Love Haiku

Tyler R. Martin

Her eyes, brilliant

Beauty surpassed only by

Her soul, perfect, pure

Liquor Store

bourbon, cigarettes and syllables

Tyler R. Martin

Ringing in the liquor store and jealous
Of the booze these people buy.
87.56 for single malt scotch,
64.99 for the gentleman’s
Sweet sour mash,
A 48.26 small batch bourbon, all before
Old Uncle Sam’s greedy share.
And the vodkas, my man,
The oceans of Goose and Svedka
Coursing through the veins of America
Make my envy rise and mouth thirst
For the pure and safe sanctity of spirits
And the docile feeling connecting you
With the holiest of spirits and you feel God
And you…
Keep ringing soberly in the liquor store
While other people drop hundred dollar bills
On tequilas supported by that cunt Cloony
Who couldn’t understand the depth a true drunk
Must contend with daily.
Then the then true drunks step in and
You find seriousness in their slurs
As you decipher their need for a pint
And know instinctively that they will

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Got Engaged to Katie

Tyler R. Martin

So, here on 

Our second year of loving,

Something struck me deeply 

Out of nowhere it was found.

Because you, babe,

Have always loved me sweetly,

There’s something special in your smile,

By your blue eyes I was bound.

And it’s true, babe,

And I pondered for a while

That life ebbs so dark and dreary

Yet, this, I never found profound.

And me, babe, 

In the mire of my chaos,

Lost upon an ocean,

Never finding ground.

But you, babe,

I could never stand your sadness 

Its you I want to love,

Life’s so pure when you’re around.

For you, babe,

With your tender loving sweetness,

You drive away the madness,

Which I suffered from above.

And you babe,

To me you’ve always been so special 

By your love I’ve found a meaning,

By your beauty I’m enthralled.

Because you, babe,

If you would ever have me,

If you’d love me forever,

If by this request you’re not appalled,

Then would you, babe,

If you could ever stand me

Please accept this soft proposal 

Agree and give your hand?

Episode 10: Heavenly Blessings and Terminal Temptations

Tyler R. Martin

The tenth episode to my podcast aired today and, like all the other episodes, I was very happy with how it came out. If you missed the previous episodes, due to the fact I was too lazy to post them, you can find them by clicking the YouTube link on my home page. In this video I discussed a wide range of topics, from utopia, to the battle of ideas, religion, finding the perfect cherry blossom and collectivism vs. individualism. Hopefully my thoughts will be received in a manner in line with my actual intentions. Per usual, I elaborate on my ideas concerning individuality, spirituality, the outlaw’s war with life, the need to be combative with authority, Nietzschean philosophy, my own personal war with existence, mother nature and the existential necessity for lack of safety in pursuing enlightenment. All of this stems from a poem I wrote titled “Heavenly Blessings and Terminal Temptations” from my second book “Midnight Mourning”…you can find a link to purchase it here:

Poem and link to video included below: Midnight Mourning – Kindle edition by Martin, Tyler R., Wolffer, Katie. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.

Heavenly Blessings and Terminal Temptations

My mortal heart was blessed
By the heavenly calls above,
By the hand of the almighty
And seraph’s songs of love.

But the blessings too were bitter,
I was frail and forced to grow
As I was beckoned by temptation
From seductive flame below.

In truth, to grow is Godly
And man’s desire, not divine,
How harrowing it is to follow
Hollowed needs that are not mine.

For the flame has its fetching beauty
And the seduction more than I can stand,
So often I descend into the darkness
For I am just a mortal man.

4 Poems by Tyler R. Martin

Punk Noir Magazine

1-

Love and Anarchy

We will be together when it all falls down,

When everything is trashed,

And all lies ashen in the past.

We will be together when the Cities have all drowned

Or some rational is found

To burn them to the ground.

We will be together when the government is gone

And all the politicians have been relieved

Of all presumptive efforts

Towards the spread of their disease.

We will be together when the nanny state is gone

And the final card is drawn

For a new order to awake

And embrace it’s gorgeous dawn.

We will be together

When the Congress hall has burned

And every well coiffed leader

Has been fired and been spurned.

So don’t yet fret, perhaps the time isn’t now,

But we will be together when it all falls down.

2-

What is Below in the Hungry Black Maw?

There’s a house…

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Episode 9: Lonely Dog

Tyler R. Martin

The ninth episode to my podcast aired today and, like all the other episodes, I was very happy with how it came out. If you missed the previous episodes, due to the fact I was too lazy to post them, you can find them by clicking the YouTube link on my home page. In this video I discussed a wide range of topics, from censorship to the battle of ideas, religion and collectivism vs. individualism. Hopefully my thoughts will be received in a manner in line with my actual intentions. Per usual, I elaborate on my ideas concerning individuality, spirituality, the outlaw’s war with life, the need to be combative with authority, Nietzschean philosophy, my own personal war with existence, mother nature and the existential necessity for lack of safety in pursuing enlightenment. All of this stems from a poem I wrote titled “Lonely Dog” from my second book “Midnight Mourning”…you can find a link to purchase it here:

Poem and link to video included below: Midnight Mourning – Kindle edition by Martin, Tyler R., Wolffer, Katie. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.

Lonely Dog

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.

Much Too Busy Today

Tyler R. Martin

The world is bustling and busy today
The streets buzz with movement like
Small bees blindly peppering the hive
Of a barren black asphalt honeycomb
Upon which all the bees do call home

Yesterday the world was bustling and busy
Planes did glide like great ivory kites in air
Trapped unable to break the bonds of nature
Attached by gravitational strings to the ground
Forever destined to exhaust and to return down

Tomorrow the world will likely be bustling and busy
The highways will tremble with innumerable commuters
Who will crawl single file to their respective ant hills
Bearing with them the many fruits of their daily labor
And adorning their ant hills to compete with their neighbor

There are so many poems unfinished today
So so many words I have not yet spoke
So many paragraphs in prose not yet wrote
So much half written wording fumbled in dismay
Well I guess the world was bustling and busy today

Episode 6: God’s Spire

Tyler R. Martin

The sixth episode to my podcast aired today and, like all the other episodes, I was very happy with how it came out. I discussed a wide range of topics, and took a rational, yet likely controversial stance on gender dysphoric individuals based on an email my Boxing Gym received last week. Hopefully my thoughts will be received in a manner in line with my actual intentions. Per usual, I elaborate on my ideas concerning individuality, spirituality, the outlaw’s war with life, the need to be combative with authority, Nietzschean philosophy, my own personal war with existence, mother nature and the existential necessity for lack of safety in pursuing enlightenment. All of this stems from a poem I wrote titled “God’s Spire” from my first book, Rotten Man’s Throne…you can find a link to purchase it here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08541HSXH/ref=cm_sw_r_tw_dp_9YMTS5FE2QA6D2CB04VX)

Poem and link to video included below:

God’s Spire

If God should sit upon a spire,
High above perceptions grasp,
Then am I worthy of his wisdom?
Can I echo a perfect past?

If God should sit upon a spire,
Then must I purse my lips and pray?
Am I worthy of his fire?
Must my sins be scorched today?

Spending years in agony,
Wondering if I’m to shine,
Or will I rot with his derision?
Am I worthy of his time?

Cause I am crawling, I am crawling,
Encumbered weary deaf and blind.
I am crawling, I am crawling,
Crawling through the chasm of my mind.

Cause I am crawling, I am crawling,
Engulfed by a doubt not defined.
Cause I am crawling, I am crawling.
Crawling through the chasm of my mind.

If I should sit upon a spire,
High above all that’s divine,
Must I justify His judgement,
Or is his blood no longer wine?

And if I’m to sit upon a spire,
Must I forego my sacred right,
To be embraced by his forgiveness?
And to wander through the empty night?

Spending years in agony,
Wondering if I’m to shine,
Or will I rot with his derision?
Am I worthy of his time?

And as I sit upon the spire,
High above pure entranced masses,
It leaves me scarred and broken, bitter,
But divine despite the lashes.

Will it be worth the holy battle,
Against myself and all mankind?
To overcome all that represses,
As I’m crawling through the chasm of my mind?

My Mortal Dread in Prose

Tyler R. Martin

There was once a time I felt I was the center of
All the turbulence descending down from God above,
For it had been his wicked world which left me marred
And if any love in this scarred world had once existed
Then from this feeling I would most certainly be barred.
For when the sun beat down so lovingly from heaven
It would be only I who lie charred black when it set
And if you told me I was paranoid and hopeless,
I would say, “don’t forget: riddled with regret”.

But now I realize that I am not alone in this,
No living soul has ever wished off Judas’s Kiss
And, yet, still we are all stark alone in how we suffer
The lives of men maintain no pattern, rhyme or reason
So, therefore, each breath is nothing but a fleeting buffer.
For each year marks a dawn of a deeper darker winter
And each winter leaves a mortal man far more froze,
If you tell me that the storm is simply pointless to defy
Then I’ll just decry this mortal dread in prose.