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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter  7/29/2014 7:55:39 PM
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Kissing To The Air

Spring verve:
Yellow spray,
Whites at play
With red
In splash n dash -

The bounce
Of on-and-off upon
A monotone of green.

Cooling into focus,
Daffodils court,
Sniffing at the daisy;

We're all bought! -
Cissy-colour crazy!

Fountain fresh,
We're kissing to the air -

We never seem to care
When colour sings.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2012
Mark R Slaughter



Lonely You; Lonely I

You say you are lonely.
Are you? Come see MY solitary world.

I am lonely:
Not the ‘generally feeling lonely’ feeling –
You know, the ‘I need a cuddle 'cos I’m feeling a bit lonely today’ feeling;
Or the ‘I’m on my own today so I think I need to call up a friend’ feeling.
No, I mean the terror and depression of cold isolation;
That Black Hole of raw solitude;
The nadir you arrive at after a steady spiral downwards, inwards.
And suffocation by the blanket of social invisibility
Which insidiously greyed out your psyche without your knowing.
You know, when you alight on the platform of endless alcoholic days;
When you’re sprawled vacant and naked in the corner of your filthy room,
Oblivious to the scurrying life outside –
That which doesn’t acknowledge your existence anyway:

That’s lonely.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Mark R Slaughter




In mind

In kind - the distance blind to no one;
Background plays of random trysts
Pro tempore illusory mists
Until caprice bestows upon the two
Another fling from eyes.

A change: THIS dalliance, he's aware -
No surge to kiss nor loss of care
To all as fingers roam her skin -
His reconciled affection begs for kin -
It's in the flit of byes.

Blind assumption caves to swells
Of wrath inside her heart - quells
Naivety - which then recoils, compels:
She craves another married man!

Who cares? -
Who fears delusion in a plan?

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2012
Mark R Slaughter




The jar of pickled dahlias
Glared her horrors,
Bore down from the hung shelf

As Mahler’s Ninth agonised,
Reminding me he died at fifty-one –

And I am fifty-bloody-five –
Skin death rising,
Chances of surviving dipping low

The jar caught a snatch of sun
That interrupted dimness
In its arrogance of light

Reflections blinded,
Shielding me from all the dahlias –
Death-petals –
To grey –
Suspended in their pickle juice

I could only smell ‘em in the brain;
Were I to be insane
I’d see the joke

You see ‘tis just a poke at life
And me

Perhaps I am a
Dahlia in the jar
Mark R Slaughter
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BEST POEMS:  (Click on a topic to list and read the poems)
• angel poems
beautiful poems
death poems
friend poems
• girl poems
home poems
hope poems
kiss poems
• life poems
loss poems
love poems
music poems
• nature poems
rain poems
school poems
sex poems
• soldier poems
summer poems
sun poems
war poems
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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter