Existential Haikus

Tyler R. Martin

I am spurred on by
Entropy, violence, and hate
For the world at large.

And yet I fail to
Confront the bitter blackness
Consuming my soul,

Tearing at my limbs,
Distracting me from my goals
Undermining life.

Lost Along the Shore

Tyler R. Martin

Highway, high beams on, I’m cruising,
And cursing “please bring on the dawn!”
Oh Father, high above me, don’t keep me waiting for
A break from what I needed,
Just a short break for, really nothing more.
A quick spell from
The nighttime, the moonrise and the nightmares
Of a never ending road along the shore,
And the bother of an empty tank
And the fear of what waits in store.
Oh Father, high above me, don’t keep me waiting for
The sputter and the stammer as my foot hits the floor,
And my ride canters to the side
By the reed and the bottles and needles by the shore,
Where the wild waves crash,
And the wild waves break,
Father knocking at my door.

Highway, high beams on, I’m cruising,
And cursing, “out of my way now!
I need to gain some ground!”
Rubber tires, number four and plus one wheel,
But they’re all useless,
They’re worn down to the steel.
Now the engine won’t turn over,
It’s apathy covered by some noise,
As it tries to ignite what is now
Only some vapor in the void.
Oh Father, high above me, don’t keep me waiting for
Yet another…another fucking chore…
Well, so on and so on,
Now I’m lost along the shore,
While the wild waves crash,
Father knocking at the door.

A World of No Heros

Tyler R. Martin

“The end draweth nigh!” Shouts a man on the corner

Waving a flag and dressed in rags.

What a sight to behold,

I thought with a grin,

It was something out of a movie, 

A madman screaming of sin.

And yet, perhaps he is right

And his message is true

But in a world bereft of heros

I suppose there’s nothing we can do.

Hangovers

Tyler R. Martin

(looking for some feedback)

Hangovers, in a realistic sense,
Are God’s revenge and your penance.
For any fun you may have had
Is then reversed, correspondingly bad.
When the following day in pain you awake
God has equaled out your little break!

For, as his creations, we do imbibe,
That, which from his fruits, we have derived,
Which He Himself in His wisdom made,
It would then seem to imbibe he bade,
This magic substance to warp our minds
And to consume till all are blind!

So is it not wrong for Him to tempt?
Should we not therefore be exempt?
Can a liquid of sin still feel devine?
Could not it be argued to drink’s a shrine?
Or should we abstain, fear and lament,
Our God above and His contempt!

So if He is to sit upon a throne of law,
Then to me, this must be, really something more.
For if this isn’t cruelty, who then is the judge?
Was it not He, as He be, to give us all the nudge?
If not, then to you I must concede,
That He’ll be there to judge and glare in times of dire need!

“to be pointless”

Tyler R. Martin

Woke up today thinking I’d probably die.
Poured coffee drank it down, coughed, then
Cracked a beer, lit a smoke, contemplated life;
Found it pointless, but, on the heels of that,
Contemplated that death is also pretty pointless,
So I cracked another beer scratched my gut
And said I’d try again tomorrow.

Never Much Better

Tyler R. Martin

Went to bed a babbling incoherent mess
And didn’t wake up much better.
I had been up the better portion of the night,
Carton of Indian reservation reds,
Bottle of Jack from the local liquor joint,
Reveling in some strange semblance of
An almost spiritual degree of thought.
Racing through my booze soaked brain were
Thoughts concerning this and that,
Contemplating the whiskey on my breath,
The smoke clouding my lungs,
Reviewing the various variables in relation to the value of my words.
Who would marvel at the malice inherent in me as I do?
Who would gaze upon the words issued from me upon the page
As if they exist with some degree of eloquence and tact?
Who would ever view me as more than a boozehound hack with nothing of substance to say?
I had awoke to an empty bottle and an angry hungover angel beside me,
Ashes assembled in neat concentric circles on my coffee table,
Window open, A/C on, blinds billowing in the breeze.
And I awoke sweating with my thoughts still damned,
Damned to the same degree as before, just now clearer, more coherent
And now coexisting with a pounding headache,
Still baffled just as much by potential of interest some might show my savage mindset,
Damned still to consider the frailty and meaninglessness of me.
I had went to bed a babbling incoherent mess
And didn’t wake up much better.

“Morning Ensues”

Tyler R. Martin

His dad’s ashes                 up on the mantle

Empty wine bottles            litter the rug

And there’s a mirror           above the dresser

For the poet to oggle         his own ulgy mug

A shiny Zippo                    he likes to flip up

Watching flames dance     up on the wall

And with just one flip         lights a cigarette

As his bottle makes him    ten feet tall

Old mellow music              hums in the background

Each puff of smoke            smothers the room

With each sip                     the wine’s less bitter

The sky is brighting and     morning ensues