best Poems From
  MARK R SLAUGHTER (1957)
 
 
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  13.     

Lonely Life

Lonely on the land I walk,
Lonely cross the sea I sail,
Lonely air of beach I stroll –
This lonely life doth take its toll.

Lonely trek of woodland trail,
Lonely mist in haze o’ dawn,
Lonely spies the bird of prey
In lonely circles all astray.

Lonely be the dark of night
When sleep is but a yearning wish,
To dream of sweet companions close,
As wine would pair with diner's dish.

Lonely do these thoughts me make
That draw my blood of precious life;
Replace with stream of flowing pain
To bless my veins with coursing strife.

Lonely years are now my friends,
Lonely cries bereft of sound,
Lonely tears that cool my face
In lonely life of sullen pace.


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved

















































































lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely life
lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely life
lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely life
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  14.     

Teacher

The teacher taught;
The pupils never bought the notion.
Now distraught, he
Slammed the door,
Stomped the floor,
Seeing red.

The noise, the
Whole commotion,
Brought the Head.

‘You need your bed - you're full o' drink! '
He boomed.
‘Cripes! ' the teacher cried
- A stink of booze across the room -
‘You mean that I'm denied
My nightly bottle, comfy whisky?
I'll have to throttle naughty you.
Risky, true -
To see you dead! '

By now the kids had left the room -
Smoking - drunk - singing in the bogs.
‘Annoying little dogs! ' Our teacher screamed,
Dropping the Head -
His face completely cyanotic,
The situation now chaotic.

‘Now that'll do, ' the teacher laughed.
‘I might be daft, but I'm alive
To preach again - surviving those vicissitudes of life:
The challenges; laying down the
Lessons to the brats -
I'm the boss, they're the rats! Give ‘em strife!
I'll make ‘em take exams
Throughout the night - what a fright
They'll have. But first I'll round ‘em up to
To shift the Head.'

They dumped him in the garden shed
Behind the mower
And other paraphernalia
Used to keep the grounds in order.
The kids were good - no disorder
While they did the master's evil deed.


The teacher smiled; he'd been freed
From persecution, diminution
Of his rank: a lowly grade of scholar.
‘Thank you, pupils, what an honour,
Now the Head has gone,
But now I have to see to your
Extinction too. After all, you
Never listen - never do!
And so it's time for you to earn
A just reward - a trip to Hell! '

However, the kids were luckily saved -
Yes, you guessed - the clanging bell that
Ended period two. Depraved and
Sweating like a pig, the teacher
Froze - took a swig anew of gin -
The Deputy Head was coming over:
Teacher had to wipe him out
As well!

The pupils took advantage: scampered,
Screaming.

Finely poised, the Deputy
Crooned: ‘What's the meaning, Teacher-?
And where's the Head, suspicious creature?
Answers came from Teacher's cane -
The heavy-duty rod was in attack -
Poor old Deputy staggered back -
A massive blow had bruised him badly.

Sadly, as he fell, he bashed his skull
Upon the ground - and that is where
The janitor found his body -
What a sight - pitifully shoddy!

But then the pupils cottoned on:
Should they call upon the staff
To see the teacher one-to-one,
The kids would end up having fun,
Since all the school would have to close,
As all the staff would come to blows with
Psycho-Sam -
The name the kids had given to this
Strange demented man.

So that is what they did -
The faculty, sequentially,
Exterminated;
The kids were rid of staff and
Free to roam, though
The teacher lost all interest and
Drove himself back home.

Knocking back a litre bottle of gin, he
Sung a song about the sin
Committed - emitting a din -
And what grin - hideous!
He even wondered where he'd been
Upon that brutal day.

Back at school, in disarray,
The kids were happily psyched again,
Smoking funny cigs, or eyeing adult flicks -
It's how they got their kicks!
At least they weren't a bane
To any staff -
What a laugh!




Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
































































teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher
teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher
teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher
teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher
teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher
teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher
teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher
teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher
teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher
teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  15.     

'Alone! ' I cried

'Alone! ' I cried again.
'Alone I am with me!
Lonely in a world of mist
Alone, I reach to touch your wrist
And see if I am thee.’

To be alone beside a soul
Afloat, adrift; an empty ghoul
Alone in woe; the yearning flesh
To fill a thin, contorted mesh
Diffuse atop an icy floor, alone.

So much alone in fact, I lack
The tonal vibrancy of life:

I am a song without a tune
alone;
A greying sky in June
alone;

The blueness of a sullen moon
– waning in a starless night–
alone;

Coasting down a weedy pass
alone;
The only image in the glass
alone;

To meet a certain heavy fate
– to turn and shut the knurly gate–

…alone.



Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009

















alone alone alone alone
alone alone alone alone
alone alone alone alone
alone alone alone alone

alone alone alone alone
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  16.     

Death and I

When death comes
I’ll need not love –
Consumed,
No wreath or dove
Could offer me salvation,
Not when I’m no more.

A weathered stone will bear my name –
Identity of once a being
Living out existence in
A world of risk, and never seeing
Sense of why we’re here.

My genes will die away thro’ child –
Hue of eyes and hair, the way of thought,
Will quickly dim with generation –
Bow to future dominance –
Memories of provenance
Resigned to curious few.

When death comes
I’ll need not grace
Below; no grieving face
Will call my resurrection,
Not when I’m at ground –

Death and I so bound.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011





























































































































































Death Crawl

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 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