Tag: punkrock

“Love and Anarchy”

~ Bourbon, cigarettes and syllables ~ Leave a comment

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

“The Ballad of the Punk Rock Star”

~ Bourbon, cigarettes and syllables ~ 3 Comments

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.

“The Ballad of the Punk Rock Star”

~ Bourbon, cigarettes and syllables ~ 2 Comments

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.