Centre of the Earth

I ran into the forest. The wind plays with the trees, tickling the leaves into falling. My feet squelch into the soft, wet mud as I run. In and out my foot goes, breathing into the earth. I can see the tree roots lingering just above the surface, probing.

I begin to dig. I’m digging until I get to China.

The deeper the hole is the more the roots groan out to the open air, missing the comfort and solace of the dense, compact earth, the damp coolness of the soil. The wind finds itself bouncing off all corners of this hole, looking for new friends to play with. The roots groan and retreat further back to other parts of the soil. I dig deeper and deeper until I reach the inner core of the earth.

There he is.

He sits on a plain, wooden stool staring into the centre. A looking glass of pure magma.

“You’re finally here”. He doesn’t bother to swivel around. He knows who I am.

“I’m trying to get to China”.

“You’re about half way there”.

“Oh? I suppose this is the centre of the earth”.

“Would you care to sit?” Another wooden stool materialises out of thin air beside him. He didn’t need to wait to hear my response. I sit beside the careworn old man.

“Look at this my son, before you continue your journey”.

I stared intently into the looking glass. Images began to appear. Simultaneously the past, present and future are all played out at once before me. The whole world and multiple others. People of many races and many species busy in their minds, in their lives. In under a minute I was exhausted, as if years had been torn off me.

“Have you had enough?”

“Yes, sir”.

“Be on your way, know that I am always looking out for you, son. Always” He said without looking at me. I felt it his hand on my shoulder.

I continued the dig. As I emerged the wind was nowhere to be found. The trees were quiet. I walked out of the forest in search of people.

Realm of the Dead

I found myself suddenly on a bridge. I stood there for just a moment. Taking in the atmosphere. I was standing on a bridge in the middle of a lake. The air tastes like early morning. I couldn’t see the end of the bridge, both ends were shrouded in fog. As I looked out to the lake I could see some large ripples appearing, moving fast towards me.

As the ripples came closer I could make out a large, shapely body beneath the water. The creature beneath the water suddenly launched its large body unto the rails, balancing precariously with its huge weight. It looked at me thoughtfully for one moment, came to a decision, then hopped onto the pavement right in front of me, shaking the bridge slightly.

“Tell me about yourself.” The creature bubbled, its flippers motioning as he spoke.

“I’m not sure there’s much to tell.”

“Nonsense” Its words gargled, forming foam from its mouth that slipped off its giant tusks.

“Am I dead.”

“Yes you are. Soon your heart will be weighed and judged.”

“Who are you then?”

“I guide the dead.” The huge creature posed it’s body upwards, stretching out its flippers.

“Why are you a walrus?”

“I don’t know. Why are you a human?”

“That’s actually a good point.”

“There you go.”

 

We watched the lake together. Time stood still. Does time even flow in a place like this? I heard a gargling of water come from the walrus as he began to speak again.

“So, who are you then?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Recent Activity~

I’m really happy to be posting again and writing. I haven’t writen any poetry for quite a few months now. It’s an odd sensation. For me creativity and inspiration comes in waves. Just like moods, and different ways of thinking. It can be really productive but also quite scary as to how fast and how much I can change, it takes a while for me to get my footing again, but I really feel like I’m starting to control this a bit better as I get older. Is that a good thing?

Lots of things have been going on for me over the past few months. I’ve fufilled my dream of owning an adventure bike. I’m yet to use it to its full capabilities! But I’ve been on quite a few day trips and over just a month I’ve done 1546 miles (2488 kilometres). I’m very much addicted to riding this beast of a bike. I got a brand new NC750X Honda imported straight from the land of the rising sun, Japan. Which blew me over the moon, being a Japanophile.

I’ve been thinking about this blog often, what I should do with it, should I solely write in poetry or should I use it just to write and post content on my “exploits”. Recently I’ve even purchased a helmet camera to catch some footage of the places I travel to. Catching a first person perspective of myself riding a motorbike is beyond bizzare but incredible. I’d like the idea of making motorbike riding music videos or just mini documentaries of places I visit, just having chats. Unfortunately the first video I’ve put on youtube, I’ve mounted the camera way to forward so there’s a frustrating angle to deal with. I’ve fixed it now but it is very annoying, haha. I suppose you learn as you go.

Many times I’ve been thinking, how should I express myself, how can I reach to people, how can I be seen or heard. I think a lot of us think the same thing. How we want to be known. Music, photography, video, painting, drawing, poetry, singing. All these things we do to be seen or heard. To be pondered on, on our unique point of view as a human being, our intellect and our minds.

I think I will just use this blog to post what I feel strongly about and write poetry as I always love to.

Anyhow, it’s nice to write, and it’s nice to be back.

Hope you’re all doing well!

If you’re interested in some of the videos I’ve made and will be making, then check out the link below:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCH8u8kQSphPcXFX_PNml8vw

me and dad 3

Late Night Aspirations

Idea after idea

The golds flowing down the canals in my brain

Through the cracks and turns

Screaming hot, but flowing

Wincing but I guess it feels good

Until its rivers dry up

Then the pain grips me

The steam bursts through the geysers in my head

With it, all my ideas

Just stinging dryness

Until I wait for the next river of gold

Sailing

Life doesn’t change

The same patterns

The dull pleasures

Debts and feelings

Knocking weakly at the door

Of my thoughts

I try to escape my functions

 

Unshackling my ideas

Letting them sink to the riverbed

I let myself drift

Down a dimly lit stream

On a starless night

Watching people from the shore

Illuminated by distorted light

Chatting, making noise and beliefs

Never joining them

Sailing ever-on, never-ending

Wihout a single thought

Or bitter feeling