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Feb 2016 · 354
Steven Martin Feb 2016
Filthy pitted face
            Bile Green

Gleaming viscous fangs
                   Bright Yellow

From time to time
           this friend of mine
                   comes to say hello

The stench nauseating
    grinding knots
      in my bowels

I respond promptly enough,
quick strike to the dome,
and he recoils to the shadows

But to pretend his whispers
       can't be heard
to pretend the gleam in my eyes
       as I feign integrity
                isn't him

That right there,
Is a bit more challenging.

So bottoms up,

        Let's entice our demons

                   To come and play
Feb 2016 · 266
Steven Martin Feb 2016
I love you, I say

    with the slightest metallic shimmer
in my eyes

nearly imperceptible body armor
cold to the touch

Such a weak way to go about love.
Jan 2016 · 221
Steven Martin Jan 2016
I hear the sound of my footsteps

          and the beating of my heart

My heart reaches its tender fingers


And the impending silence fills me
Jan 2016 · 244
Sweet Poison
Steven Martin Jan 2016
Trust nothing I say

I yield lips of sweet poison

To part other's lips
Nov 2015 · 230
Steven Martin Nov 2015
large embers cool slowly

Waiting for the faintest breath

to blow them back to life
A single text, a flood returns
Oct 2015 · 397
Steven Martin Oct 2015
I sit upon my chair and think of life
It feels this stage is set right on a knife

To left, a choice to fall into the clay
Into machines, they grind and knead away

To right, the darkness eats at time itself
Room flips, and values fall from off your shelf

Just kiss the knife with toes one at a time
Breath slow, the edge, I pray, will grow, to feel

insanity waits for those who fall
Oct 2015 · 354
Steven Martin Oct 2015
Her I sit, just trying to write
Applying to jobs like that’s my life’s plight

To pave right ahead, don’t think till I’m dead

Grows heavy feelings in fingers like lead

What feels not genuine in things I’m sendin them?

I try and be real yet I see I pretend again

Again and again, deceits all I’m lendin them

Breath nice and slow and try an begin again

Again and again, nothings been mended friend

Take what you’ve got and take what you’ve done

Throw all that on paper, compressed into one

One single page

My resume

What does it say of me?

Dry tidbits of years and hours that came from me

Once it was sang from me

Once pulsed and rang from me

Like torrents of heart, blood, and tears

It all drained from me

Left out in the sun, some dry shrinking things

The future will come
Let it bring what it brings
Sep 2015 · 358
Give me Breath for Death
Steven Martin Sep 2015
Tock clicks
   As life, and Love,

   To my heart fail
Genuine emotion
   My only hope to prevail

The Swirl
   and Swivel
Of this grisly, grimy
   Theater dribble

As hearts dance
    Together and Apart
Doomed to bitter distance
   From the very start
As Nonsense
Sep 2015 · 258
Steven Martin Sep 2015
Strip me of my future endeavors

    Let me live in this present moment

(and both melt away)
Typed away on an iPhone drunk in bed at night
Aug 2015 · 235
Steven Martin Aug 2015
I am ugly

    I am putrid

                                        I am beautiful
                                              I am perfect
Aug 2015 · 195
Steven Martin Aug 2015
My fear that when I love her back, the mist of illusion will fade, and I will be standing with my heart in my outstretched hand, blood dripping to the pavement, just a man.
Aug 2015 · 608
Steven Martin Aug 2015
Open cavity in my chest

Heart thumping wildly in my open palm

Blood splattered on the pavement
                               and my luggage

As I stand at the bus stop

And wait for a ride to the train
Written after a sleepless night of sweaty skin sticking to a leather couch
Jul 2015 · 437
Steven Martin Jul 2015
The world slides at your receipt
I need to ***, but that brings heat!

Eh. Feel me as I type. The description of which I bring is essential yet nonconsequential. The words spill with unending disregard for the futility of the fingers of which types them. I am to die. No one will read this. What is the purpose of this eccentric divulgence? Man is perpetuating artistic self-indulgence that allows for self, I said SELF, consuming fires.

Such a silly line I throw down for mere enjoyment. I like to hear this rhetoric spill of off my lips. Like a greasy…pig?

Why do we degrade this animal that so closely resembles us? Why do we cast it into the filth and mud to a place that it does not deserve? Arrogance I predict. The pig is not so far from us.

As I sit on this keyboard, depressed, unfulfilled, consumed, and disgusted. With whom? Not the pig, that is ensured. I type with violent disgust of myself and those of which I wish to share my existence.

Truly? Not so. I just want to express what I can with my fingertips. See how they dance and explore the keyboard. There seems to be nothing that holds them back. A vast plethora of subconscious goo for fuel.
Jul 2015 · 423
Steven Martin Jul 2015
Nightfall. A sliver of moon in the sky. The rumbling and tumbling of shouting free spirits toss around the meandering darkness. All that segments this organic manifestation, is an occasional, thump.

At least to the narrator. One ‘blessed’ step at a time. The eternal and everlasting thump of one foot in front of the other. Wonder if my longing and hammered foot travels as Telemachus?

The birds chirp in harmonious rhythm. Odd. Should either chirp with a sway, or be passed out, by now. All us tethered beings should swing with the immortal swing, or so I’m thinking.

Tick, tock. Arabica, slam. Jam with the jittery, immortal jam. Or whatever garb I had been throwing my way. Passed through the ‘wisdom’ of my culture, and greedily accepted by my reward circuity.

One big, machine ‘learner’.

Putting that all behind us, it always leaves a longing soul with gritting teeth.

So there I was. 4 p.m. Caffeine crash can’t even begin to describe it. A ‘crash’ designates a single day. A single face to face relationship with ones decision to kiss and tango with a sacred substance.

I was knee, I say knee, deep, in an affair.

At that point it’s not just some shallow reaction to your mind grasping at some crutch it has designated for a moment.

Not to be dramatic. But habit flows to river real quick.

So there I was. 4 p.m. Tryin to swim.

All I had for a life raft. *****.

Get drunk with my friends. That giddy, pushin others on my level on a weekday, giddy.

Push that bravais lattice, PDE numerical simulation, concentration boundary layer, **** to the side.

I was tryin’ to push MY boundary layer.

Yet here I am. 2 a.m.

Everyone is sleepin’.

All I have for company is my, thump, thump, thump.

On my way to the ocean.

Because God will listen to me Cry, and Scream.
May 2015 · 254
Steven Martin May 2015
I girl biked by today, in rain
Saw her through the window pane

  My arms were crossed
      Her eyes shone glee
  Our two looks locked
      Enticing me

  Threw out a wave
      So naturally
  She waved back
      So gracefully

  The rain still falls
      Her tracks did fade
  But memories
      Her waves have made
Its raining
Nov 2014 · 514
The Sand is Soft on my Sole
Steven Martin Nov 2014
Wounded lover
Wandering on the beach
There is no life here
That is no life to me
But the sand is soft on my sole

Blank gaze of the pitiless moon on my back
Speaking of things that once were
And never will be again

Soft glow of the rising sun on my breast
Oil slick reflections in the sand
Dinosaurs scavenging for sustenance

Why am I here?
Only the meaning we give it
Only the meaning we give it
Only the meaning we give it

Devoid of form

Repetition like insanity

Vortices swarm my ankles
Icy cold grip of a long lost mother

Reaching to consume her

    Blind and Reckless


There is no life I know there
Incessant drone of the pitiless waves

Soft glow of the fading moon on my breast
Her power slipping
Devoid of life
A lone rock

Warmth of the rising sun on my back
The sand is soft on my sole

Porcelain mug dangling empty in my hand
Water droplets stain my spectacles
Looking down from the staircase

Bright rays of the sun dance across the waves
To my Eyes
Water folds softly around eager rocks

Colors fade from the sky
A clear blue overhead

Clear as my soul once was

Walking on glass sprinkled streets
With numb feet

The Sand was Soft on my Sole
Written by a rambling voice walking aimlessly on the beach in the early morning after a passionate night and few hours of sleep

Translated to a poem
Sep 2014 · 280
To Find
Steven Martin Sep 2014
Her skin
So smooth

Each curve
A groove

She walks
With mind

I search
She’ll find
Sep 2014 · 285
Her Whispers
Steven Martin Sep 2014
From deep within a Dream I’ve woken

From the Whispers she has Spoken

Her fingertips like Lucid shock

Before, my mind, it was like Rock

Her gentle soul
It has awoken

Deep inside
My Passion broken

With gentle care and perfect pace

She smoothes my wrinkles into place

The wisdom of the tree and star

Flows with whispers

Through my heart
Sep 2014 · 1.7k
Longing via Fb
Steven Martin Sep 2014

My solar plexus is really feelin
you right now
Powerfully internal longing
I mean ****
Even digital communication is
And you know how I feels

I do!!
Ergo my slight surprise

I'm missin you girl

as I feel we've indeed kept the
whole not-getting-too-sticky-
over-text communication
you're making my heart smile

I feel you from here :)
I'm trying to get up there
Before school starts I want to go
explore places with you

month left!
ample time

Start thinking of places you'd
want to check out
We could crash in the back of
my car or tent or whateva
And get mad homies to come too
But I think a lil day trip with us
soloing could be very cool

find a creek
we'll be there. only paddle
needed being yours
I just miss you on top of me,
hugging my body to yours
the feel of your shoulders

Lightly touch your neck with fingertips
As they find their way to the
roots of your hair
And I squeeze
And a hard kiss
As I stare
Deep into your eyes


I'm driving so I fear I shall stop promptly

why would you drive and talk to me -_-

Reckless lust.
Laying underneath the stars with
you in my arm
Thought fills me with warmth




As soon as
And not possible
Buenos noches
Satine dulce
Sep 2014 · 301
Steven Martin Sep 2014
Emotions come, expressions glide
Some words emerge from deep inside
Each scratch from pen
Immortal Zen
Each Page is where it will begin

Yet secret slips,
This never ends
Sep 2014 · 223
The Secret
Steven Martin Sep 2014
The darkness Grows
My weakness Shows
As evidence of Chaos Glows
This must all be for fun
      He Knows
Sep 2014 · 331
The Immortal Plight
Steven Martin Sep 2014
I sit on chair, so late at night
My pen has scratched, it fought its fight
     The Sacred Fight, Immortal Plight
     Speaking what it thought was right
Sep 2014 · 207
Perfect Time
Steven Martin Sep 2014
Curled up, so tightly writing
Stare at hand, the thing supplying
Rhythm, rhyme, structure divine
Words I speak, in perfect time
Sep 2014 · 290
Steven Martin Sep 2014
Fire burned, with no direction

Strictly Up, straight towards Heaven

         All now left, are embers glowing
         Mere shadows of, what I was knowing
Sep 2014 · 709
Steven Martin Sep 2014
Numbing down the sparking thoughts

I drink my beer

I smoke my ***

         Leaving Leaping Flames to rot
Sep 2014 · 361
Perfect Weather
Steven Martin Sep 2014
Voice rings out to empty room

Echoes seem to speak my doom

Context seems to show my gloom

      But the echoes lies
      Live in disguise
      and to my surprise

My breath sends out such morbid death

Yet pressure seems to leave my chest

Relieves the stress, unlike the rest

      Those sunny skies
      Those days of pleasure
      Conceal some lies
      With perfect weather
Sep 2014 · 254
Pages Unspoken
Steven Martin Sep 2014
My thoughts of now sharing,
To those who are caring,
Of how I am faring,
These poems so blaring,
Of emotions raring,
It leaves me stuck staring

At a page
     Covered in bleeding ink
Sep 2014 · 307
Steven Martin Sep 2014
Looking at lies
Told by these eyes
Leaves no surprise
I live
    A Disguise
Sep 2014 · 314
The Empty Sea
Steven Martin Sep 2014
Following hesitancy
Which followed brilliancy
Leaving me empty, see?

The finality
Of a propensity
Toward brilliancy
Is the inevitability

Of an Empty Sea
Sep 2014 · 623
Steven Martin Sep 2014
Some anomaly
Grows inside of me
Knows in spite of me

All I cannot see
Jul 2014 · 446
My Fire
Steven Martin Jul 2014
I arise early with an

Attentive mood

Looking back to last summer

And my 5 a.m. necessary release

Reading my expressive mind

Remembering the struggle

Of what I left behind

My love
Her life
Our connection

But not my passion
That was kept

and Intensified

That ******* can hurt
Pushing on my solar plexus
And chest


I don’t feel that way

Someone has a fancy
For My Fire
reminiscing on my last summers surprise 5 a.m. writing spurt...I was in quite a different place
Jul 2014 · 224
Eternal Sky
Steven Martin Jul 2014
From time to time, with clearest sight
I feel I see the world right
Harmonious vibrations spread
Syn-chrosity, one step ahead

At other moments darkness comes
Fogs clarity, I lose the hum
My jumbled thoughts, emotions fray
I’m looking far beyond today

When young, the sorrow gripped me tight
Stared life in eye, prepared to fight
Felt separated from the flow
Felt separate from what I know

I am the source of all I see
My souls not trapped inside of me
From bang till final breath, I ride
A wave born from eternal sky
Jul 2014 · 283
The Circle
Steven Martin Jul 2014
Moving past my released fumes
I try to just sit back, resume

The conscious quest of my own heart
The fingertips, they dance. A start.

Look at my skin, my groves of hair
I wonder why my life led here

Potential fills so many paths
That I may take, it gives me wrath

Each subtle step I choose to take
Who knows what future it will make

I want to quell, bring to peace to all
The hatred of which I appall

But growing deep, so deep inside
An evil of which I do hide

My own shortcomings, big and small
Withholding sacred peace for all

Each day, dichotomy doth grow
Between two choices I do know

One choice doth let the joy just grow
For others all around, I know

Yet quite another doth exist
Often this one I resist

The natural choice, no second thought
Though part of me doth fear I’ll rot

If I succumb to carnal choice
Listening to natural voice

Eating filth so quickly bought
Consuming drugs that lead to rot

Ignoring homework, tests, and calls
Living just to have “a ball”

To just let go, and trust the stream
To live as if within a dream

Behave the way of which I’m born
Ignoring social looks of scorn

To flow eternally in peace
Realizing that nothing holds me

Away from the eternal hum
Each worry can be quelled to mum

This final step I cannot take
Til’ I release the bonds I make

To family and friends alike,
Material possessions strike

So deep into my peaceful state
This crucial choice I’ve yet to make

Perhaps this fear and woe, is why
I chose to make eternit-ay

The never ending circle spins
Each moment I feel it begins
Jun 2014 · 753
Steven Martin Jun 2014
“The twinkle in my eye”
She says

The twinkle in my eye?
He stripped of passion.
He stripped of feeling.

Such words sang from a freshly cut melon.
Smiling up at me
Eyes glistening from fascination
Chest glistening from the essence
Of a coconut (and a small amount of saliva)

Curves of unfathomable length
Lips of explored (and unexplored) depths
Luscious locks of the moonless sky
Leave me lavished with listless languish
For just a moment

But my breath returns
My energy rebalanced
Spirit re

Sweet Satine
Jun 2014 · 309
Time Will Turn
Steven Martin Jun 2014
Sweet Satine
Curving through my neglected dreams
With curves that never end it seems
But time hath stole
Her skin
And soul

But time will turn
Just that I know
Jun 2014 · 3.2k
Coconut Oil
Steven Martin Jun 2014
Such a quick glimpse
Of such a sacred creature
Living with passion
Each and every feature

My bed is now empty
But the stains
Of coconut oil
Mar 2014 · 4.0k
Steven Martin Mar 2014
She steps with silence through the snow
The lilies love her laugh and know
She speaks with kindness

Knowing deeply
What comes after.
Mar 2014 · 423
To Know Thyself
Steven Martin Mar 2014
He sat tapping his finger on the bottom of his shoe, Italian leather, legs crossed.

“I really think the whole things *******.”

He was Anthony Ratier. Sitting outside a coffee shop along a crowded path.

“Its been carried on for so ******* long, nobody even considers it.”

He wore a Black Italian suit jacket. Black slacks. White Shirt.

“The one thing I can’t quite understand is how nobody else seems to question it.”

He was smoking a hand rolled stoge. Loosely rolling it between his fingers carelessly and occasionally pressing it to his lips.

“They just scuttle on day after day with such putrid confidence. I can’t stand it.”

He had a dark and sharp complexion. Long bangs of straight jet black hair hanging in front of the blue windows of his soul. The blue so bright, so sharp, so penetrating…

“I just want to stand on this chair and scream at them! Tear them from their ******* shells and throw them into oblivion!”

At this he took a long drag on his hand roll and extinguished it directly on the table.

“But no one would allow that. They’d shut me out with ease. Not a soul would hear me.”

At this he stood up and straightened his tie.

His tie.

About the only thing original on the guy.

Bright intricate patterns of red gold and silver.

With a large flower of life in the center.

“To know thyself. Ha! We can’t know the sky isn’t about to come crashing into the ocean to tear apart the hills.”

“Ourselves is about the last thing we’ll ever know.”
Mar 2014 · 453
Can you hear it Calling?
Steven Martin Mar 2014
He sat on his weathered couch in a dark and dank living room.

“Can you hear it calling?”

He seemed to speak to the silence.

“It yearns to lunge from my chest….Sometimes it pushes so hard.”

The words bounced off of walls and refracted…into…spider webs…

The heavy air loomed about his thoughts with unbearable weight. The darkness surrounding his cave seemed to expand forever.

“I don’t understand who has blessed me with this curse…is it arrogance or destiny?”

He sat with his large hands caressing the many wrinkles and divets of his wearisome and weathered face.

“You bring this upon yourself, you know.”

The voice echoed and boomed, enshrouding his very being.

It seemed the voice came from the walls…closing in….

“How can you say that?? Why would anyone do this to themselves??”

He shrieked in despair.

The walls themselves scoffed and howled in offense.

“This room. The blackness. The stench. The rotting carcass.”

Again the voice boomed with unrelenting and disconcerting authority.

“Who else is their origin? Things don’t just grow. Something manifests them.”

He pulled at his cheeks with his long and sharp fingernails, exposing the heavy dark circles below his bright and sunken eyes.

“How can I escape?? I never wanted this for myself! I can still hear it calling!”

His words pressed hard against the walls. The pounding energy of the blast continued to reflect and dance around shadows and spiders.

“There is no escape. You are a child of your choices and are chained to their destiny.”

At this he stood. He threw back the tattered and stained quilt he had been quivering beneath.

“Then I will face the darkness! I will stare fury and fire in the eyes and I will not quiver!”

He shot his hands into the sky and blasted a billow of flame at the rotting wood he called a ceiling.

“If this is my home then I shall call it my domain! If this is my destiny then I shall be its master!”

With a great toss of his hands he banished the darkness from him and walked out of the door.
Feb 2014 · 324
Steven Martin Feb 2014
I don’t even know what to right

But I want to express my feelings in some way

Its all in my gut

This longing

There’s no other way I can describe it

Like my entire being wants another environment

A whole different set of stimulus

It isn’t always like this

I can appreciate the small things

The simplicities

Of life

Perhaps I just suffer through the appreciation

I’m not sure if effort toward appreciation

Makes any ******* sense

I read countless techniques of

Calculated happiness

Like life is a series of steps

Leading to a

Prescribed harmonious vibration

Its beautiful really

But I’m not sure I swallow

The idea that this path leads to this such reality

And days of such


I wish to let my spirit free

With eloquence and fluidity

Vigor and relentless expression

of Self

and Soul

and Spirit

And these equations seem to hold me in chains.
Feb 2014 · 1.1k
The Excitement is Addicting
Steven Martin Feb 2014
A morning of escape via sheets and pillow
A day of escape via coffee and comeda
A night of escape via I.P.A.
And marijuana

And thus the passions return
As expected
At 12:13 A.M.

Such a longing of soul to an extent that I cannot rationalize or define

My very being expanding past my expectations of its spatial limit

Pressing so very ******* my solar plexus

A low frequency thud

To my heart


This will never leave
It makes me knees shake
And my foundations shudder

Fear enters my heart

But the excitement is addicting.
Feb 2014 · 507
Simply Grinding
Steven Martin Feb 2014
Tis unfortunate
It must be this way

Engineers grinding side by side
Minds focused on such abstract

I wish to walk with her
And speak of fanciful dreams

I wish to hold her close at night
Just to hold her

Walks through the darkness
Exploring the twinkling of the stars
And the crashing of the waves

Such a experience to explore together

And we simply grind
Feb 2014 · 609
What a God damn goddess
Steven Martin Feb 2014
Exhausted from slaving
All night

But she brings such happiness out of me
It does not even matter
I haven't slept in over 36 hours

I wish to exude a good vibe for her
Thats wrong--

I have no choice
She pulls it out of me
With her gentle focus

She brings such a smile out of me
I did not know it before

After such a day
Of stress and tension

She settles my nerves

What a ******* goddess
Feb 2014 · 278
Steven Martin Feb 2014
Sitting next to her
Hours of homework

With her gentle

Such a powerful presence
for her character

I did not know
Feb 2014 · 418
To Consider Thyself
Steven Martin Feb 2014
To Consider Thyself

I speak to others
        Day to day

At time considering
        At times flowing

Each different.

Why the difference?

Some flow so eternally
       Never looking back
                Always experiencing

Others are trapped in recollection
Only experiencing
        When caught off guard
                 When they can’t consider
Foreign stimulation.

What a line. Foreign Stimulation.

Doesn’t sit well with me. Like an illusion.

Each sensation. So novel. Unexperienced. Foreign.

If everything is foreign, nothing is foreign.

Taking to the extreme incites a conclusion.
We are what we perceive.

Everything is known.

Why then, do I consider, that I consider, that I consider, that I consider…

Found this little guy in a random folder while attempting to do homework. Quite a pleasent read because I'm currently on a flow binge ;)
Feb 2014 · 401
Media Distractions
Steven Martin Feb 2014
Allow the media distraction to take hold
Hours of poetry
And Vibrations

Settle Something

The coffee is delicious
And the oats are nutritious
(with the seeds and powders and fruit)

Searching for satiating stimulation
Somewhat consciously endless

But for now

As I dabble with circuits
And fluids
And heat transfer

My form of coping
So strange

To so many

But They simply confound me
Feb 2014 · 442
Steven Martin Feb 2014
Slowly proceeding toward substantial studying
Currently satiating sorrow and sadness with scores of sullen sonnets...
Feb 2014 · 429
Love lost in translation
Steven Martin Feb 2014
Surrounded and swimming with sullen others struggling

We simply cope strangely and separately

Souls distant, spread by

Separate Experience

Love and eternal life
Lost in prescribed hallucinations
By fate

Love lost in translation
Feb 2014 · 318
The Warmth
Steven Martin Feb 2014
Days when I feel so cold
And empty

The struggle seams selfish
But sustains

At times I need something to rely on
Something to give me hope
A warmth

Coming after winter

I can nearly envelope myself in the thought
If I let go of the moment
And give in

All of this pain and struggle
And lonesome sorrow
Leaving pits
In I

Will be justified
Perhaps Glorified
As necessity

If it prepares me for her
Only where there is pressure
And heat
Will a diamond be formed

I will be her diamond

She will dust of my
Toxic skin

Tough and calloused
From years of fighting
Transient vapors
To form

The diamond inside

I hold that warmth close to my chest
Let her love envelope my soul
And blanket me from the cold

Her smile eternal
And free

Her laugh
From deep inside her belly

A source of symmetric synthesized vibrations
No schism in her soul

My fear is that day will not come
Where I can lavishly pour my soul and energy
Into such a noble source
Of simple love

Perhaps it is not my purpose
To find love

We all manifest
To Fill a niche

But I will not forget the warmth
For Cold days will return
Feb 2014 · 274
God's Language
Steven Martin Feb 2014
The morning after
The chirping of birds seems distant
Coals of anger left in my chest
Easy to stoke

But the rage has passed
As has the pang of heart aching sorrow

The morning after is always odd
After misdirected lines
off a tv stand
Surrounded by complicated relationships
And voracious women
That spark no interest in my soul
Just my head

The morning after can be very odd
After screaming matches with god
So one sided
At the far end of IV
Down on the beach
At two am

Feeling somewhere between an atheist
And a lunatic

The only response the roaring crash of the relentless waves

As I beg to be told why this must be my path
Why I wallow through this unwarranted longing

But I suppose what did I expect
Of God's Language

The roar of the ocean
So cold and inhumane
Eternally wise and forever changing

Now I enjoy my oats and coffee
Waiting for my heart to lead me out once again
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