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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter  2/28/2015 11:22:20 AM
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  Best Poems From
  MARK R SLAUGHTER (1957)
 
 
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  25.     

Death, My Friend

Death, my friend - so good to see you!
Stand aloft and view my soul!
I have to say you’re looking frightful -
Bony chum, you affable ghoul.

Death, my friend, so charmed I’m sure!
State your case and tell me straight -
Am I worthy of reward, so
Venture I to Heaven’s Gate?

Death, my friend, a new acquaintance!
You're always welcome in my home -
Though the stare from empty sockets
Indicates to Hell we roam!

Death, my friend - my bosom buddy.
My! your finger points at me!
Be you tired of my frivolity?
Aha, I see - Oblivion, we!


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
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  26.     

Release

When you think about our lives -
Screaming kids and nagging wives:
'Can't smoke here - no! not there -
Your bloody fags, they drive me spare!
A second bottle? drunken slob,
Off your arse and get a job!

You never take me for a spin -
A little cruise from all the din! '
'You're the bleedin' noise' I scream
Inside my head. I only dream
Of shouting out for fear of what you'd do -
If I could only ball 'F*ck you! '

No, the only way that I can manage
Bearing up against your visage, is
Watching films with hero Arnie -
While drowning in a greasy sarnie.

'Oh to be! ' I wish in sighs:

Arms like his would suit me well -
I'd bust the walls; escape this hell
In which I only just exist;
Getting through by staying pissed.

Agh! the bloody screams again!
And so I crack.
Hang on Arnie,
I'll be back…

Now where's the friggin' telly?
Go on Arnie, give it welly!
Thunder on; it's a-okay -
See how quiet she is today?


Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009




































































Life life life life life life bloody life
Life life life life life life bloody life
Life life life life life life bloody life
Life life life life life life bloody life
Life life life life life life bloody life
Life life life life life life bloody life
Life life life life life life bloody life
Life life life life life life bloody life
Life life life life life life bloody life
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  27.     

Thirteen Lines

A brain peered through stoic eyes;
Yet all it saw was rendered into
Flawed interpretation -
No honoured contemplation of a
Gluon, muon, quark of any flavour;
Nor a vision or conception of its world
Within a universe anthropic in its physical laws,
Inside a boundless multiverse.
All it gleaned and modelled
Bore parochialism well beyond belief! -
Delusional perhaps.
Survival only matters here on planet Earth -
Evolution saw to that.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010


















































































































nature nature nature nature
nature nature nature nature
nature nature nature nature
nature nature nature nature
nature nature nature nature
nature nature nature nature
nature nature nature nature
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  28.     

Alcoholic

Red bled the sun upon a dying day.
I was red across the dial – in denial –
Purple bags bemoaning alcoholics’ eyes –
Blind, they still portray a depth of ruin
You’ll never understand.

I boozed away until another trial,
Always doing wrong inside a wrong
Inside a wrong – forgetting all the rights –
Fretting, drinking, pinking up, stinking:
Ah! the meths; I drank another round.

Red eased into the night; black scoffed.
I was black across the eyes – no surprise!
Ethanolic fumes resumed their nightly play.

I couldn’t pray,

So crimson haemoglobin gave display
Of flush as vessels opened wide.
Red gushed – oesophageal varices
Teased, eased the endothelium;
Brought it all to split.

Erythrocytic fire flared across
A park of haggard flesh.
I choked in red; died like a fish
Ripped, stripped by a shark
Artistically in dance through
Gritty clouds of death-blood.

Red spread the cold and solid ground.
I was cold – a deathly mound
Surrounded by an audience of shuffling feet.
Replete, my corpse had played its role.

No more the alcoholic porn;
No more the savaged soul.


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010



























































































life life life life life life life life life life life in strife
life life life life life life life life life life life

life life life life life life life life life life life in strife
life life life life life life life life life life life

life life life life life life life life life life life in strife
life life life life life life life life life life life to take the knife
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter