Tag: scarypoem

Liquor Store

~ Bourbon, cigarettes and syllables ~ 1 Comment

Tyler R. Martin

Ringing in the liquor store and jealous
Of the booze these people buy.
87.56 for single malt scotch,
64.99 for the gentleman’s
Sweet sour mash,
A 48.26 small batch bourbon, all before
Old Uncle Sam’s greedy share.
And the vodkas, my man,
The oceans of Goose and Svedka
Coursing through the veins of America
Make my envy rise and mouth thirst
For the pure and safe sanctity of spirits
And the docile feeling connecting you
With the holiest of spirits and you feel God
And you…
Keep ringing soberly in the liquor store
While other people drop hundred dollar bills
On tequilas supported by that cunt Cloony
Who couldn’t understand the depth a true drunk
Must contend with daily.
Then the then true drunks step in and
You find seriousness in their slurs
As you decipher their need for a pint
And know instinctively that they will
Provide exact change….

New Chucks

~ Bourbon, cigarettes and syllables ~ 3 Comments

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.

Voyeur by the Shore

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Tyler R. Martin

What a brilliant display I witnessed today

As dawn broke in the great sea’s front line.

And what a scene, like from a glorious dream.

Which I had dreamt once upon a time

And so gazing this morning upon murky sea

It seemed conflict had encountered our shore

As shining steel ships faced off in the distance

I prayed for viciousness, bloodshed and gore!

And all at once a gleeful group had gathered;

We, by the shore, with the waves lapping near

To witness the hell rain and the scorn splatter

From the certain safety of this distant pier.

In a moment, cannon blast broke loose in a fiery blaze!

The crowd laughed and shouted in a heated cheer!

While sea rocked and ships swayed in a thrash!

We watched from the safety of this distant pier.

The ship’s explosions echoed in the salty sea air, 

Viciously trading volleys of a thousand hot spheres,    

A cataclysm of chaos, shrapnel, cannon blast and blood

And we watched from the safety of this distant pier.

The ships began to sink, one after one after one;

And yet, we on the pier, felt fevered joy, not fear,

As splintering ships sank in the smoke and flame

And we cheered from the safety of this distant pier.

“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

“won’t come back”

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Tyler R. Martin

I’m so alone and it’s deadly cold
In upper state New York
Surrounded by my friends by side
But they’re as frail as chalk
They melt away in the rain
And frown as the storm comes down
And in dark and thunder times
They fail to come around
Dark and drear in the lonely nights
The skies are cold and black
Dark and drear as its always here
I’ll leave and won’t come back
Leave and won’t come back

“New Chucks”

~ Bourbon, cigarettes and syllables ~ Leave a comment

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.

“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.

“Attack the Day”

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Tyler R. Martin

I am subsisting on Belgian beer and red cabbage as of late.
Certainly not a bad breakfast,
Apparently both are very good for gut health
And gut health is very important.
My father would tell me that you’re fucked if your digestion is outta wack and, with this diet,
My digestion is very good.
I wake up,pop a handful of various pills,
Crack a beer and take an incredible shit;
Hangover gone, a bit high, feeling ten pounds lighter
And ready to face the world.

“Mad Dogs, Bred for Chaos”

~ Bourbon, cigarettes and syllables ~ 5 Comments

Tyler R. Martin

My grandfather died at 78
A chain smoking alcoholic,
Miserable and strong till his last day.
I watched my dad get hit with a wine bottle,
A big heavy glass fucker, swung like
A billy club right across the dome,
He didn’t go down.
My uncle’s an alcoholic,
Fifty years going strong,
Once took twelve hits of acid,
All at once at a Stones concert.
He still stood.
I got tased twice and punched once
In a scrap with ten cops,
I didn’t go down….
Mad dogs don’t go down easy,
I come from a pedigree of mad dogs.