Month: September 2016


Leonard Cohen wrote this sad and beautiful song. It is my feels song, whenever I want to really tap into the bucket I go to YouTube and find the hardest hitting soul draining version of this song and drag out whatever is clawing at the inside of my chest.
Now I’ve heard there was a secret chord

That David played, and it pleased the Lord

But you don’t really care for music, do you?

It goes like this

The fourth, the fifth

The minor fall, the major lift

The baffled king composing Hallelujah





Your faith was strong but you needed proof

You saw her bathing on the roof

Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew her

She tied you

To a kitchen chair

She broke your throne, and she cut your hair

And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah





You say I took the name in vain

I don’t even know the name

But if I did, well really, what’s it to you?

There’s a blaze of light

In every word

It doesn’t matter which you heard

The holy or the broken Hallelujah





I did my best, it wasn’t much

I couldn’t feel, so I tried to touch

I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you

And even though

It all went wrong

I’ll stand before the Lord of Song

With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah
“Hallelujah” Original Author Leonard Cohen
This version I am linking some that really hit me… Also, I blame my Pandora station for doing this to me right now. But I blame dragging myself through this on me.

[Kate Voegele|] 
[Rufus Wainwright (ouch)|] 
[Jeff Buckley (GDI)|]


Dollar for Dollar

The fire and brimstone dropped from the tip of his cigarette. He stares at the red glow as it slowly eats away at the cylindrical paper filled with shreds of brown cancer. He lifts the coffin nail up to his dry lips and takes in the sweet treat and breaths out a bit of his soul into the night sky. He watches it drift away into the oblivion of the star speckled night sky, like a ghost finally finding it’s way to heaven.He looks down to see a pair of raccoons raiding the neighbor’s bird feeder like thieves in the night. He watches the furry felons flipping around as they dangle and hang from the feeder, shaking the seeds out like a four year old shaking the coins from their piggy bank. He smiles at the though how mad his neighbor would be at finding the mess in the morning, he might stomp his bunny slippered feet with his varicose vein stripped legs bobbing in and out of his acrid bathrobe.

He sucked the thick death into his body and held it there and slowly let it flare from his nostrils like a darkened face of an old Chinese dragon, left to smolder in an alleyway after a festival. He had seen the darkest part of his days drift through his mind and he tried to burn them away with fire and drown them with malt liquor. The taste of the beer was bitter as the golden liquid slid past what was left of his working taste buds before traversing the torched remains of his throat.

His phone shook around on the ground, he knew the number, he knew what she wanted and he simply didn’t care. Setting the 40 ounces of freedom on the ground with a glass grinding clink he tapped another cigarette out of the pack as he held it’s predecessor in his lips. He pulls the dying cigarette out from his lips and it sticks to his top lip for a moment before releasing it’s death grip. He lays the fresh smoke between his puckered lips and uses the old to spark the new. He dragged deep and the end flared with life. He sent the glowing butt through the air with a mighty flick towards the criminals on the bird feeder, they quickly dropped down as it hit and sparked on the ground, disappearing into the shadows.

A smile parted his lips at the sight of the dashing neerdowells and pulled his smag from his lips and lifted the bottled up and took a mighty swig. The night air started to get a chill but he didn’t mind. He liked a good chill, made him feel alive. The phone shook again on the ground, the dull glow of the screen lit up his right side. He didn’t dare glance at it, it would be giving her power over the moment that was his. It was his moment. Dollars for dollars he wasn’t giving in again. He wasn’t going to look. The bottles hit the ground hard but unflinching. He took another heavy drag of the cigarette, heavy enough that his lungs gave a little scream, then he blew out the fury inside into a massive mushroom cloud erupting from his mouth. This was his death, his life, his eternity and he was done letting anyone tell him how to live his sad existence. 

His emotions betrayed him as the first tears fought it’s way out of his eye against his will. It traversed the stubble and made it’s way to his shirt, disappearing into an off colored splotch. Within seconds it had many friends joining it, painting his chest a darker color, drop by drop.

The cigarette bobbed in his fingers while his body shook. The beer sat still as placid in the it’s safe little world. When he finally stopped, he lifted his head, his cheeks flushes and shined in the moonlight. He saw the cigarette had died along with his spirit. So in a fight for his soul, he shook another one out of the pack and grabbed the lighter from inside the pack. He dragged his finger across the flint, the flame illuminated his wet face that was soon shrouded in a cloud of grey smoke. He smiled behind his safe veil, the chill of the night bit his wet cheeks, he felt alive and a now a little more free.
“Dollar for Dollar” by Rio Martin

For the glory

Issac stood at the top of the hill, the flames engulfing the dry grass around him lit the fierce look on his face. His dark auburn hair seemed to take on a life of it’s own in the swirling air and flames. The soot covering his tattered uniform filled the holes that were torn away during the battle. The blood trailed down his body like small streams of melted wax, as they weaved through the standing hairs on his body.He saw Terrell through the flames, his ebony skin took on a shade of rich coffee and the flames flickered in his coal dust eyes. His smile never faded as he gleamed at Issac’s anger and despair painted on his face.

They were the last one’s standing. The others burned away in the grass below. The smell was putrid yet something in the back of their minds found the smell almost savory. 

Terrell only had his military pants left, and there wasn’t much left of that. His hair had long singed away at the beginning of the battle. Burn marks marred his once smooth skin, yet he smiled.

Issac knew he would have to cross the bodies of his brothers in arms in order to reach Terrell, but at this point he was ready to cross Hell itself. Which to any outside, would be the scene that they would see before them. 

Issac concentrated and focused his energy, using the anger to fuel his passion and inner flames. He felt them flow and break the surface of his skin, engulfing him in his own fire. It glowed a bright teal, and a ground his toes into the dirt ready to begin his descent.

Terrell’s eyes flashed and he was immediately encased in a bright orange flame. He took a stance and smiled as he beckoned Issac. 

Issac’s body exploded with the pure rage he felt by the arrogance Terrell displayed. He charged forward and through the burning flames of his comrades. Their fire bit at his skin but he skimmed across them like a brilliant comet across the face of the sun. He raised his fist as he came through the wall of flames where Terrell stood patiently. 

Terrell simply moved like a flaming top and dodged Issac’s blow and landed an inferno of a punch into Issac’s lower back. The punch send Issac reeling across their small clearing. His flames wavered but he made it back to his feet. 

He went back to his training and focused on beating Terrell versus obliteration. He bounced on his toes and came towards Terrell, taking swing after swing. Terrell would dodge and block, but the blocks would work against both of the men. Their fires would burn and eat away at each other with each contact. 

Terrell absorbed the pain and fed it to his body in fueling the flames. He would not fail. There was no chance for the world if he failed. He was the last warrior of his people to stand up against the tyrants that swept across their lands, stealing everything and burning what they couldn’t. Now he would finish it here. He would finish it now.

Issac became more frustrated at each dodge and block. He couldn’t land a single blow. He knew that at this rate, he was going to lose. He would let his entire brigade down. But they were all dead, so what did it matter.

Terrell noticed the momentary change in Issac and made his move, all the fire vanished from his body and focused into his hands which burned intensely, he threw them up between Issac’s thrusting Issac’s arms apart and began landing blow after tremendous blow into Issac’s body.

Issac felt his body instant go into shock from the barrage of heat and damage he took with 3 seconds of Terrell’s fast moving hands. By the time he could even muster a reaction his was unconscious on his feet. Terrell didn’t stop, his smile was gone, only tears were left. They streamed down his face and evaporate like a great waterfall where the water simply became mist. The man in front of him soon fell away and Terrell fell to his knees, his hands ached and burned. It was over for now, he fell over, his eyes watched the fire creep closer as his eyes fell closed.
“For the glory” by Rio Martin

Bitter Sweet Symphony

He listens to the music as the beat tickles the fine hairs in his ears and trickles into his mind turning into giant waves crashing into the beaches of his mindscape. The notes and words soak into the surface and make their way into their perspective places, exciting the electrons and following along paths that his mind had created for such songs. But this song, these notes find a very different path. One that he had thought he’s protected. One that had walls that had formed within days and this song plowed through the walls like a bunker busting missile.What happened was small at first. Memories began to light up in his mind without him wanting them to, but then they rushed out of their now broken fortress. They fell onto his mind like a tropical storm onto a fishing town. The sheets of rain eventually made their way to his eyes, no matter how hard he fought them from rushing forward. He just wanted to work. Why couldn’t he just work? He shuddered as his shirt became speckled with the salt water waves of the storm. 

Turning in his desk was no good, because the memories now stared at him through tiny panes of glass causing such pain in his very being. The time ahead where he would have to be pulled away from them as well as having to say things like, “It will be okay. Daddy loves you forever and ever. I’ll see you in a week.” 

He knows he will sit in his car and he will cry tears that will feel like they will never stop once he rounds the corner. Once he knows his children will never see him faulter. He is the one who has to be there for them, to comfort them, to be their rock. He knows he will be, he will do his best for them until he has nothing left, then he will give even more. 

But for now he cries silently at his desk. Staring through sheets of salt water that cover his sad eyes like liquid veils morphing his vision. Will they hate him? Will they hate him forever? He hopes against hope that they will forgive him for not being able to continue being there. He hopes that they will understand eventually that Daddy is a better person now. That Dad would never be able to fix himself if he felt like he was constantly fixing everything else. He resigns that he will do his best and hope that will be the everything that they need. He sighs and wipes the salted tears from his cheeks. 

He looks up to see his neighbor mouth, “Are you okay?” He nods in denial of everything he just experiences. He nods in denial of everything that he is about to experience. He nods in the face of the absolute end of an era. 
“Bitter Sweey Symphony” by Rio Martin


It’s nighttime and the bear family gets ready to sleep in their den. Papa settles the Cubs down and after some playtime and playful nibbling, the Cubs settle for bed. Papa bear then goes over to Mother bear, who is restless and lays his giant paw on her back and strokes her fur. She stops moving and falls fast asleep. Papa looks at everyone and listens to the sound of them sleeping in the den. A sound he had become all to familiar with. 

He steps out of the den and sits on his haunch, staring up at the pale night, the moon’s light illuminates the forest. He wonders if the moon is lonely, up there in the sky. Papa nods at the moon in agreement, they will keep each other company.

Night after night, papa keeps the moon company, but one night the moon didn’t show. Papa gazed at the sky and all around looking for his friend. Where had his friend gone. Papa bear year yawned and went back inside. He laid down with mother bear and laid their listening to everyone sleep. Soon he fell asleep, cold and alone on the floor. Wondering, where his moon went and hoped it would return.

“Unbearable” by Rio Martin


It’s in the eyes, the moment sadness sweeps across the face. It’s as if the sadness is a pebble that is dropped into the pool of the eyes and the waves slowly flow across the face. Depending on the size of the peddle, it can be a subtle or extreme change to ones outward appearance. I cannot tell you how to hide from the pebbles, because they are everywhere. What I can tell you, is that there is happiness and joy in world. They are more like a warm breeze that blows across the pool. Making your whole face change from the smile in your beautiful eyes, where your dimples meet your nose and to the corners of your mouth. So may warm breezes find your face where ever you may roam. 
“Eyes” by Rio Martin 

Just me being me

Does anyone have so many realities floating around in their head, that sometimes you catch yourself living another one instead of the one you’re in? As a writer, I have 20 worlds floating in my head at a time. It’s magical and scary all at the same time. So many lives in my mind. So much love, so much sadness, and so much adventure all drifting through the ether of my cranium. People wonder why I forget things, simply put, I misplaced it. It’s in there, but where did I leave it? I maybe left it by those robots or maybe with those love birds over there, snap, it might be with the orcs. They are a shady bunch. My reality is a multiverse with my brain being the plain in which they all touch. Trapped in the middle of such a glorious place can be deceivingly beautiful and tempting to normality. I crave what lies in my brain as much as it seems to need me. It’s symbiotic in the purity and the insanity of it. I love it unabashedly and hope that someday I can finally show the world my body resides in the worlds inside my mind. 
“Just me being me”
Rio Martin