Saturday, August 29, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
The Ballad of The Little Prince: short fiction
The Ballad of The Little Prince
His body hung their, dangling from the rafters; dead weight, quite literally. Hours later, when his mother would find him, his skin would be ashen and cold; but now it still had some colour in it. As if he was still alive, as if this little prince still had shooting stars to ride; but he wasn’t. This little prince, this prince named Nicky Powell was dead and gone. He was gone in a flash, gone how he came, in bluster and then a calm. His life had been short but powerful, like a late August hailstorm that no one forgets. Tall tales will be told; hyperbole will be left in its wake. People will talk of hail the size of melons and be certain theirs memories are true. But for one woman, his mother, these stories will be nothing more than what they are; justifications and misrememberences of her baby boy, gone too soon, gone for good.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Rain an Fog: a poem
Rain an Fog
by Brian James Spies
She looked me up
And I put her down
All the while she kept comin round
She said; I was her salvation, her spiritual lost an found
The worlds a stage and as much it goes round
her life and mine are gonna be bound in chains of gold and a diamond cage
No matter the season the weather in't gonna change
Rain and Fog
Rain and Fog
Rain and Fog an Shadows is all I's gonna see
For I'm bound to her as she's bound to me