Tyler R. Martin
I stand confused in the mayhem,
Lost in the modern haze,
Where the artists stick to standards
And drown in the modern craze,
But I won’t believe their shit is gold
So I’m a lonely dog, shaking in the cold.
I will not judge your poetry
By its social justice score,
I don’t care for your politics
And your social causes bore.
So since I won’t believe your shit is gold,
I’m a lonely dog, shaking in the cold.
I will not watch my language,
I’m sorry if my words offend,
But my art trumps your feelings
I don’t care and I won’t bend.
So since I won’t admit your shit is gold,
I’m a lonely dog, shaking in the cold.
I might be the pariah of my peers,
But then again, I suppose whose to blame?
They, who avoid the disgrace of outcasts,
Or I, immune to such shame?
I won’t believe their shit is gold
So I’m a lonely dog, shaking in the cold