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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter  9/2/2014 11:34:47 PM
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  Best Poems From
  MARK R SLAUGHTER (1957)
 
 
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  13.     

It’s My Birthday

Shit!

Another year – a terse reminder.

Shit!

Another tear; I need a blinder –
Blur the brain of time
And unrelenting age.

O! to be a hero: honed, a sage of life;
Not an ever-ancient me,
Ticking over on a mug of pills,
Holidaying at the ward
(Drowning in a sea of stagnant piss) .

So rest assured, unless I’m cured of
Groaning limbs, a crumbling back and
Fading mind,
Whims of being young again are crass,
And show me blind.

So sod off! and leave me here alone
To face another birthday.

Shit!

Shit!


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010






























































































birthday birthday birthday, birthday birthday birthday,
It's me bloody birthday
birthday birthday birthday, birthday birthday birthday,
It's me bloody birthday
birthday birthday birthday, birthday birthday birthday,
It's me bloody birthday
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  14.     

Salad is Incompatible with Life

Yes, my waist is fifty inches -
Big for me because I'm short.
And yes, I like my cheddar cheese
When partnered with a vintage port.

Okay, okay, that double cream
Is always served with pud,
And cake and biscuits with my tea
Are just no bloody good

For my poor hardened arteries,
But see my point of view,
Please dear wifey if you please,
A Salad makes me spew!

I'd rather eat a bowl of air
Than crunch away on greens;
Drink water from the toilet bowl
Or nibble on my jeans!

But salad! Are you there?
You know it makes me snappy -
So let me fill my face with grub,
Stay fat, and die young happy!





Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009




































































































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

   
   
 

  15.     

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
   
 

   
   
 

  16.     

Her Hidden Treasure

Her flame was only for the women –
Not for us unlucky men;
A weakness lay for feminine way:
To feel an even fairer skin
In silky slide.

Her lips were for the satin love that
Only flows from rising breast;
The creamy tan was not for man
To pull towards a chiselled chest
In weathered hide.

Her hidden treasure down below
Would shy away from macho length
And only rouse upon the blouse
Undone by other sapphic strength –
In time, inside!


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010























































































woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter