“New Chucks”

Tyler R. Martin

I bought new Chucks a week ago
And now they’re dirty.
The white had sparkled and glimmered,
The black was stark, rich and deep,
The laces, pristine as fresh fell snow.
But now they’re dirty.
Now the white is grass stained green
And the laces dulled with dust
And stark black has surrendered
It’s rich deep dark to the elements.
A week ago I bought new Chucks,
And the world
Has made them dirty.

“The World to Me”

Tyler R. Martin

You’re my baby, you mean the world to me,
But I’m standing on your outside
Gazing out into the sea,
Waiting for your ship to arrive,
Like a love lorn widow
Whose love at sea had died.

My ocean is my doorway,
As each day I pray
That your solemn Beauty
Gracefully will pass my way,
But each day doesn’t change
Like a widow’s tears before the bay;
While the sirens in the deep do sing
And Neptune holds his heinous sway.

And you, so stunning and saccharine,
Pass by my glances unaware
Of the love for you I still feel,
From long lovely legs, to golden hair,
To blue eyes that pierce solid steel
And beautiful breasts at which I stare.
Your hold on me echos through the ocean,
Through the trees and through the air;
Your hold on me, my love,
I simply can not bare.

“The Ballad of the Punk Rock Star”

Tyler R. Martin

In a dank dive bar
Sat an old punk rocker,
Said he was a star back when,
At old CBs he played off key
And pissed on the crowd
As they shouted in glee.

This is the ballad of the punk rock star,
Now just a dour old drunk in an old dive bar.
But with stories to tell of his days of glory,
All different versions of the same old story.

In a dank dive bar
He sits and slowly sips his whiskey
And sings along to the jukebox,
Belting out “anarchy in the U.K!”
As he coughs out his lungs
Saying, “the tunes of my day!”

And after a few it’s always the same:
“The songs of today are a total shame!
And a disgrace the singers way back when
I played old CBs with all my friends!”

In a dank dive bar
Sits the old punk rocker,
He sips at his whiskey and orders a beer,
Slamming them down till he’s too drunk to stand
And mumbles the lyrics
To songs he sang in his band.

In the dank dive bar
No one cared too much for
The punk rock star and his time in the sun,
Never paying much attention to any of his tales
Of blood and the piss
While the feedback it wailed.

Now the old punk rocker went home one night,
Loaded up a needle held it up to the light,
Said, “missed you old friend, been too many years.
Just one little prick and it’s away with my fears.”
And with one rubber band, his bicep he bound,
Waiting and waiting till a fresh vein he found
Then the punk rock star shot it on home
Took his final breath in his room all alone.

This is the ballad of the punk rock star,
Was just a dour old drunk in an old dive bar.
But his stories to tell of his days of glory,
Were just different versions of the same old story.

“I Don’t Wanna Be Here”

Tyler R. Martin

I was born in the wrong generation.
A lot of people say this, I know,
And perhaps they’re not wrong,
But I can only speak for myself
And I’m quite sure some bureaucrat
Up there in the heavenly abyss
Fucked up my departure time.
I really should have been born in
The Grunge era, or a few years prior
During the Punk Rock boom
Or way way back freezing my balls off
On a Viking cruiser waiting to swing a
Battle ax and rape and pillage.
Any of these would have done nicely.
I exist in a savage age which
Chews up all who do not prescribe
To the malicious zeitgeist of our times.
This is no era for one perpetually bored,
Always and about everything,
And gives no fucks about trends,
His political social standing
Or his own personal appearance.