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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter  10/31/2014 11:36:28 PM
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Our Vestiges Of Chance

That question –
It drifts among us
Like death –
God! it lurks

So are we –
That certain something
That pervades the ‘You and Me’ –

Has the last gear (or two)
Slipped out of synch
With what constitutes your silky mechanism? –
Now merely residue
Of love along the skin.

Do you recall
The vestiges of chance –
Once taken
(Now in history forsaken) ?
Your gaze, acutely angled,
Averts just whom or what? –
Me? Your answer?

Ah! Now I sense your certain pragmatism –
Fundamentals –
Personified perhaps
By what I saw beyond:

An entity of mist
Peering back
To analyse our wake.

That’s all you've EVER done!

Can’t you blow it all away!
And rise, you fool;
Just f*** ‘em all! –
We’re needy of a break.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2014
Mark R Slaughter




Would you reconsider flesh

of mine

to grace that warm exquisite folding
(cursed upon the monthly moon
that lines the inner you with blood)
in synchrony atop the shaking
making love

Are we not a house of mansions?

I’d swallow your presence
assimilate anew
another woman
just for me
to see you through
should inner shards of reconsideration
dare to claim denial

I’ll be your path to trial:
in isolation
for cold obliteration

You would not dare

for after all
I know you care
about your arrogance –
the weight of breast


prideful glands
that seek out the male promontories
up to raise their temperature

You are the ruins
in naked fall

you must

Pull in your legs
and be prepared;

I shan’t deny

You have to die

And how I’ll cry

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2013
Mark R Slaughter



Selfish Genes

Fingers down, eyes to deal
– Annealed afresh the wounds of wanton sexuality –

I surged again,
Smoothing out a field of mammary bulk
To nestle in between
A dream – the cream of life –
At least for men
To come again within a grasp of firm
And luscious femininity

To grope, to hold
A hand of hope
In warmth

And yet

A clash between paternity
And pornographic drive
To satisfy again

O! the pulse of pain
Of why I am a man,
A ham of life
To slavery! –

I know you know my claim –
To offer up the same
Of me through these beloved genes
Oh yes, these bloody genes!

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
Mark R Slaughter



Sinner's Visit from Death

Whence the reek, the sombre clouds?
Those of billows gargantuan;
Of storms immense, blushing black,
Wishing sought of me to assess?

And have I passed? I have?
Hence I hear a knock on oak;
Unwelcomed, dullened cloak
Flowing dourly - it was a bitter breeze.

‘Have you mulled my sins? ' I ask.
‘Have you seen my impotence -
Though observe destruction at mine hands?
Forgive me, I am but Man.'

‘And are not sinners forgiven? ' I excuse,
‘Hence forgiveness avoids me of Hell?
Must my Demons of Sin revisit eternally
And reflect back on me to suffer well

The synergy of vengeance and wrath?
Are you not now pitying of my terror?
See my withering, regretful flesh -
Feel you not my tardy repentance? '

But Death just focused his stare,
That which pierced my pulseless heart,
For I was empty of remorse in all my years.
He knew that - and led me away.

Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009

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