I’m back..

Hey guys. It feels like a lifetime I’ve been gone for but it’s only been a few measly weeks. But those few measly weeks have changed me so much. They’ve completely changed my life’s direction. Writing on the road was difficult. To me, writing is just another medium, y’know? I took to singing a lot. I sang everywhere I went on my motorbike, coming up with the lyrics was like writing to poetry to me and I got just as much release as I would sitting in my room, writing away.

I broke up with my long term girlfriend. I know what you’re thinking. I probably met some girls along the road. Sure, there were many temptations and that’s one of the reasons I split up with her. I feel like I can’t keep missing out on these experiences. I reached John O’ Groats and it became more and more apparent to me I need to do my own thing. I need to travel without being chained down. I need to experience other people. It was such a hard thing to finally accept. But y’know what, I am 50% of the relationship too and if I’m not happy and feel like I’m not growing, then I need to grow some balls and tell her the truth.

So that has been a major change in my life.

Another one is that I’ve finally found somewhere I’d love to move to. Glasgow! Beautiful city, love the Scots and there’s literally a tonne of surrounding nature if the city life gets too much for me.

Being on the road every day was addictive. I met so many people. I had so many genuine chats. Mostly drunken ones. But aren’t we all more honest when we’re drunk or high? There’s no holding back, no barriers stopping us. What a world we’d all live in if we were all drunk.

I learnt so much about my best friend too. We were never apart the entire two weeks. I feel like right now he should be right behind me suggesting where we should eat next or which girl takes he’s into. It’s helped us grow together as friends.

So right now I feel incredibly lonely, I feel like I’ve still got itchy feet. I need to move about, I need to write, I need to express. I suppose it’s also dealing with going back to work tomorrow too. I can just feel it looming over me. I suppose with life it’s all give and take, right?

Hope you’ve all been well. I know it’s a bit raw all this, but I like to be honest and human and I’m sure you guys can appreciate that. Hope you enjoy the pics too!

Europe tour happening next year for sure after I upgrade the bike. I will miss the trusty little ped.

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Just a little, small annoucement to make

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Hi to all those staying and those just passing by. I have a small annoucement to make! I’m not one for doing these and it feels corny doing so. But, here we are.

In about a week and a bit I’m off on a tour around the UK on my trusty ped. I’m going all over the place, leaving for about two weeks. Honestly, it’s a much needed break from work and miserable but safe routine.

Now I love travelling, I love seeing different places, it gives me quite a rush. Being on the move is certainly something. I’m sure this makes me sound just like one of the those “I love travelling, it’s my life!” But it’s true! We all need it once in a while to break out of our comfort zones, to see how others live, to learn and grow. It’s the biggest inspiration anyone can have.

So yes. I’m going all the way from the southern tip of England in Devon, right the way to the furthermost part of Scotland, John O’ Groats. Then hopefully coming back to Cornwall to reach lands end, where I’ve been before. I’m really hoping my ped doesn’t die on me or I die on my ped. So I hope you wish us both luck!

Now I know what you’re thinking. Why are you writing about all this on a poetry/writing blog. Well of course, this is gonna effect my writing ever so slightly! Which is why all of my posts over the two weeks while I’m gone will be scheduled. I may have internet where I’m going, I may not. Only time will tell. So communication on my blog might be fairly limited. But please know that I’m having a whale of a time and hope you are all well.

Another small announcement:

I am actually working on a novel right now which I hope some of you may be interested in. Obviously it’s quite far-fetched that it may grab even the smallest of attention but I felt it worth saying and I hope you look forward to it! It’s great fun to write and hopefully great fun to read. Will post further updates as it progresses!

Yet another small, tiny annoucement

I would just like to say thank you to all those following my work and hanging around still! Really appreciate ya, truly am flabbergasted that people enjoy my writing, I’m continually amazed.

A Very Short Story

The words of the email began mulling around in my brain. There’s never much going on there anyhow so they don’t colide with much. Just bouncing on the walls of my skull. Echoes in the empty chamber. “We regret to inform you but due to budget reasons, we will have to end your contract. If you have any disagreements or anything you would like to say or if you would like to take this further as a tribunal please contact us with the number present in this email. We’d like to thank you for your service over these many years! Please deliver your work uniform to the present address in this email. You will be reimbursed for delivery costs. Cheers.”

So that was it. After twenty one years of working it’s come to this. All those hours I put in. All that overtime I took. All that commitment. All those managers I kissed up to. The occasions I missed to get promotions. Should I say “attempt to get” rather.

I suppose that’s it. Not much else I can do now really. I wonder how things are looking in the pension pot?

Becoming a Man

“I hate the way it feels.” “The way what feels, Jamie?” Asked his mother, putting her book down. “The way my limbs feel just awkwardly laying about. I just can’t rest them. Do you ever get that feeling? When everything is just uncomfortable.” “I can’t say I do Jamie, I don’t often have time to think about anything I’m feeling, I’m so busy, as you know.” “Busy with what? All you ever do is watch over me and read.” The mother sighed. “Can we not just have a conversation?” “I know exactly where this will lead Jamie, and I will most certainly not speak of it again. Now you sit there, and be a good boy.” “Mother, I am twenty tomorrow, do you not see how patronising you sound?” “But you are just a boy, Jamie, nothing more. You do nothing, you do not work, you do not study, you sit there, complaining, and you call it conversation.” “I just want someone to talk to, mother, that’s all.” “Talk to me when you’re a man, Jamie, then I may listen.”

And so, Jamie took it upon himself to learn to be a man. He put himself to work, for money he certainly did not need and know how to spend. He gave half his wages to his mother, who refused to talk. Months passed, work grew grimmer and dimmer, the money kept coming in, yet he still didn’t know what to do with it. The pile grew and grew, the sparkle of gold certainly caught the eye of some young ladies. Eventually they would come knocking, coming to teach Jamie how to spend his money. Makeup, perfume, holidays and restaurants, they came and went, until the pile diminished and they lost interest. Until one lady came knocking even though there was no pile. Jamie, enthralled, moved out immediately, shadowing the great figure of the lady who took a chance on him. She managed him, rationed to him, washed him, pleasured him, until he became a man. He hates the way it feels. But his mother talks to him now.

 

The Man, the Field and the Porridge Oats.

I don’t know how we ended up in this place. My memory doesn’t allow me to remember. We walk up and down this field many times each day. Those that escape through the hedged borders of this field only return solemn faced. Never again meeting anothers eye. There is an electric power line running through the centre of the field. Standing tall and defiant. Outside of the man’s reach. Some try to climb to the top but they never come back down again. The clouds forbid us to see.

No matter how hard we try, we simply cannot talk to eachother. The words do not form in our mouths. It’s been so long since another has graced my ears with conversation. All we do is endlessly walk up and down this field for a reason I cannot fathom. Every week the man will come in a range rover through the gate and unload a mound of porridge oats. This is our excitement. I’m too hungry to question what’s in the porridge oats. We scramble over each other in a frenzied race to reach the pile. shoving as many handfuls of porridge oats down our throats as we can manage.

He will observe us for quite some time while we eat. Removing those that begin to form words with their mouths. Those that learn to stand upright from all fours. Those that begin to question the porridge oats. Those that are simply unhealthy, no longer providing whatever it is the man needs.

While I chew my porridge oats I look up to the powerline. The clouds have dispersed. I can see them clearly. I stand upright and gaze above me. I hear laughter and conversation. They’re forming words! The man in the range rover cannot reach them so they are happy. Yet they can’t eat. Soon they will have to come down and share the same fate all of us are bound to. I quickly fall down to all fours. Every day more and more join us.

I don’t know what will happen in the future.

 

 

Photography: The Ruins of Berry Pomeroy Castle

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It was a cloudy, rainy miserable day when me and my friend decided to go for a motorcycle journey. It had been years since I’ve been to this place. Whenever you mention the name Berry Pomeroy to a native in Torbay they’ll always tell you of ghosts that walk the ramparts. Lords and ladies that were murdered, Patrolling soldiers and everyday working men and women all spotted throughout the day and night by visitors and tourists.

I for one found the Ruins of Berry Pomeroy stunning, in an old gothic way. I attempted to catch the beauty of the castle itself and the nature surrounding it. There is a pathway leading to a moat nearby, bustling with nature. Bird calls that were completely unfamiliar to me sounding like car alarms.

I hope you’ve enjoyed these pictures.

If you’re interested in the history of Berry Pomeroy Castle check out this link from English Heritage:

http://www.english-heritage.org.uk/visit/places/berry-pomeroy-castle/history/

If you’re more interested in ghost stories:

http://totallyhaunted.co.uk/berry-pomeroy-castle.php

http://www.hiddenrealms.org.uk/berrypomeroy.html