The War of Life

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.

The Real Intro aired today!

The real introduction to my podcast Bourbon, Cigarettes and Syllables aired today! Link included below. Let me know what you think. Criticism and suggestions will be greatly appreciated!

Every Wednesday here after Ill be posting a video where I’ll be discussing the topics talked about today in the introductory video. Primarily boxing, poetry and meaning in a nihilistic world along with many other topics. Watch subscribe and comment please!

My Seraph in Disguise

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

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.

A World of No Heros

Tyler R. Martin

“The end draweth nigh!” Shouts a man on the corner

Waving a flag and dressed in rags.

What a sight to behold,

I thought with a grin,

It was something out of a movie, 

A madman screaming of sin.

And yet, perhaps he is right

And his message is true

But in a world bereft of heros

I suppose there’s nothing we can do.

Hangovers

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!