“Mother’s Day Haiku”

Tyler R. Martin

Today is the day
All mother’s are given thanks
For their tyranny.

“My Sweet Amor”

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

“Morning Ensues”

Tyler R. Martin

His dad’s ashes                 up on the mantle

Empty wine bottles            litter the rug

And there’s a mirror           above the dresser

For the poet to oggle         his own ulgy mug

A shiny Zippo                    he likes to flip up

Watching flames dance     up on the wall

And with just one flip         lights a cigarette

As his bottle makes him    ten feet tall

Old mellow music              hums in the background

Each puff of smoke            smothers the room

With each sip                     the wine’s less bitter

The sky is brighting and     morning ensues

“Attack the Day”

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.

“False Punks and Weekend Drunks”

Tyler R. Martin

Go out don’t get arrested,
Go out and get real drunk.
Rocking to The Clash in your black leather,
Calling yourself a punk.
Then wake up in the morning,
Shave your face and comb your hair,
Shower early the next morning,
Tightening a tie with some “flair”.
It’s the one your mother bought you,
The one with a red black hue,
Then bathe in some cologne,
On Mondays this is what you do.
Then once more it’s a Friday,
You’re leaving work at five,
To once more imbibe imported beer
At the club called “IT’S ALIVE!”
You repeat this on Saturday
And on Sunday night too,
Back to the office on that Monday
‘Cause this is what you do.

“Useless Persistence”

Tyler R. Martin

If I can break through a wan demenior
And befriend the guard dogs guarding your brain,
I’ll chisel through your cracked exterior
And southe a fragile heart at it’s frays.
But there’s a fracture left from convalescence
Too many times your minds been unwound
Way too often long dead demons come to haunt you
Slip past your soul’s sentrys without sound.

Below your damage there’s a sweet little girl
Whose craving marriage and a man of the world,
Whose craving art work that don’t make her apathetic
And avoiding heart break from sad boys she calls pathetic.
She’s sad and lonely but in her mind she’s numb,
In her body she’s a tenant, and her arms and legs are dumb,
Drew under by the tidal wave her needs and her resentment
And her soft despair now is but fading remnant.
Passed out on the floor contemplating her existence
Seeking joy but she still can’t find the door,
Cause she knows that it’s useless her persistence,
Makes the decision not to try anymore,
The bitter end is now no longer in the fleeting distance,
Feels the joy well up in her core.