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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter  3/6/2015 6:05:28 PM
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  Best Poems From
  MARK R SLAUGHTER (1957)
 
 
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  29.     

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
   
 

   
   
 

  30.     

Lonely Life

Lonely on the land I walk,
Lonely cross the sea I sail,
Lonely air of beach I stroll -
This lonely life doth take its toll.

Lonely trek of woodland trail,
Lonely mist in haze o' dawn,
Lonely spies the bird of prey
In lonely circles all astray.

Lonely be the dark of night
When sleep is but a yearning wish,
To dream of sweet companions close,
As wine would pair with diner's dish.

Lonely do these thoughts I make
That draw my blood of precious life;
Replace with stream of flowing pain
To bless my veins with coursing strife.

Lonely years are now my friends,
Lonely cries bereft of sound,
Lonely tears that cool my face
In lonely life of sullen pace.


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved

















































































lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely life
lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely life
lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely life
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  31.     

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
   
 

   
   
 

  32.     

Country Walking

I walked a league and o'er the moor;
I walked and walked as ne’er before,
And on to walk from dale to hill
And on again to claim the thrill.

Behold! that walking does for me:
The senses heightened, mind of glee,
While rolling vistas pass me by
To swell the heart, enthrall the eye.




Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009



























































































nature nature nature nature
nature nature lovely creature

nature nature nature nature
nature nature lovely feature

nature nature nature
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter