“Bomb Shelled Suburbia”

Tyler R. Martin

Old tired towns along the east coast,
Rusted trains roar by in the night,
The oceanside’s littered in rubble and dust
And only the stars provide light.
Back streets bomb shelled like Beirut
And shattered city’s a hell of a sight.

Shredded sunk war ships have distance,
But their submerged hulls reflect sun,
Bombshells still exploding on long island sound
Scream the battle has not yet been won

Soot’s repainted suburban scenes
Under clouds cloaked in toxic haze
Bullets rattling off, each an echo of the last,
And seem not to cease for days.

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“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

“Ebony Sky”

Tyler R. Martin

Well the sky’s gone ebony now,
The winds pick up when it’s dark,
They’re all from the north now,
With each gust as the limbs bow
And the trees are all stripped of their bark.

The hurricane comes from Atlanta,
Now the rains are here to stay.
Season of terror here in Georgia,
Now those storms will have their day.

All the stray cats seeking shelter,
Fishermen have hunkered down.
All winds are from the north now,
Every hunter wears a frown.
The rivers have become whirlpools,
We’re at the Apex, by the sound,
The sky’s gone ebony now
All the fish are set to drown.

“Work Week Blues”

Tyler R. Martin

Thirty seconds down,
It’s not even nine thirty.
My brain it won’t come ’round
From this purgatory.
Now sixty seconds down
Wishing the weekend would come early,
But it never does
Fridays always hurt me.
Three hours till lunch,
Still not near nine thirty.
I just want to explode
And sleep in the infirmary,
Till next Friday comes around
And awake after four thirty
In time to clock out
For the work week shows no
Mercy.

“O Solitaire”

Tyler R. Martin

Playing solitaire on my phone,
Red queen resting comfortably
Under black King, black Jack’s below her.
Aces stowed away atop the board
Beside the clock with seconds ticking away.
I’m lost at two minutes thirty six seconds,
There’s no hint button so I restart.
After three minutes ten seconds I win,
My screen throws a little parade with bright lights
And red confetti and the a big:
YOU WIN!!! in the center of it all.
Then another victory after four minutes flat.
The next game, I concede defeat after only
A minute thirty nine.
The next is another crushing victory at
An impressive two minutes ten.
And there it’s is…. added up it comes to
Approximately fifteen minutes of my life
Diving head first down the drain.

“The Last Road”

Tyler R. Martin

This long road’s empty, eyes are heavy
But my hands they don’t shake anymore.
There’s a fleeting bliss with the background playing
The songs that all drivers adore;
With the tires in tune with the pavement
And both hum in sweet Harmony,
My Volks sings bass in background
Knowing my folks back home wait for me.
I blister this long road at 90,
My knuckles are white on the wheel
And I pray to the God in whom I don’t believe
That cops will know just how I feel
As the tires, engine, pavement and speakers
Create a chorus in the charm of a midnight trek,
Recounting a drive, I’ve made a dozen before,
But babe this time I’m not going back.

“Every Fucking Day”

Tyler R. Martin

Ever wanna die so bad it hurts?
Ever wanna die so bad your tears
Become nothing but hot ash,
Charring your eyes with puffs of smoke
As your irises become clouded
In steam and stressed veins?
Ever burn inside so hotly you wanna run,
With screeching tires on unforgiving asphalt
Until they wear so thin they explode
And send you tumbling in crushed streel
And shattered glass?
You wanna die that way, sure, but know you won’t
And you bitterly dread the inevitable walk after,
Knowing you need to keep moving
Until your shoes are shredded and your
Feet blister and bleed?
Ever wanna die so bad this seems preferable
To living another day?
If yes, welcome to my world you dreary fuck…
… Pour yourself a drink, we’ll toast together…

“Those Bad Feelings”

Tyler R. Martin

There had been
Bad times in the theater,
And worse times at home,
Bad times on car rides,
But good times alone.
Bad times with his harpy,
And her talons razor sharp
Bad times, while outside,
As the band plays from the heart.

…. Engulfed by bad feelings there,
In the crowded room with the departed.
Those dark feelings of despair
Of grieving friends now brokenhearted.

For those of them did share
The happy memories
In those times fair
And joined in battle with his enemies,
In turbulent times of trial,
So now recount mourners who declare
Of his forever unmatched style.

These stories of his greatness told
Of the man now void of smile,
Once so loving and so bold,
Absent now of signature guile.
For his affectionate warmths grown cold
And now seems so hostile.

….And when depictions done, all goes quiet
For but a brief while,
While his friends and children drink
Usurped by their denial.