The Bum’s Lament is now available for purchase

Tyler R. Martin

The Bum’s Lament is a series of poems I had written while languishing in a crappy studio apartment, no money in my bank account, no job, engulfed in depression and nihilism and bathed in alcohol and cigarette smoke. This book is an early attempt of mine to explore my own suffering and, in doing so, strives to understand the suffering of all of humanity throughout the finitude of the human lifespan. I was attending school at the time of this writing, a local community college, and was stricken by the lack of depth in analysis which the classroom setting could produce. My life previous, and my current life as well, exposed me to the dark pit that is the natural universe and, unlike my peers, the surface scratching that the modern academic setting yielded to me no recourse to understanding. This book likely will do no better, however, it is a genuine attempt with nothing held back.

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!

“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…

“the run”

Tyler R. Martin

I sigh right now to see
All that banes me
Displayed upon
The TV screen.
What horror,
What malicious,
Tyrant dream,
That only as
Nightmares
Could be truly foreseen?
The drearily
Dark blue
Macabre
Tyranny
With their
Badgers and guns,
Arresting a man,
Robbing a bank,
Ditching his
Day job
And was
Enjoying the run.

“Attack the Day”

Tyler R. Martin

I am subsisting on Belgian beer and red cabbage as of late.
Certainly not a bad breakfast,
Apparently both are very good for gut health
And gut health is very important.
My father would tell me that you’re fucked if your digestion is outta wack and, with this diet,
My digestion is very good.
I wake up,pop a handful of various pills,
Crack a beer and take an incredible shit;
Hangover gone, a bit high, feeling ten pounds lighter
And ready to face the world.

“no stones to throw”

Tyler R. Martin

I have no stones to throw
I seldom like to speak
I don’t have much to say
I offer no critique.
I don’t have an opinion
No, I sure don’t vote
Don’t care for your pitch
I’m leaving for a smoke.
Thanks guys
But the God I have is fine
Please come back later
If mine steps out of line.
What kind of fucking survey
What do you wanna know
Who had sent you here
Wanna do some blow
And who has stolen my drink
To drunken myself I wonder
Slowly building steam as my
Blue sky turns to thunder.
And still,
I have no stones to throw
When my glass house is cracking
And there’s nowhere else to go.

“what the whole world needs”

Tyler R. Martin

Walking out of the campus library
I pass a large white poster board.
Written on top, in bold black lettering,
Is “what would you like to see more of at Farmingdale Community College?!”
I stopped to read the many bullshit replies
Of my shithead classmates:
“Better wifi. Better coffee. More inclusivity. Smaller class size. No cigarettes on campus (they stink!) Farmingdale should GO GREENER. Legalize the weed!”
But at the bottom, one pure heart of gold wrote, simply “Titties….more Titties”
With a large red heart around it.
Whoever wrote this I would elect president.
To whoever wrote that I say change nothing,
You are pure and perfect as is.
Disregard anyone who says otherwise.
I envy your wisdom.

“Mad Dogs, Bred for Chaos”

Tyler R. Martin

My grandfather died at 78
A chain smoking alcoholic,
Miserable and strong till his last day.
I watched my dad get hit with a wine bottle,
A big heavy glass fucker, swung like
A billy club right across the dome,
He didn’t go down.
My uncle’s an alcoholic,
Fifty years going strong,
Once took twelve hits of acid,
All at once at a Stones concert.
He still stood.
I got tased twice and punched once
In a scrap with ten cops,
I didn’t go down….
Mad dogs don’t go down easy,
I come from a pedigree of mad dogs.