Tag: poetry

To Think of Sarah

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Tyler R. Martin

Each time that song plays I think of Sarah,
And her red hair waving lovely in that way.
Every time the chorus rings I feel so alone,
Saying, “Sarah God I miss you,
Sarah, baby, please come on home,
Sarah, without you I’ll be alone.”

And each time the song ends, I feel so empty,
Until that solemn tune begins again;
I mourn the loss of my lover
And the loss, also, of a friend
For much like that sad song, I’ve played for so long,
Someone one help me, please, I’m at my end.
Saying, “Sarah God I’ll miss you,
Sarah, please come home,
It’s better here I promise
Than wherever you may roam
Sarah, without you I’ll be alone.”

There’s bound to be a reason for her leaving,
There’s bound to be an answer in her words,
The words she knew so true
And she felt she had to say
When she gasped out her last breath
As I held her hand to pray
Before her body became cold,
Saying, “Sarah, without you I’ll be alone.”

“If ever was there life,” she said,
“there also must be death,
I feel the weight upon me now,”
As she she struggled her last breath
And in her final agony, she smiled so sincere,
Saying, “my loves with you forever, babe,”
In her last moment here,
“But, never fail to wander, and
Don’t be in agony over me,
Don’t sit upon a throne so lonesome,
That I couldn’t bear to see.”
And in that final moment I gave my reply,
Saying, “Sarah, God I miss you so badly Right now, baby, I could cry,
Sarah, baby why’d you have to die?”

“Bomb Shelled Suburbia”

~ Bourbon, cigarettes and syllables ~ 2 Comments

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.

Hope you enjoyed the poem! If you did, my chapbook is available on Amazon for 1.99 and if you message me I’ll definitely send you a free one! I’d love to get some reviews on my work. I’m new to selfpublishing and trying to promote myself anyway I can! There is a link below

Check this out: Midnight Mourning by Tyler R. Martin https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0878SXJBM/ref=cm_sw_r_sms_awdb_t1_iU.MEbDX2GJ4V

Hangovers

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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”

~ Bourbon, cigarettes and syllables ~ 3 Comments

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

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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.

I Wrote A Riddle

~ Bourbon, cigarettes and syllables ~ 6 Comments

Tyler R. Martin

I exist a once when darkness convalesce,
And do what I will at no man’s behest.
From granting wishes at my very best,
To causing mayhem, trouble and distress,
Both by way of existential dread and of a tiny biting pest
I can shake even carefee birds from their little nests.
What am I?

“Love and Anarchy”

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Tyler R. Martin


We will be together when it all falls down,
When everything is trashed,
And all lies ashen in the past.
We will be together when the cities all have drown
Or some rational is found
To burn them to the ground.
We will be together when the government is gone
And all the politicians have been relieved
Of all presumptive efforts
Towards the spread of their disease.
We will be together when the nanny state is gone
And the final card is drawn
For a new order to awake
And embrace it’s gorgeous dawn.
We will be together
When the Congress hall has burned
And every well quaffed leader
Has been fired and been spurned.
So don’t yet fret, perhaps the time isn’t now,
But we will be together when it all falls down.

Hope you enjoyed the poem! If you did, my chapbook is available on Amazon for 1.99 and if you message me I’ll definitely send you a free one! I’d love to get some reviews on my work. I’m new to selfpublishing and trying to promote myself anyway I can! There is a link below

Check this out: Midnight Mourning by Tyler R. Martin https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0878SXJBM/ref=cm_sw_r_sms_awdb_t1_iU.MEbDX2GJ4V