Saturday, April 5, 2014

A Ride On Pratt's Rocketship

Mary Kate Stanley Pratt is bored,
She decides to take a trip to outer world,
By saying "Mona Lisa",
Her imaginary boat begins to shake under a sudden storm radar,
By mentioning "French Fry",
Her clothes instantly go clean and dry,
By thinking of "Peterson Calosi",
She finds herself in a wagon next to Hawaii's Botkin Hunting Sherwoods,
By forgetting her way home,
She lands on Mars with Samoan's favorite holywood stars,
By praying for "Shen Yun" performing art,
She coincides with God SumYang's turning wheels and becomes a nut,
Billions of light years pass,
Pratt's rocket-ship grows many decaying dots,
Through ups and downs in emotional paradise,
Stanley's body and soul upgrade and harden,
Eventually, she says "Boomer Sooner", absolutely,
Her rocketship resumes and descends
by a reindeer and lands at Manowa's Yorky Valley.

Saturday, March 15, 2014

Lots of Places To Go!

Mount Rushmore,
Carved to honor the U. S. presidents in Four,
Museums with guarded doors,
Made to display antiques and dinosaurs.

The Great Wall,
Built to fight a painful war,
The shopping mall,
Constructed to host business store.

The petting zoo,
Specialized to farm animals for kids cute,
The public school,
Supported by the government to educate kids, a tool.

I like concrete walls,
I love waterfalls,
I enjoy solid floors,
I fancy small animal print-paws,
I fear cold wars,
I avoid clinched jaws.
Domes, Homes,
They inspire me to write more poems.
Buildings, fortress, and memorial constructions,
They produce consumer productions.

Thursday, February 27, 2014



Brain walls: bio-insulation keeps me cosy
in my hidden room.

Eye balls: bio-windows let me peer and sneer
upon our filthy race, with

Ear holes – bio-microphones – assuming tones
I only wish to face.

Inside, I flit between assimilation,
fantasy, and desperation – each another room
for me to occupy –

as in a nest or burrow, a honeycombed hive –
fathoming which to best survive in;
harbour me from that outside.
Shit! It’s just as bad in here –
I need another den to hide in!

So where’s a niche to keep me from the world,
but also from my rabid head?
Yes, of course –! it’s being dead.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010