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One of my short stories on

Check out my short story “Out Where the Buses Don’t Run Anymore” on  It’s free!  Here’s da’ link:


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I just watched this documentary about elephants and…

So I just watched this documentary about elephants and it really made me wonder about the whole ‘do animals have souls’ debate.  Elephants essentially have funerals or viewings for their dead – they all line up and walk by the dead body one by one in a procession, yet many would argue that this is just some sort of instinctual thing.  But if it’s instinctual to mourn, then you might say that we’re just animals and nothing more; am I right?  I don’t know that animals have souls exactly like humans, but to say that they’re solely beasts of instinct seems like a stretch.  Thoughts?

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An Enlightening Lie About the Lucidity of Bees

So the story I just finished and published to (search for “Ian Kraft”) is called “An Enlightening Lie About the Lucidity of Bees” and it is about the religions of the world, trying to understand how it is that we believe that God only gave one message that could redeem mankind whilst leaving countless other civilizations to be left out in the cold for centuries during which they couldn’t have known Christianity.  I myself am a Christian and believe what I believe very strongly, but I still have a hard time swallowing the ‘everyone else is going straight to hell’ pill.  This story is a search for answers that may be beyond  us to find.

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Check out my completed novels at!

So over the past year or so, I’ve written about five novel-length works of fiction that I’ve published on  They’re available for pretty much all ereader devices (Kindle, iPhone, iPad, Nook, etcetera) – check it out!  Here’s the link!

Ian the Bein’

AKA John of Origin

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A Poem – “A Hero’s Arrival”

A Hero’s Arrival


Pit me as having made landfall

Upon ground that isn’t mine.

I don’t feel at home, don’t get it

Heroes don’t fight with weapons or words.

It’s like a flower, splitting the soil,

Like a turtle, leaving it’s shell

It comes through and exists plainly

Because that’s what it was supposed to be.

But now, now that we need blossoms,

Heroes are stifled, have to create anew

Because rationalism will tell them they’re limited

There are limits to life and heroes sense them too.

Comic books can’t be their reality—

Not the true heroes of this world.

Heroes love with a patch of dirt

Crusted to their shoulders like dried syrup.

And the love falls off as they stretch their skin

And we feel it because we were waiting

Waiting to feel that very dirt—

Just dirt, but refreshing because it’s everyone’s.

But the heroes can never stand out through set routes,

Can never show the world their love

Using means of doing so that already exist;

Not exactly anyway—they have to bring something,

Something like a frozen stone,

Bring it and then show the world that a fire can be put out

With nothing but a rock.

Seeds have sprouted

And I hope there’s nothing in the way.


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