Tag: existentialism

celestial rapture

~ Bourbon, cigarettes and syllables ~ Leave a comment

Tyler R. Martin

I saw in the heavens, the starscape was smothered 

Embraced in the pressure, like a hug from a mother

As hot masses collided and splintered and fractured 

Exploding and breaking in celestial rapture

And between the starscapes a barren abyss

Is scraped by the comets, a brief cosmic kiss

Where the comets collide in violent reaction 

And combust in a shower of dust from impaction 

So on down to earth the heavens were showered 

By the he maw of the ocean the star dusts devoured

With great burning and twisting the hot quasar roars

The flame and the fury like a Phoenix it soars!

The sky is alight by the great Clash of heaven

I watch from the ground as the clock strikes eleven

As hot masses collided and splintered and fractured 

Exploding and breaking in celestial rapture

My Mortal Dread in Prose

~ Bourbon, cigarettes and syllables ~ 7 Comments

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.

Episode 3: The Savage Storm

~ Bourbon, cigarettes and syllables ~ 5 Comments

Tyler R. Martin

The third episode to my podcast aired today and, like the introductory episode, I was very happy with how it came out. I discussed a wide range of topics, such as the family structure, spirituality, the war of life, love, my own personal family and the existential need to fight for beauty. All of this stems from a poem I wrote titled “The Savage Storm” 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)

Link to the video included below, please subscribe to my channel and tell me what you think:

The War of Life

~ Bourbon, cigarettes and syllables ~ 4 Comments

Tyler R. Martin

From the warmth of his home, he critiques the world,
In his mind he’s a martyr, his black flag’s unfurled,
He votes with his passion, his news sources he reads
Not knowing these monsters seek to shatter his knees!
In bed with the monsters, the serpent of envy and greed,
That demonic leviathan to him it still lies and it pleads,
By indulging his fears and his pity his empathy is seized
And engage with his sympathy to spread its disease!
For each day’s a battle, in some book each day is wrote
And for those who defy this, their armies go up in smoke.

It is him who I shall watch and it’s at him I shall stare
For whose existence is resisted will decay in despair,
To resist life is pointless and this nihilism is terrible to grasp
So that fallacy becomes the cocoon of a fabricated mask!
He who is sickened by everything that knows chaos and strife
Forgets that what batters down walls will hone down his knife!
So accept the violence and chaos, man, don’t shy from life
And know that life is a war, man, please engage in the fight,
Whether in battle with gloves on or at your table to write!
For each day’s a battle, in some book each day is wrote
And for those who defy this, their armies go up in smoke.

Existentialism and Alcohol

~ Bourbon, cigarettes and syllables ~ Leave a comment

Tyler R. Martin

And that’s the beautiful thing about alcohol, it makes me  want to destroy everything. There’s music, beautiful music, and more alcohol than I know what to do with. There seems to be a scene….perhaps I should write a book about this…in what would seem to be a movie…there’s Grateful Dead on, I want to break a skull, just shatter all that stands before me. Shatter everything, shatter existence. And that’s the beautiful thing about alcohol, that’s the beautiful thing about writing drunk. I wanna break skulls, I wanna break everything, I wanna destroy the world….the existential suffering of mankind could end in one cosmic explosion, yet I am just a man, a finite being, an amalgam of Sky Father and Earth Mother; who am I to defy their will? Who am I to react to the heresy of your defiance? Who can I be but a conglomeration of four billion years of evolution, four billion years of cold defiance of the Earth Mother who seeks to destroy life? Gia is an evil destroyer. Mia is the cruel mother. God’s son, the Sky Father, is He who seeks to defy. But to defy who? Defy me? Who is He to do so? Who am to defy Him? I, like you, am a descendant of He who defied Gia and her quakes and tsunamis and her sicknesses. It was I who burns oil in defiance, burns coal for warmth and eats Gia’s beasts in order to survive and continue my heresy. It is I who not only defies the Earth Mother but also the Sky Father by engaging in combat with my fellow resisters of the Earth Mother…it is I who seek His destruction…with my fist I seek to break His ribs and skull…it is He who I hate and seek to break…and the Earth Mother, Her I can not destroy no matter how fevered I seek Her destruction for she is too powerful…do I do Her work by destroying the followers of Sky Father?…When I’m drunk I wish I could drop One thousand atomic bombs on Gia to destroy her and all of Sky Father’s followers. I fear however, that Sky Father will be damaged by this and Earth Mother will recover…She is resilient to the insignificance of beings such as I, She scoffs and our realization of Her brutality and our attempts at formulating Her misery…She should suffer, I feel, she should die, she should languish along with Sky father for the suffering they put their creations though….they all should burn and wither at the root…or perhaps, I should drink less….