Tag: psychedelic poetry psych influence

celestial rapture

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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

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.

Sky Fish

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Tyler R. Martin

Recline back now
Watching the fish swim in the sky
Splash me with water
Then dry up, choke and die.
Falling from the heavens
I watch them as they sail
Shriveled buggers
As the friction burns their scales.
And you know that makes me so sad
I’m lonely, wanted to hang,
They didn’t seem bad.
But when they made it, falling in fast
Straight down to me
They were nothing but ash.

Madness, So Mundane

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Tyler R. Martin

Asking yourself what lies within
Winter fields and all that freezes in the storm, or
Perhaps burns in horrid heat, floods, drowns, or
Withers with age and decays under pain of time, or,
Drinks and smokes and fights over status disputes, or,
Reads to find reason and understand the empty void, or,
Revels in the combat against self and man and nature, or,
Becomes sickened by the gross anomaly of existence, or,
Breaks down in a grand display welled up from years, or,
Gives up and self inflicts a gunshot wound to the head, or,
Chain smokes for days on end without eating anything, or,
Breaks knuckles against the wall in puffs of white plaster, or,
Writes a poem about apathy and contempt for existence, or,
Drives too fast in a rainstorm with road beers and crashes laughing, or,
Admiring winter fields and all that freezes in the storm, or
Learning not only to live with hangovers but to enjoy them, or,
Trying to figure out what it means to really “live”, or,
Trying to figure out what it means to really “die”, or,
To die “nobley” and wondering what that even means, or,
Large swaths of star speckled skies over the desert, and,
Is there still a meaning to things arcane? Or,
Has all madness become mundane?

The Virtuous Mother

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Tyler R. Martin


Please, just don’t sit and stare,
Please be unbridled and into the air
We will go there if only you could
Just be here, soul sound and unbound!
Gracefully proud and profoundly unwound!
We’ll go into the sky a feather of chance,
Corner of your eye and lost in the dance!
Don’t forget to fly freely and untethered
Embraced in wonderous white wings as
gorgeous feathers are withered and weathered!

And here you’ll dive and there you’ll fly
Where life shall swirl about your very eye
listen close to crushing waves crash by the bay
And feel the cool chill of the sea’s salty spray
As below the towns folk retreat from the flood
Unable to to counter the wanton surf’s rise
As the cold solemn sea smothers their cries!
But still, don’t forget to fly freely and untethered
Embraced in wonderous white wings as
gorgeous feathers are withered and weathered!

Tragedies’ no good for freedom, so soar above france!
Where perchance you’ll gaze below to catch a glace
Of fierce flames engulfing the meadows and fields
And gasp to discover the flames at your heels!
Sickened by a suffering from which once you were shielded
As you’re engulfed a reality which you have uncovered
That the free natural world is not a virtuous mother!
But still, don’t forget to fly freely and untethered
Embraced in wonderous white wings as
Gorgeous feathers are withered and weathered!

My Seraph in Disguise

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Tyler R. Martin

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

Lost Along the Shore

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Tyler R. Martin

Highway, high beams on, I’m cruising,
And cursing “please bring on the dawn!”
Oh Father, high above me, don’t keep me waiting for
A break from what I needed,
Just a short break for, really nothing more.
A quick spell from
The nighttime, the moonrise and the nightmares
Of a never ending road along the shore,
And the bother of an empty tank
And the fear of what waits in store.
Oh Father, high above me, don’t keep me waiting for
The sputter and the stammer as my foot hits the floor,
And my ride canters to the side
By the reed and the bottles and needles by the shore,
Where the wild waves crash,
And the wild waves break,
Father knocking at my door.

Highway, high beams on, I’m cruising,
And cursing, “out of my way now!
I need to gain some ground!”
Rubber tires, number four and plus one wheel,
But they’re all useless,
They’re worn down to the steel.
Now the engine won’t turn over,
It’s apathy covered by some noise,
As it tries to ignite what is now
Only some vapor in the void.
Oh Father, high above me, don’t keep me waiting for
Yet another…another fucking chore…
Well, so on and so on,
Now I’m lost along the shore,
While the wild waves crash,
Father knocking at the door.

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!

“My Sweet Amor”

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Tyler R. Martin

I feel love for all that I see,
My heart beats for all before me,
I’m the king of the Lions den now,
Love my pride forever, I vow.
I beg for you in me to trust,
If to survive you know you must
And if I’m to feel some joy once more
I’ll need you here, my sweet amor.

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

“Midnight in Maylla”

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Tyler R. Martin

It was the first night since yesterday
On a midnight in Mayalla
And all the street lamps
Shuddered in the breeze.
It was the first wind
To gust the city streets,
To rattle the bones of buildings
And just slightly bend the beams.
And it was the first chill
To haunt Bose boulevard
And chatter the tarnished teeth
In the mouths of wary wanderers
Who trek the narrow streets.
The first wind of the year
(As does every year)
Marks the beginning of The Season
And not a soul of Mayalla
Was unaware of the approach.
This wind would seem but a triviality
To those unacquainted with Mayalla,
But a badness with it came
And Dread tumbled with the leaves
And shook even the corpses
In their graves.
And with the wind
The Mayalla sky grew
Cool and yellow
As the sun receded
Toward the horizon’s brink,
And there it shimmered
For what seemed a moment
As dark dusk rose
And the light
Began to sink.
For in this bitter time,
The beast did arise
To claim it’s yearly offer,
Baring it’s fangs
In form of winds and rain
As the howl of
The winds
Return His call with
It’s refrain.
So, to quell the beast
And all manner
Of His plagues
And proxies that he summon,
Will be brought forth a man
For the grand honor as he,
Screaming fit
To wake the dead,
Is bound to the great tree
For the wolves to ravish
And drag away his head.
All to please the Beast they serve
And pray he chose, for
One more year,
To leave Maylla in the peace
That it deserve.