Tag: poetry

Got Engaged to Katie

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Tyler R. Martin

So, here on 

Our second year of loving,

Something struck me deeply 

Out of nowhere it was found.

Because you, babe,

Have always loved me sweetly,

There’s something special in your smile,

By your blue eyes I was bound.

And it’s true, babe,

And I pondered for a while

That life ebbs so dark and dreary

Yet, this, I never found profound.

And me, babe, 

In the mire of my chaos,

Lost upon an ocean,

Never finding ground.

But you, babe,

I could never stand your sadness 

Its you I want to love,

Life’s so pure when you’re around.

For you, babe,

With your tender loving sweetness,

You drive away the madness,

Which I suffered from above.

And you babe,

To me you’ve always been so special 

By your love I’ve found a meaning,

By your beauty I’m enthralled.

Because you, babe,

If you would ever have me,

If you’d love me forever,

If by this request you’re not appalled,

Then would you, babe,

If you could ever stand me

Please accept this soft proposal 

Agree and give your hand?

Episode 10: Heavenly Blessings and Terminal Temptations

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Tyler R. Martin

The tenth episode to my podcast aired today and, like all the other episodes, I was very happy with how it came out. If you missed the previous episodes, due to the fact I was too lazy to post them, you can find them by clicking the YouTube link on my home page. In this video I discussed a wide range of topics, from utopia, to the battle of ideas, religion, finding the perfect cherry blossom and collectivism vs. individualism. Hopefully my thoughts will be received in a manner in line with my actual intentions. Per usual, I elaborate on my ideas concerning individuality, spirituality, the outlaw’s war with life, the need to be combative with authority, Nietzschean philosophy, my own personal war with existence, mother nature and the existential necessity for lack of safety in pursuing enlightenment. All of this stems from a poem I wrote titled “Heavenly Blessings and Terminal Temptations” from my second book “Midnight Mourning”…you can find a link to purchase it here:

Poem and link to video included below: Midnight Mourning – Kindle edition by Martin, Tyler R., Wolffer, Katie. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.

Heavenly Blessings and Terminal Temptations

My mortal heart was blessed
By the heavenly calls above,
By the hand of the almighty
And seraph’s songs of love.

But the blessings too were bitter,
I was frail and forced to grow
As I was beckoned by temptation
From seductive flame below.

In truth, to grow is Godly
And man’s desire, not divine,
How harrowing it is to follow
Hollowed needs that are not mine.

For the flame has its fetching beauty
And the seduction more than I can stand,
So often I descend into the darkness
For I am just a mortal man.

Episode 9: Lonely Dog

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Tyler R. Martin

The ninth episode to my podcast aired today and, like all the other episodes, I was very happy with how it came out. If you missed the previous episodes, due to the fact I was too lazy to post them, you can find them by clicking the YouTube link on my home page. In this video I discussed a wide range of topics, from censorship to the battle of ideas, religion and collectivism vs. individualism. Hopefully my thoughts will be received in a manner in line with my actual intentions. Per usual, I elaborate on my ideas concerning individuality, spirituality, the outlaw’s war with life, the need to be combative with authority, Nietzschean philosophy, my own personal war with existence, mother nature and the existential necessity for lack of safety in pursuing enlightenment. All of this stems from a poem I wrote titled “Lonely Dog” from my second book “Midnight Mourning”…you can find a link to purchase it here:

Poem and link to video included below: Midnight Mourning – Kindle edition by Martin, Tyler R., Wolffer, Katie. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.

Lonely Dog

I stand confused in the mayhem,
Lost in the modern haze,
Where the artists stick to standards
And drown in the modern craze,
But I won’t believe their shit is gold
So I’m a lonely dog, shaking in the cold.

I will not judge your poetry
By its social justice score,
I don’t care for your politics
And your social causes bore.
So since I won’t believe your shit is gold,
I’m a lonely dog, shaking in the cold.

I will not watch my language,
I’m sorry if my words offend,
But my art trumps your feelings,
I don’t care and I won’t bend.
So since I won’t admit your shit is gold,
I’m a lonely dog, shaking in the cold.

I might be the pariah of my peers,
But then again, I suppose whose to blame?
They, who avoid the disgrace of outcasts,
Or I, immune to such shame?
I won’t believe their shit is gold
So I’m a lonely dog, shaking in the cold.

Much Too Busy Today

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Tyler R. Martin

The world is bustling and busy today
The streets buzz with movement like
Small bees blindly peppering the hive
Of a barren black asphalt honeycomb
Upon which all the bees do call home

Yesterday the world was bustling and busy
Planes did glide like great ivory kites in air
Trapped unable to break the bonds of nature
Attached by gravitational strings to the ground
Forever destined to exhaust and to return down

Tomorrow the world will likely be bustling and busy
The highways will tremble with innumerable commuters
Who will crawl single file to their respective ant hills
Bearing with them the many fruits of their daily labor
And adorning their ant hills to compete with their neighbor

There are so many poems unfinished today
So so many words I have not yet spoke
So many paragraphs in prose not yet wrote
So much half written wording fumbled in dismay
Well I guess the world was bustling and busy today

Episode 6: God’s Spire

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Tyler R. Martin

The sixth episode to my podcast aired today and, like all the other episodes, I was very happy with how it came out. I discussed a wide range of topics, and took a rational, yet likely controversial stance on gender dysphoric individuals based on an email my Boxing Gym received last week. Hopefully my thoughts will be received in a manner in line with my actual intentions. Per usual, I elaborate on my ideas concerning individuality, spirituality, the outlaw’s war with life, the need to be combative with authority, Nietzschean philosophy, my own personal war with existence, mother nature and the existential necessity for lack of safety in pursuing enlightenment. All of this stems from a poem I wrote titled “God’s Spire” 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)

Poem and link to video included below:

God’s Spire

If God should sit upon a spire,
High above perceptions grasp,
Then am I worthy of his wisdom?
Can I echo a perfect past?

If God should sit upon a spire,
Then must I purse my lips and pray?
Am I worthy of his fire?
Must my sins be scorched today?

Spending years in agony,
Wondering if I’m to shine,
Or will I rot with his derision?
Am I worthy of his time?

Cause I am crawling, I am crawling,
Encumbered weary deaf and blind.
I am crawling, I am crawling,
Crawling through the chasm of my mind.

Cause I am crawling, I am crawling,
Engulfed by a doubt not defined.
Cause I am crawling, I am crawling.
Crawling through the chasm of my mind.

If I should sit upon a spire,
High above all that’s divine,
Must I justify His judgement,
Or is his blood no longer wine?

And if I’m to sit upon a spire,
Must I forego my sacred right,
To be embraced by his forgiveness?
And to wander through the empty night?

Spending years in agony,
Wondering if I’m to shine,
Or will I rot with his derision?
Am I worthy of his time?

And as I sit upon the spire,
High above pure entranced masses,
It leaves me scarred and broken, bitter,
But divine despite the lashes.

Will it be worth the holy battle,
Against myself and all mankind?
To overcome all that represses,
As I’m crawling through the chasm of my mind?

My Mortal Dread in Prose

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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 5: Rotten Man’s Throne

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Tyler R. Martin

The fifth episode to my podcast aired today and, like all the other episodes, I was very happy with how it came out. I discussed a wide range of topics, such as individuality, spirituality, the outlaw’s war with life, the need to be combative with authority, Nietzschean philosophy, my own personal war with existence, mother nature and the existential necessity for lack of safety in pursuing enlightenment. All of this stems from a poem I wrote titled “Rotten Man’s Throne” 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)

Poem and link to video included below:

Rotten Man’s Throne

Been living too long in this wild, wicked world,
With matters of mayhem and black flags unfurled.
Two decades of doldrums and dark, dog days too,
Concealing confessions, I think I owe you a few.
Been waiting too long, desperate to postpone,
As I’m earning my spot on the rotten man’s Throne.

The words that I ramble and put down on paper,
With each shot of bourbon all reason will taper;
And what I write, every rhyme scheme off kilter,
Smoking every cigarette down to the filter.
Nothing to do, a true poet’s always alone,
As I’m earning my spot on the rotten man’s throne.

You see me, I’ve got a style all my own,
In this wicked world I’ve got a style to hone;
Tough to dress for success in a world on the brink,
And the people you meet will just drive you to drink.
Because this wicked world tends to bare all your bones
As I’m earning my spot on the rotten man’s throne.

Burning out my eyes staring into the sun,
After decades of doldrums too tired to run.
I will recline, relax, and refuse to respond,
I’ll ignore the wicked world until dawn has dawned
But now, night never ends, suppose I should have known,
As I’ve been earning my spot on the rotten man’s throne.

Been living too long in this wild, wicked world,
With matters of mayhem and black flags unfurled.
Two decades of doldrums and dark dog days too,
Concealing confessions, I think I owe you a few.
Been waiting too long, desperate to postpone
As I’m earning my spot on the rotten man’s throne.

Episode 4: Modern Day Rebel

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Tyler R. Martin

The fourth episode to my podcast aired today and, like all the other episodes, I was very happy with how it came out. I discussed a wide range of topics, such as the family structure, spirituality, the outlaw’s war with life, Nietzschean philosophy, my own personal war with existence, alcohol and the existential necessity for lack of safety in pursuing enlightenment. All of this stems from a poem I wrote titled “Modern Day Rebel” 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)

Poem and link to video included below:

Modern Day Rebel

Today men get their kicks with movies based on books,
As modern marauders walk the streets, getting only dirty looks.
Hiding in their homes, so safe behind a solid door
It’s no world for an American outlaw anymore.

All mad men should stow away, bored to their very bones
While Forty fives are replaced with pink portable phones
To call police, when frightened to their cowardly core
It’s no world for an American outlaw anymore.

When the gaggle gather, hopping happy, so stoked for the stoning
To deliver to the DUIs and those mean mouthed and revolting
The lessons needed to ensure not a single feeling’s sore
It’s no world for an American outlaw anymore

Episode 2: My Seraph in Disguise

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Tyler R. Martin

The second episode to my podcast aired today and, like the first episode, I was very happy with how it came out. I discussed a wide range of topics, such as the military, guns, spirituality, my dog, love and the existential need to fight for beauty. All of this stems from a poem I wrote titled “My Seraph in Disguise” 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)

Video and Poem are included below:

My Seraph in Disguise

A beauty thought reserved only for nature, 

Somehow now resides within your eyes,

How can such magic be earthly normal,

 Is it real, or just some clever guise?

I wonder, are you a true mortal woman 

Or a Seraph, an angel in disguise?

–Your hair of a goddess, with golden streaks

Falling gently on tan, smooth skin;

I envy it, caressing your neck,

Cascading down your back, touching your chin.

You’re speaking softly, with love in your eyes,

Giving me a glimpse of your gorgeous mind,

Such a serene, tantalizing feeling,

Something of heaven and earth combined.

And with a pitch like some divine instrument,

Yours: a voice that serenades so sweetly,

From a grin like a summer sunrise,

A few notes and I’m enthralled completely.

Because truly, I wouldn’t be surprised

Were you to admit to me tenderly:

You’re not just my love, my prize,

But my Seraph, my angel in plain disguise.

The War of Life

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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.