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5.5k · Jun 2017
to love a poet
Tyler Matthew Jun 2017
to love a poet
is to admit the world
is tragic
3.6k · Dec 2020
She Likes It
Tyler Matthew Dec 2020
I always smack her *** when she is cooking -
her eyes tell me she likes it.
She says to everyone that she's a feminist.
Well, so am I, honey.
Tyler Matthew Aug 2018
we don't sleep much around here.
the nights are too precious to squander.
we wander streets and alleys,
fields and fairways, looking at the moon,
begging the sun to never come up again.
drunk in our ways, in our loves and hates,
feeling with broken fingers
for broken hearts to mend.
when we find one, we keep it hidden.
we shut off the lights to make love,
moon dangling above our pillows,
smoke billowing out the window
to show we are done.
and we don't sleep much around here.
we make secrets of ourselves.
2.3k · Jan 2021
Pork
Tyler Matthew Jan 2021
Eat it up while you can, pig!
Your future's looking grim.
Head down in a pig trough,
spilling at the brim.
Farmer stands with his shotgun.
That look is in his eye.
You're squealin' now like a loose wheel,
wishin' you could fly.
Running 'round in the pigsty.
**** stains on your pig chin.
Fear keepin' your eyes wide.
Crawlin' out of your pig skin.
Eat it all while you can, pig!
And don't forget to chew!
The dinner bell's a-ringin'
and we've got plans for you!
Inspired by "Pigs (Three Different Ones)" by Pink Floyd, from the album "Animals."
2.2k · Aug 2017
What You Wore
Tyler Matthew Aug 2017
I don't need no
chains and whips,
sparks fly from
my fingertips.
Magic, the way
you move your hips.
Magic, when you
part your lips.

I'm no sage,
but I can enlighten.
You crawl to me,
you are not frightened.
Sweat and blood,
muscles tighten.
Draw the shades,
don't let the light in.

You kneel before me,
I can't ignore.
You rake my skin,
I ask for more.
I part your legs
and kiss your core.
Falling from you,
what you wore.
1.8k · Sep 2017
Royalty
Tyler Matthew Sep 2017
I had a customer at work today
with a tattoo across her chest
that said "Royalty" with a little
jeweled crown hanging off the "R."
She wanted a pack of cigarettes.
She didn't ask, she demanded.
She didn't say "please."
I gave her the cigarettes.
She didn't say "thanks."
I asked how her day was going,
and she said "good."
She didn't ask how my day was.
At first I thought a girl like that
isn't royal at all.
But, the more I thought, the more
I realized that she was.
Because royalty doesn't ask,
it demands.
Royalty is above saying "thanks."
Royalty doesn't mingle with
gas station clerks.
Regardless, I muttered "*****"
under my breath as she walked away.
1.7k · Jan 2021
Dallas, November 1963
Tyler Matthew Jan 2021
Dallas, November 1963
Fifty-seven years since they shot Kennedy
Everyone saw then live on T.V.
what happens when you challenge
secret society

Some say the mob or the CIA
Either black or white, but the truth is gray
and long since buried 'neath Texas clay
right next to good ol' LBJ

I ask not what my country can do for me
Blood on her hands, Lady Liberty
Let sleeping dogs lie, leave history be
The truth died in Dallas, 1963
1.5k · Sep 2018
Curtains Pulled
Tyler Matthew Sep 2018
I can hear her singing,
that's how I know she's home.
'Hotel California' to her
man who's on the phone.
But when he hangs it up
she'll be all alone,
sitting pretty, feeling lonely,
drawing little pictures of him.

And she doesn't know it,
but I get lonely, too.
Each time I do I hide myself
inside and drink her perfume.
Then after it's all gone
I paint my ceiling blue,
light another cigarette and
sit there with the curtains pulled.

You knew it, I knew it,
I blew it all in front of you.

Don't do it. I'll do it.
Just ***** it up like I do.

It's true, it is true that
it's you, O how I wish I knew.

Light another cigarette and
sit behind these curtains, blue.
Written to the rhythm of "Sixteen Saltines" by Jack White.
1.4k · Jun 2017
Driving into Baltimore Alone
Tyler Matthew Jun 2017
I think of you, friend,
as I make my way to Baltimore,
awake and aware of the
stillness in the backseat.
Used to be at least three
of us, sleepless and ******,
never alone except when we slept.
I think of you when the
sunlight finally hits my windshield
and refracts into rainbows
all over the dashboard.
I've always hated mornings,
but this one is calm and beautiful
and I can't wait to reach the shore.
I think of you once more
while I'm sitting on the docks
tossing rocks into the Patapsco,
watching the gulls go sleepily overhead. I dread the drive back home. But I'll be thinking of you
when I hit the highway laughing at
something you said when you were
alive.
1.4k · Dec 2018
Purdah
Tyler Matthew Dec 2018
I used to think that all I wanted
was someone to love me,
someone to give me all their
warmth and trust and sympathy.
The more I sit here in this
empty room beside a window,
the more I realize that that
kind of life ain't meant for me.

I'm making friends with all the
shadows climbing on my rooftop,
and I hear music in the leaves
that rustle in the wind.
And I dont need no pity, girl,
I kinda like the struggle.
Like feeling 'round for the doorknob
when the lights are dimmed.

Each day someone will call and
offer me a new solution,
and while I do respect the
depths of their true concern,
they have to realize solitude
and silence both are virtues -
but that's a lesson that I
hope they never need to learn.
purdah (noun) - a state of seclusion or secrecy, often self-imposed.

Written in the style of "Solute Your Solution" by The Raconteurs.
1.3k · Jun 2017
I Don't Need Your Namaste
Tyler Matthew Jun 2017
I don't need
     your     namaste flower-
power    poetry         words
     that       barely break   the
skin               give me something
strong like gin     something with
a little                sin.

        I don't want your
fluffy words               I want something       seldom heard
    something I          can always use
something that'll        leave a bruise
           so bomb the page I'll
light                the                 fuse.
1.3k · Jan 2021
Secret Fantasy (Fizzle)
Tyler Matthew Jan 2021
She was a pretty little girl with a jaded brain
and movie stars in her eyes
From a little town in northern Maine
where dreams fizzle out and die

She was looking for a Casablanca gent
to match her Ingrid Bergman looks
But all she found was me - her discontent!
Her face was like an open book

I paused to read and
she proceeded
to tell me that we had no chance
Before her mouth could shut
I jumped onto her tongue
and asked her if she'd like to dance

We waltzed into a secret fantasy
like our dreams were intertwined
She was blowing pink bubbles with her chewing gum
and it just about blew my mind

It wasn't long and we were lying on the floor
My shirt had come undone
For a workaday girl from a quiet town
she sure knew how to have her fun

Before I buttoned up
she handed me a cup
I drank and I asked for more
My head was swimming
like a salmon when
I watched her walking out my door
1.2k · Sep 2017
Untitled
Tyler Matthew Sep 2017
She stuffs all the bad things
into a closet
and then hides the key
after she locks it.
Her face turns all red
when I ask what's inside.
She screams out her lungs
and yells "everything's fine!"
So I rattle the door as to
blow out the hinges.
And when I glimpse inside,
she thrashes and cringes,
"we don't need to talk
about our past no more.
Will you just go sit down,
will you please close the door?"
Quick write
1.1k · Jul 2017
Bad Music
Tyler Matthew Jul 2017
I know what it's like,
standing with your back
against the storefront window,
to reach into your pocket for a dollar,
but pulling out only six pennies
and a ticket stub.
Or to return to work on a Sunday
and dread seeing the faces of
the lonely, toothless men in
oversized shirts that haunt your dreams.
I know what it's like
to drive home midweek,
midnight, head full of worries,
and to find your bed void  of warmth,
bad music the whole way there on
the radio.
If you care to listen
I can tell you what it's like
to have your fast food meal cut short
with father on the telephone,
"Grandfather's passed away today,"
or to realize that that poem you've
been writing is full of recycled verse,
words already written - and you knew it all along.
Tyler Matthew Jun 2017
She told me,
"You're just like the moon."
I said,
"Because I'm romantic?"
She said,
"No."
"Because I'm mysterious?"
"No."
I asked,
"Is it because I'm a lunatic?"
"Haha, no."
"Then," I said,
"it is because I am always
changing."
"No."
"Then, tell me, how am I
like the moon?"
She said,
"Because you're an *******."
That's when I knew
she was my stars.
1.1k · Dec 2018
White America
Tyler Matthew Dec 2018
Gunshot, blood pool,
black body, yellow tape,
white chalk, white cop.
"White America."

Tattoos, white hood,
tight rope, black hearse,
red flag, white stars.
"White America."

Blue sky, black sun,
bluebird, blue song,
black stripe, white light.
"White America."

Blue lips, white teeth.
"White America."
Red brick, green grass
"White America."
White coat, black button.
"White America."
I am CRITICIZING racist culture, not glorifying it.
1.0k · Jun 2017
The Bitch had Fleas
Tyler Matthew Jun 2017
She had this thing about her,
made me weak in my knees.
She had this other thing, too:
the ***** had fleas.

We used to go out for walks
and climb apple trees.
But my friends, they all warned me
'bout the ***** with the fleas.

She was polite over dinner,
always "thank you" and "please,"
but I just couldn't excuse that
the ***** had fleas.

So last night at her place
I went looking for my keys.
When I found 'em, I bailed on
the ***** with the fleas.
This poem is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to a person or people in real life is entirely coincidental (and I feel sorry for you).
1.0k · Jul 2018
Long Time Coming Blues
Tyler Matthew Jul 2018
Say, pretty baby,
won’t you climb aboard this train with me?
Now, now, now, pretty honey.
Don’t think twice just come along.
It’s been a long time coming,
and we’re sure to be a long time gone.

When I got up this morning,
heard the whistle when the train got in.
Yeah, when I woke up this morning,
heard the train as it rolled in.
And I knew it was gonna be a good day.
I’ll pick you up quarter to ten.

Well, your daddy, he done left you.
Left you in that pourin’ rain.
And your momma, she’s no good, child.
Causes you all kinds of pain.
But me, I always been there for ya.
Come along and your heart won’t ache again.

You’re just workin’ day and night.
No friends to call your own.
Workin’ as a waitress day and night
with no friends to call your own.
Don’t you know I’ll be your friend, girl?
I’ll be whatever and you won’t have to feel alone.

Well, I see your got your dress on.
And, yes, I’ll take that as a sign.
Yeah girl I see you got your hair up.
I will take that as a sign
that we’re headed to Chicago.
I’m glad you made up your pretty mind.

Say, pretty baby,
I sure am happy you’re here with me.
O, yes little darlin’,
you made my day shine oh so bright.
Not much longer though, my baby.
We’ll get there ‘fore the end of the night.
954 · Nov 2018
Faith in Me
Tyler Matthew Nov 2018
Bring me your problems,
put 'em in a basket.
I can answer your question
before you even ask it.
I can't walk on water,
I ain't from Galilee,
but baby, just have
a little faith in me.
949 · Jul 2017
If a poem could save you
Tyler Matthew Jul 2017
If a poem could save you,
could mend all your breaks,
let it be this one,
for both of our sakes.

If a poem could teach you,
could offer you faith,
I pray that this poem
has what it takes.
913 · Dec 2020
Orbit
Tyler Matthew Dec 2020
She glides through city blocks at noon
hair coming undone as she goes
I'm drunk from drinking her perfume
I wonder if she even knows

One thousand lovers gather in
beside her, pulling at her sleeve
but vanish when the tears begin
Not me, though, I will never leave
882 · Jun 2017
Geometry of Wonder
Tyler Matthew Jun 2017
Time out of mind.
Spiritual vacation.
Look inward, not behind.
This is meditation.

Gravitation toward surreal.
Geometry of wonder.
Do not speak, but feel.
Ego put asunder.

Voice rendered silent.
Revert back to youth.
Universe is vibrant.
Nature whispers truth.
842 · Oct 2018
Stronger Walls
Tyler Matthew Oct 2018
In ancient times, you once were mine,
and we were queen and king.
The jesters all sang songs for us,
and gifts did royals bring.
I held your hand,
walked through the land
while people smiled at us.
We never spoke an angry word,
content with all there was.

But soon enough, Jealousy
let himself into our gate.
And riding close behind was Lust
and Lonliness and Hate.
They rode into our castle then,
and took your hand from mine.
And rushing you away with them,
they spilled all of our wine.

I gathered up my forces,
20,000 banners blew.
Rallying behind our love,
we went in search of you.
We must've marched 1,000 miles
before I heard your voice -
much unlike the one I knew,
little more than just a noise.

I spied you in a tower high,
chained in your misery.
The subtleties of love, to you,
were just a mystery.
Then I resolved to break the walls
that kept you there from me.
So many died, and tears were cried,
but there was victory.

And now I have here, built for you,
a tower of my own.
I'll keep you there within my sight
as I sit on my throne.
And the walls that are surrounding us
are strong and high and true -
a symbol of our victory
and my love for you.
Written to the melody of "Blunderbuss" by Jack White
839 · Nov 2018
All You Hold Dear
Tyler Matthew Nov 2018
I just don't know how people do it.
Wake up and work for a living
just to pay hospital, insurance,
utility, student bills
like there's nothing to it,
and then go to bed
with no scary thoughts beating
like cold rain through their heads.
Every day is a struggle between
either myself and the world or
myself and time or
myself and myself,
and it takes every drop of will
that I have to not reach for
the bottle, the pipe, on the shelf.
I just don't know how people,
some people, most people, it seems,
can live any better than that.
Like the one percent sitting
on top of the world looking
down, hysterically laughing
at those who have to work,
who breaks their
backs and necks and minds
trying to make something last
longer than a few ******* days.
Sure, there's beauty in the world,
but you gotta pay to look at it.
And even then, you aren't allowed
to just grab it and take it,
put a sign on it and make it yours.
Someone's already claimed
all you hold dear.
You're just stuck borrowing.
811 · Aug 2017
All-Night-Girl
Tyler Matthew Aug 2017
I got me an all-night-girl,
keeps the door unlocked for me,
and even when my girl forgets,
she'll throw me down the key
sayin',
"come on up, down waste your time,
you're wanted in this room."
"Well that's fine with me,
but I've got time
to take my shoes off I assume?"
Yes, she's the one, the only one,
whose face floats in my dreams.
And she ain't like nobody else
'cause she's always as she seems.

Yes, she can take the paint right off
my Chevrolet Bel Air
with just a sweet little kiss
or one electric stare,
and
then she'll jump right in the back
and down the road we go
with the windows down
and the music loud,
she doesn't like to take it slow.
She's somethin' else, she surely is,
and she never leaves me wantin'.
This all-night-girl really rocks me.
Yes, she sure is somethin'.
766 · Jun 2017
Current Events Haiku
Tyler Matthew Jun 2017
Times like these never
End without someone building
Or breaking a wall.
759 · Mar 2021
Whole New Beast
Tyler Matthew Mar 2021
It is one thing to advocate for equality, representation, and unity.
Indeed, each is an inalienable, fundamental right.
But it is a whole new beast to lay waste
to anything that frightens you or that challenges your beliefs,
or that simply does not mirror your very own ideologies.
How heavy the hand of tyranny that now lays across our mouths,
yet how light our opposition.
Though I do acknowledge the delicacy of the issue at hand,
the fragility of the minds of hysterical mobs
who resolve to smashing windows in blind anger,
who ***** out free thought in daft castigation,
or who ban books even, it seems, like those monsters of history
to which they declare themselves to be diametrically opposed-
even in light of that, it is no excuse
to remain subservient to senseless autocrats
and the absurd legislations they bludgeon us with near daily.
To do this – to do nothing - is to lay down and die
without dignity, spineless and shameful,
though it seems that only myself and a handful of others
can recognize this.  Indeed, how easy it is to glimpse from the fringes.
I, a man of only twenty-seven years, do not recognize you, America.
I long for the days of comfort (so far removed from them, I am)
when I could safely retreat into the lofty and quiet halls of my mind
to enjoy a self-assuring thought that only I created -
a thought with no real purpose but to occupy me for a time,
to entertain me in my moments of dull apathy.
Now I shudder in a cold and contrived prison of vetted words
and unnegotiated mandates where I am told
to wrap myself in our flag to keep warm, to feel safe,
that this is for my own good.
I do not recognize you, America, for this thing you have become.
735 · Jul 2018
The Folly of a Boy
Tyler Matthew Jul 2018
We periscoped through the flowers,
eyes white and wide with
childish wonder,
the color of our petals painted gold,
flashing wildly under beams of sunlight flaring through the leaves,
threatening to fall only too soon.
     Aye, but not us, not then,
for we were in bloom
and it was summer,
and the season proclaimed our love,
and our love the season.
But to look upon that sweet scene,
as would a ****** in the valley,
would be to recognize at once
the folly of a boy
in the presence of the flora.
For what was I to give
when all you wanted was before you?
Tone and subject borrowed heavily from Dylan Thomas and Hugh MacDiarmid.
Tyler Matthew Dec 2020
I don't know about reincarnation
but after you died I saw
a little boy painting an elephant with his fingers
and I thought "there you are"
719 · Jun 2017
Talking to Myself
Tyler Matthew Jun 2017
"It occurs to me that I am America.
I am talking to myself again."
- Allen Ginsberg

What does it mean to be an American?
Does it mean I can say the
Pledge of Allegiance
When I'm told?
Does it means that I can vote for
My president,
Governor, and
County clerk
Even when every choice is a Condemnation?
Does it mean that I must be
Proud of the military?
Does it mean that I am
Entitled to the world's oil reserves?
Is being an American a liberty or
A constraint?
Why are America's trails full of tears?
If I am cold will the
Flag serve to warm me?
Will that be enough?
Is it ever enough?
Does "one nation under God" refer to
My god, too?
Does America's god practice
The golden rule?
When will America keep its nose
Out of the Middle East?
If America loses its nose
In the Middle East, will a new nose
Be elected - this one twice as nosey?
Does being an American mean that
We can only dream in
Red or white or blue?
Does the American dream seem like a
Nightmare to anyone else?
Is it America's bad conscience
That keeps it up at night?
Does America ever get the blues?
Does America ever open a dictionary?
Does America know the
Difference between "democracy" and
"Oligarchy?"
Is America aware that I do?
Can America survive on
Minimum wage?
Does America pay its taxes on time?
Does America go to work every day
With a smile?
Does America punch out and feel Proud?
Does America really blow smoke
Up our *****?
Is six dollars and seventy-seven cents
Enough to get me through the week?
Does America only have one life?
Is one life enough to satisfy her?
What about three-hundred million?
What about me?
699 · Aug 2017
Wild, Pure, Perfect
Tyler Matthew Aug 2017
I can't define poetry.
I don't want to define it.
Let it remain obscure,
like the forest sounds
you hear at night.
Let it terrify you.
Let it crawl in the dark
as you walk by it.
Does it watch me from
behind the tree?
Perched on limb,
does it sneer?
Poetry defies the cage.
Let it.
Let it get the best of you,
running in circles
around the page.
Poetry is a creature,
wild, pure,
perfect by design,
desired and revered.
Let it escape you,
and then follow
as you will.
Title is subject to change
693 · Jul 2017
Tangled Up in You
Tyler Matthew Jul 2017
If you were a color
you would be blue
and I'd be tangled
up in you.
After Bob Dylan's "Tangled Up in Blue."
684 · Jul 2018
The Danger of Coherence
Tyler Matthew Jul 2018
Here I am,
writing poems in a rainstorm
like I'm Poe or something.
I'd honestly rather be asleep,
now and most of the time.
Don't get me wrong,
I love poetry,
and I love rain,
and also I'm not depressed, I swear.
It's just I can't really
**** anything up
when I'm asleep.
But as soon as my eyes are open
(though not really open),
I start waging war on love
like it hurt me or something.
No,
when I'm asleep
I can only dream of it.
649 · Jan 2021
The Sun Through the Rain
Tyler Matthew Jan 2021
I watched you breathing,
your chest rise and fall.
These moments I'll cherish,
but I can't live them all.

We made a life of
both laughter and tears.
But the sun's finally shining,
the rain's starting to clear.
Written to the melody of "Wild Horses" by The Rolling Stones
643 · Jul 2018
Because You're Mine
Tyler Matthew Jul 2018
I went to the graveyard today.
Sat beside your stone,
even through the rain,
just so you didn't feel lonely
(if you can feel at all).
I began to relate recent events.
That didn't take long,
so I sang songs you loved,
songs by Johnny Cash mostly.
I swear when I said
"Because you're mine..."
your stone rang like a bell.
     Something came over me then.
A tear fell down my face
when I remembered you said
nothing as you were leaving me.
I dug into the earth in a fit of passion,
though nearly sure of what I was doing.
I looked at your bones.
Held them.
I wasn't scared and was glad
that no one saw me.
But they didnt look like you.
They weren't smiling,
singing, or anything.
So, I put them back.
Covered them up.
Didn't say a word.
    And I left you.
630 · Dec 2020
On Martyrs and Widows
Tyler Matthew Dec 2020
Not all martyrs meet their gods.
Don't be so quick to die.
There is no glory when blood is spilled,
just widows left to cry.
621 · Jan 2021
Lullaby
Tyler Matthew Jan 2021
Within the blinking of an eye
we live our lives and then we die
with no time left to ponder why
A baby's breath, a tired sigh

We look back on how much we've grown
the loves we had, the threads we've sown
to find ourselves here all alone
with weary heads and hearts of stone

Fighting just to say goodbye
and when we do begin to cry
we sing ourselves a lullaby
and finally we shut our eyes
615 · Dec 2020
America, It Must Be You
Tyler Matthew Dec 2020
America, is that you?
Your stars are looking dim.
Stripes look nice on prison clothes,
but yours are wearing thin.

America, is that you
there behind the mask?
Of course, I too, am wearing mine.
You don't need to ask.

America, is that you
angry in the street,
smashing windows, spreading fire?
And is your dream complete?

America, was it you
I saw on evening news
dancing like a circus monkey,
speaking as you're cued?

America, is that you
propped up by the wall
with little men surrounding you,
waiting for your fall?

America, use your voice
and let me know it's you.
I can't hear much over the noise
that's coming from the zoo.

America, it must be you,
though I can hardly see.
I'm feeling for you in the dark.
America, it's me.
607 · Sep 2017
I Am Here
Tyler Matthew Sep 2017
I am the dog, collared and chained,
deemed useless and left alone.
I am the nail in the wall left unhammered, jutting to snag at your sleeve.
I am the hole in your line through which all of your energy will be filtered or lost.
I am heavy with meaning and weightless with meaning and grounded in someone else's reality.
I am that reality, while my own remains silent and hidden and threatening.
I am a threat to some, no one to someone, and everything to one.
I am the card in play, always, even
when you leave the table and
I will be there when you get back.
Also, I am the deck and few cards are missing.
I am the mirror in which you might one day see yourself and startle your eyes into misrecognition.
I am the cup that overfloweth,
and the child guilty for wanting.
I am the season which seems like it will never let up.
I am the sun casting rays of golden relief on the faces of many lonely strangers.
I am the forgotten sun, just as well.
I am the ruin of those who came here before me and the stain they left on the white fabric of time.
I am the fabric, loose and changing
in the winds of perpetuity.
I am a glass sphere in the midst of a landscape, puzzling and divine and uncanny alike.
I am a door left unopened.
I am a line with no end and a point with no beginning and I will let it be known that I am here seeking all.
571 · Dec 2020
Out of Line
Tyler Matthew Dec 2020
If you are a man, but
we share no blood between us,
if you are a man, but
are no mentor of mine,
do not tell me how I've made you proud, for
I consider that to be out of line.
563 · Dec 2020
god and the president
Tyler Matthew Dec 2020
No poem of mine will ever make me famous,
     especially not the ones about
god and the president.
Maybe this is for the best;
     you've seen what fame has done to
god and the president.
quickwrite
555 · Jul 2018
Recipe
Tyler Matthew Jul 2018
Someone said to me once
that "you have to have empathy
to be a true poet."
     You have to have empathy
to be a true person.
I said that.
554 · Dec 2020
Dream of Spring
Tyler Matthew Dec 2020
When ice and snow does winter bring
I close my eyes and dream of spring
when flowers blush, where Sun is king
and wake to hear a bluebird sing
Tyler Matthew Jun 2019
I watched the morning newscast
and found my mind straining to
get out.
Out into a widening desert,
sky open and black above save for
the piercing light of billions of stars
like holes in a living room curtain.
You can call me crazy for it,
but I thought I saw Ginsberg
looking at me through the window
with a sunflower behind his ear.
In fact, I'm almost certain this was anything but an hallucination as my cat pounced at the window
(she never liked my poems either, Allen)
and startled me back into reality.
The television, right, the newscast.
Nuclear bombs and
tariffs on Mexican goods and
oh look, the president is playing golf with the Queen.
I turned it off when I saw he hit a bogey,
parted the curtains, and thought, "That's it, I'm pleading insanity. See you in Bellevue, Allen."
535 · May 2018
Train Station Blues
Tyler Matthew May 2018
Well now your tears
they don't bother me.
I said your tears
they don't bother me at all.
You know your tears
they don't bother me.
Your tears, now,
they dont bother me at all.
But I'd hate to see you leaving.
Leave me with my back
against the wall.

I saw your train pull in the station.
I heard the whistle start to blow.
Yeah, as your train got to the station
I could hear that lonesome whistle start to blow.
Well, I could meet you down the line,
but where you're headed
I just dont know.

As those wheels got to turning,
so did my heart, girl, ya know it did.
When them wheels started turning,
so did my heart, girl, yes it did.
And I could see you in the window
laughin' like some little kid.

I guess my tears didnt bother you
and you know that's such a shame.
I guess my tears didn't bother you
and ain't it such a shame.
'Cause the reason they were falling
is 'cause you're gone and I'm to blame.
Tyler Matthew Aug 2017
the metal silence
of an empty river town
still rings in my ears

boy dreams in big words,
looking out from the porch to the
pond growing algae

moon is alive with
vivid colors and pictures,
reflection of this

wake to the smell of
bacon frying up the hill,
grandma cracks an egg

this recurring dream:
rolling down the hill naked,
logs rolling behind

the trees are it all
and I might be part of it,
so I like to think

we built a treehouse
at the edge of the cornfield
and never used it

it was hot I remember
and I didn't like the sound of
the hammer on wood

I said it was a
cornfield, but it only used
to be a cornfield

now just mud and ruts
and a place to stand when we
feel introspective

when a good thought leaves
the mind and's not recovered
it ends up right here

rustbelt suburban
teenagers smoke and ride in
the dead of the night

when I close my eyes
riding in the backseat now,
I pray that we leave
Work in progress
514 · May 2018
We Are the Generation
Tyler Matthew May 2018
We are what our parents' parents
taught them to fear.
The atom of liberated thought,
the shallow, the queer, the lazy.
We are what our fathers were not,
or what they never had the ***** to be.
We are united by the hypothesis
of instant pleasure.
We are measured by dollar signs,
nickels, dimes, roaring down
Penny Lane blaring hip-hop,
dropping the surnames and
blaming the slave trade for
the stains on our rap sheets.
We are what comes after the comma
in the history book sentence,
sentenced to life in mind-drug prison.
Listen!
We are going nowhere but forward.
We are the generation of disorder,
hoarders of unrealized potentials
who cross borders
just to say we did so.
We are the flame of ******* science
turning your bibles into embers.
We are the generation that
remembers to forget.
Let us take an inch and we will
turn it into a mile so you can
watch us march down it single-file
while you pray to god we don't
make it to Capitol Hill.
You know we will.
Listen!
We are the generation.
Tyler Matthew Aug 2017
I'm too young to be thinking
the good days are gone,
to feel lost in a crowd
of people my age.
I'm too young to want nothing
but a moment alone,
or to skip through the book,
not minding each page.

I'm too old to ask help
from kind souls who offer,
to crawl on all fours,
or to cry in my sleep.
I'm too old to be dreaming
of peace in my mind.
But no matter our age,
dreams are all we can keep.
Quick write - after reading it about 6 times, I have deduced that this poem is ****. But I'm going to leave it here anyway.
501 · Aug 2017
Smooth Sailing Out of Here
Tyler Matthew Aug 2017
Relax, relax,
you will be remembered.
No need to commit
thy image to stone.
Breathe, breathe,
let time do the talking.
No need to feel lonely,
you are not alone.
Rest, rest,
take heed of your moments.
Do what you love
and forsake the rest.
Live, live,
like no one is watching.
When your soul is gathered
love will manifest.
488 · Jan 2018
Fading of the Light
Tyler Matthew Jan 2018
Looking out across a sea of green,
wond'ring where you are
and where you've been.
You should really see this view,
and the tea is set for two.
Where are you?

Is the sun just in my eyes,
or is this real?
Slowly turns the day upon its wheel.
My hope, I fear, will fade
like the light into the shade.
And so I pray:

Please,
won't you come back home to me?
Won't you please?
Set my weary mind at ease.
Is that you
I see moving through the trees,
or just another
cold and lonely breeze?

Looking out across a sea of green,
wond'ring what we are
and what we'll be.
O, how I wish I knew.
It would help me to get through.
Where are you?
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