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?”







Becoming a Politician

A man sits by the harbour

With a cap full of coins

He’s not sure how it happened


He was talking out loud in town

To passersby

Speaking strongly of the current political situation

Ruining Britain

And how we should solve these issues

He had fair points

Solid plans

But no one would listen

Walking right by without a glance


Someone told him to dance

While giving his speech

To liven things up a bit

And so he did, he had a jig

Whilst starting his speech over again

He looked like a fool, an idiot

He looked hilarious

People stopped and laughed, and listened

The money came flowing

The coins rolled in his cap that lay at his feet

They signed his petitions

In return for the man signing their shirts

They wanted his photograph

And he gave it all to them

In return for something

Worth a lot more

A signature


Meeting My Reflection

I used to walk

To a local pond every day

Sit on a bench

And stare at my reflection

It would stare back at me

We wouldn’t say a word

Then we’d both make our seperate ways home

One day I got bored

So, I picked up a pebble

And threw it right at his forehead

But the little blighter threw one right back at me!

Skeleton on a Dune Buggy

Driving a dune buggy across the desert

There’s a sandstorm ahead

I drive right through it

The sand bites at my skin

Waging war

I don’t mind so much about losing

So I let the sand win

It takes my flesh away

Beating it into the ground

Burying it

Into the shifting dunes


An Arabic guitar

Plays off in the distance

I drive towards the sound

Like a moth to a flame

I drift to a halt

He seems rather shocked to see me

“Shouldn’t you wrap up? it’s awfully cold”

I guess I can’t feel it in my bones