Mark R Slaughter (1957)

I’m riddled – straddled with a poem.
My heart, it drags, ragged thro’ the pumping;
The pounding, O! the thumping –
See? – the price you have to pay?
Scribbling – you’d think it was a tome
You have to write; but you’re a poet,
And out of spite, you need to have your say –
Channelled with the pain of course,
The mental strain; the bourse – the stock exchanging
‘Mongst the screaming voices.
And you, of metaphor; your choices render slim.
‘Tis only through catharsis and the pen
Can you expect – through flailing mind – to find Amen!

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011










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