What would it feel like, any fun, to live to be one hundred My imagination tells me it would be less fun more dread With luck, still shuffling around, able to pee upon my shoes Not rolled about like deadwood by someone I don’t choose Perhaps I will be non compos mentis and it will […]
Imagine, how do we tell our own love story Do we believe love exists in a state of grace Fear it will be a stroll along life’s razor edge A plunge into the deep, head first, eyes closed Do we make our dive unsure if we can swim Will love’s buoyancy help float us on […]
Chapter Three The light proved more forgiving the next time Toliver awoke, and the pain in his head was merely a dull, persistent throb. He felt somehow younger, stronger with the sense of an idea or revelation on the tip of his mind. Whatever it was, he lost it quickly. He found himself strapped to […]
One more bullet shot from one more gun You’re sure this must be the very last one Yet, once more death and once more pain And you know it will start all start again One more bomb falls from one more sky Is there really a reason for us to ask why One more terrorist […]
After a couple of weeks of my new Serial Tuesday, I’ve decided that alternating sories there will be too confusing, as well as not providing me the proper motivation. So today I begin Serial Friday with the opening pages of Arcadian Journey Please feel free to offer any comment on either piece. Prologue Two jumpships […]
Oh please let us have just one more child We promise to raise them meek and mild Never mind the children we will conceal Who will have to learn to cheat and steal Population worry is only for the poorest We are the richest, so all should adore us Population worry must haunt the richest […]
Chapter Two Darkness, blacker and denser than the heart of a black hole enveloped Toliver. He thought he blinked his eyes, but there was no reference, no way to compare. He could not feel his body below his neck, but his mouth felt stuffed with worms. Part of him thought he should gag, but it […]
One early morning on Tuesday last week I told you of the future, but did not speak I said I would write these words just now Although, I in no way explained just how Still, I imagined I would be able conceive Some mysterious way to make you believe I could not, cannot express this […]
Toliver by Philip Brent Harris Introduction In the shantyghetto of Mudfog can be found a broad array of those lowest on the social ladder; a rickety affair with many rotten and broken rungs. For all that, these are just people like people everywhere. They love, argue, dream and often fail, like you or I […]
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