Poems, Writings by Bryan Martin
an example from"Educated Metal Head" Bryan's autobiography
"When Midnight Calls"
When we finally had a singer who could sing on an iron maiden level we really exploded.
Performing and recording my music became a 24 hour obsession that nothing and no one could keep me from. When I think of the sacrifices I made in the name of witch meadow it drives me crazy. Nothing else mattered except the music, not my family, not my health, not even fiancees or girlfriends. I had only one lover and her name was heavy metal. I breathed it, talked about it, and dreamt about it constantly. While friends and family got married got jobs and got money to purchase the good things in life I practiced and performed. It paid off in that we recorded the first tape to rave reviews across the underground metal world. Five to Six nights a week we would practice from about 5pm till we were done. That might be 11pm or 3 am. Then off to work the next day too tired to do anything but show up. Saturday nights we would have a "song showcase". We wouild invite some friends down to our studio to listen to our set and check out new tunes. It worked for awhile but then the party really got rolling. So Saturday nights in our studio began to look like a small club venue. You had wall to wall kids, cars all over the parking lot. We would play literally for hours. Someone would always bring us beer. Our number one rule was whatever happens in the band room stays in the band room. Things as you can imagine got pretty crazy. The worst thing was that the party began to start on Friday and then Thursday nights and we were losing our ability to write tunes in peace. Still we carried on. Our first shows went down well and we began to attract a following. There is nothing like performing to a crowd of people who know your songs. Our partying on Saturday nights had paid off because word had spread about our music. We hit that stage like a hurricane and we were relentless. Bands that followed us were usually cover bands and we left them nothing. Most would always look at us like some sort of disease but after we played they knew what we were and usually had more respect. If they didn’t it would always make us play even harder
An Example from "Barrington Blood"
"The rain swept wind rocked the Ford Tempo gently as he drove over the middle of the Mount Hope Bridge. On the road home to Riverside he would pass thru Bristol, Warren, Barrington until finally reaching the safety of working class Riverside. On the way he would pass the White Steeple church and the bridge where his wife had died two years earlier. It was the anniversary of her passing and Kane wanted to get home as quickly as possible. Leaving the Riverside police and becoming a private investigator was a godsend for him. The death of his wife had been devastating to him. He felt her loss grow worse every day and he had sunk into a bottle too many times to remain active on the force. He retired early and pursued insurance fraud perps in southern Rhode Island. It was easy work that kept him occupied. In the meantime he sought counseling and mental therapy for his pain. It worked and he was on his way to full recovery perhaps even returning to active duty with Riverside’s finest. He enjoyed living in Riverside and had never thought about leaving although his mother wanted him to move to florida. Too hot,too slow and too old he would say to her. No this was his home and he loved New England."
WITHOUT A TRACE
"There's been a murder in the house of seven gables
a sin of trust and a belief in fables
cutting thru the lies that built a wall on me
swatting at the flies that have come to feast on me
tearing down the world just to build it up again
smashing all my mirrors so I cannot see your face
there's a crack in the wall where my angel sleeps
a fire in the attic where my demon hides
I know the trust I gave is something you erased
and the love we shared is missing without a trace
In the backyard of the house of seven gables
I made a wish on a fallen dead end star
covered you in leaves as you shared of my soul
burned away the sheets as we made love out of pain."
A SAMPLE FROM THE UPCOMING FANTASY STORY " A FOOL AND HIS SWORD"
Avis Linter sat impatiently in the great corridor of king ramuel the third, and fidgeted with his shoes. They were too tight and he had told his father that before they had left for the castle two days ago. But his father, the great faran the second, was too obsessed with getting to the tournament of fools to care. Much rode on the winning of this competition for his father and their family. The war to the east had come close last spring and food was scarce. At least within the walls of the city castle a man could breathe easier. And if you could make the king and his court laugh, well you just might get to stay in the royal house itself. But avis hated being a fool. He hated the jokes, the clothes, he even hated although he would never say it to his father, the funny twinkling bells on his too tight shoes. For generations the Linter’s had been fools. And they were generally proud of it too. His great uncle, shervas had actually saved a nobleman from choking to death. But Avis was a dreamer and as luck would have it he really wasn’t that good at being a fool. This embarrassing secret was something that his father did well to hide. "You will grow into it son." He would say nervously every time Avis would miss the punch line or drop his funny hat. But Avis longed for a different path in life. He actually found himself longing to be a royal knight. " Your too short to be a knight" His mother would say. Avis was not convinced, even stealing away from his juggling training to watch the jousts and the mock battles of the royal guard.
An Example From " Do You Want To Live Forever?"
Do You Want To Live Forever
By Bryan Martin
"They were dead, had been that way for years. But that is not to say that they were not without a spark of life. The four of them were actually having the time of their undead lives. They didn’t mope around the headstones and weep for what was lost. No, these four teenagers reveled in it. They soaked up the night like the blood they spilled. But something was changing even in their unchanging, undying, world. For although they were forever young the world around them had continued to grow old. Fashions came and went, and the music of their generation began to fade into memory. This was something they had never bargained for. Who knew that within twelve years of their re-birth that the music scene would shift. All the bands they had come to live and die for had now come to the end of their shelf lives. It was now a very depressing place for them. Once, they ruled the night and now they seldom ventured anywhere. Hiding in the shadows of the future, they now regretted ever becoming a part of this insanity. Bobby Ravenclaw knew that if something didn’t change and soon, then he and his three mates would be lost forever. He knew that Randy, Shelia, and Tommy were losing interest in this undead funhouse they had created. Without music they were nothing. Hell you couldn’t even find any good shows to go to anymore. Bobby remembered when heavy metal bands would come to the civic center twice a week all summer long. The music... it was dead, as dead as they were. And that pissed him off to no end. What the hell happened to the metal bands of old? Where was Manowar and Motley Crue? Nobody played guitar anymore. Hip hop had seen an end to that."
HEAL ME WHEN I BLEED
"If I'm hungry will you feed me?
give me all I need?
Will you let me plant my seed
and heal me when I bleed?"