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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter  7/9/2014 7:14:20 PM
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  Best Poems From
  MARK R SLAUGHTER (1957)
 
 
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  17.     

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
   
 

   
   
 

  18.     

Journey to Be

I think I'll journey out some day to wondrous lands afar,
Or even chart a journey to a distant blazing star.
But rest assured that when my journey begs to take its cue,
Always know that when I go, this journey takes you too.

We'll start our journey out from here by horse and cart of old,
The seaside docks - and journey pauses - where we shall behold
A noble schooner for the journey primed to launch as planned:
To sail with dolphins cross the seas then journey back on land.

And so our journey goes by foot to conquer mountains tall:
A chapter hence the journey reached, with scenes that should enthral.
But when we tire, let's rest our journey, stretched in fields of flowers,
And bathe atop the mountain from the journey - autumn showers!

Refreshed, our journey takes a turn - we'll venture back for home,
But first we'll let the journey take a tangent just to roam.
And in the winding route, this journey's bound to bide content,
But most of all take heed - let's make our journey life's event.



Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  19.     

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
   
 

   
   
 

  20.     

Apparition of a Butterfly

Upon a fuzzy vista – vision blurred –
I tried to focus; nothing ever solid
Came to view, but undeterred, I blinked
An eye to try again. Through the mist
A coloured hue; polychromatic flames
Had flickered at a whim; a rhythm bore
A thrumming too: a naturalistic hymn.
Behold! Were I to find a synonym to
Reproduce or recreate
The apparition of a butterfly,
Evolving through the waning vapour,
Drawing on a sigh from this romantic.
Glory be! The raging sun above
Had fired his furnace, flaming off
The hangers on. Now I saw the flare:
His time has come. He spread a tortoiseshell –
A scene of Mother Nature at her best.
I lay in peace in knowing I was blessed.





Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009











Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly
Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly fly
Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly fly
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter