Month: April 2015

My Poem ‘Complexion’

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

With every step you take through nature,
with every minute in the sun,
with your eyes you can see
phenomenal, beautiful, fantastic,
incredible features,
with your ears you can hear
the rhythm and the natural music of life,
of which you could only previously recall but a fraction,
and your memory can only be a reflection.

The feeling of the sun on your skin;
the shape and the colour of every flower;
the aroma that is a mixture
between that of cut grass
and the most intoxicating perfume;
the time that can seem like a blissful eternity
that in reality is like a magical glass globe
of a world in which the blossom from the trees
floats and is carried by the wind
within a matter of hours –
on a sunny spring day
there is only one song and one sensation
you want to replay and replay.

The world would not be the same without us,
and we would not be the same without the world;
just as the molecules of our bodies
are bound tightly together to make us in a certain way,
just as our genetic traits slowly become noticeable
throughout our lives and will always be present in our DNA,
humanity is like a mixture of chemicals in a test-tube
and Earth is where the reaction happens
and can be observed in the galactic laboratory
that is always making and remaking
the definition of life’s mould.

There are skies of red;
there are seas of white;
there are stories never to be known or read;
there are birds that will never take flight;
life is no accident,
but it is an ongoing experiment;
things that were thought lost forever can return;
beauty can be different from person to person,
and can have different meanings
in different places on the same planet;
ice is cold, but it can also burn;
eternity can be an unimaginably cruel gift to some,
to live forever would be the most unnatural thing
to have to endure –
because every living thing lives and dies
so that all life can carry on;
change is fundamental in welcoming
the arrival of the future;
everyone must be both a balance
of different and the same;
to see the universal differences
there must be a spectrum;
everybody has an instinct about things
that can’t be easily explained;
biological life has its own natural colour
that is truly a miracle to behold
and to watch it as it defies explanation
every time while showing the simplicity
and in the same instant the complexity
of the infinite and the multi-dimensional
complexion of the universe.

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My Poem ‘Journey’s Friend’

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Journeys are more memorable when shared;
journeys are more meaningful
when they are unexpected;
journeys are more special
when you care about every moment
that you are somewhere;
journeys are more fantastic
when you do something epic and amazing
with a friend.

A journey does not have to take place
in a fantasy world for it to be thought of
as magical;
a journey to somewhere,
a journey to something,
can take an hour, or even a lifetime,
and can be just as profound
as watching a new star being born,
which irrevocably changes
the features of the face
of the night-sky forever;
a journey that gives you a gift
every minute and every step along the way
is one that is truly inspirational;
a journey that takes you far and wide
but also close and deep in the same breath
is a miracle in every sense of the word
beyond measure.

A companion to lean on;
a mate to understand you
and pull you through the twilight nights;
a partner you can always count on;
a sidekick to have adventures with;
an ally and a buddy beyond any doubt;
a Butch to your Sundance
you would want by your side if, when, where
you had to make the decision
to jump off a cliff.

A reader of your stories;
someone who you would walk into a burning building for;
a comrade who is one of the best things in your life
who sees the world in the same way that you see it;
a familiar face, who you wish
was always standing at your front door;
someone who you have an unbreakable bond with
that will still be there and strong, even after death;
the best person you know
who is always there for you,
because they are, as you are,
your journey’s friend.

My Poem ‘One of those days’

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Today is one of those days
when wherever you look
the sun is in your eyes;
today is one of those days
when you want to walk
barefoot in the park
on the soft green grass;
today is one of those days
when nature comes alive for everyone
and anybody can bask
in the beauty of the world;
today is one of those days
when things happen that are beyond words;
today is one of those days
when people are having picnics;
today is one of those days
when the colours of the flowers
and the intense blue of the sky
glows as if they were exemplifying
the meaning of nature;
today is one of those days
that is perfect for a scoop or two of ice-cream;
today is one of those days
when children feel in their element;
today is one of those days
which feels like it is a dream;
today is one of those days
which feels like a constant banquet
to all your senses;
today is one of those days when everyone
should be outside in the sun;
today is one of those days
that is perfect for having all kinds of fun;
today is one of those days
when you can sit down and write,
paint, read, and listen to the world
and feel content;
today is one of those days
that is meant to be shared
because it is one of those days
that reminds everybody what is truly important;
today is one of those days
when I look around and I remember
memories of similar days
that looked as beautiful as today;
today is one of those days
which are precious to me in so many ways;
today is one of those days
when I feel intoxicated
by the energy of the sun’s rays;
today is one of those days…

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My Poem ‘Holographic’

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Beyond what you see,
further than the horizon,
above the clouds,
above the trees,
in the art at the heart of the universe,
in the colours of the galaxy
that can only be seen from Earth with a telescope,
there is layer upon layer of light and colour –
particles of dust, laboratories of gas,
cocktails of elements,
when observed from a particular vantage-point
come together to make a picture
that is a piece of art
that has been millions of years in the making
that will slowly change over time
and evolve to be something else,
just as everything else must
that is connected to nature.

The things we see can sometimes be an illusion –
a hologram, a figment and a combination
of our vision and our imagination,
as well as our emotions,
and if you were to see the same thing
from a reversed-angle, looking back,
you would see a completely different picture
with radically different connotations.

Many things can be a trigger for great creativity;
many experiences can be spectacles
that can inspire great art;
many things must first happen in a poets life
for them to write epic poetry;
many life-changing infernos began burning
because of a well-time spark.

A face is always but a mask;
a book cover is but an entrance below
to a trove of treasure;
every planet with life
is a pearl of infinite complexity
in an ocean of dark;
a name is but a teaser
to something greater and deeper.

A library is a hive alive
with story-lovers, and story-tellers;
an art gallery is where those who
want to appreciate art and visual poetry
can go to be awestruck by a kindred spirit
that lived perhaps centuries before they were born;
everything has a story to it,
everyone has had to be a part of a journey
that may at times have been unpredictable and frenetic;
a market of any type is the best place
to see a snap-shot of an echo of something
that is primordially interstellar;
new artists rise with every new dawn;
everything that you catch with your eyes
is a layer of space and time
that exists in a universe
that when seen for all its components and projections
is fundamentally holographic.

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My Poem ‘Birthmark’

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

34 years, 408 months,
1,774 weeks, 12,418 days ago,
on the 21st of April, 1981,
a little boy was born
and two of the most wonderful
and amazing parents
anyone could ask for
were blessed with a son –
that was the day
that I arrived in the world,
and that was when the tapestry of my life
slowly began to unfurl.

Mark James Hastings,
that is the name that I was given at birth
and that is who I have been
since it was printed for all time
on my birth certificate;
son, brother, friend,
wanderer, wonderer,
dreamer, hard-worker,
and 99.9 percent of the time
a lover of life and a writer
in the form of a poet.

People are always telling me
that I don’t look my age;
people are always asking me
what my secret is to having
an old soul inside someone
with such a young face;
people ask me all the time
where I get my ideas from
when I am writing,
and my response to that question
is one word: life –
because that is the epic adventure
that is eternally and limitlessly
exciting, enlightening, and inspiring.

I have flashes of memories of my childhood
that regularly come back to me;
I have emotions of experiences from my life
that daily make me smile and make me cry;
I have mental and physical photos
that I look at with glee;
I have questions that I ask
that begin who…? what…? where…?
when…? how…? why…?
But I will always know and remember
what is important and I will continue
to spread the word about what I have learned
in my life, and sometimes I secretly wish
that I could replay certain special moments
that I have had, even though I know
life is meant to be so that I can’t.

Today is my birthday;
today is a day that is close to my heart;
today is a day when I have so much to say;
today is always the day when I think back
and I talk to my younger self,
and even at the moment that I am born
I visualize myself in the mind
of my infant-self and I leave myself
a message and a question that has no end
that I know I will carry my whole life –
like a defining and indelible birthmark.

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My Poem ‘The Art Complex’

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

There is nothing more inspiring than art;
there is no one more interesting than an artist;
discovering new art is the best part of any day
and when I do I am always touched deep in my heart;
to me art is magic –
and right this second there is so much art in the world
it is beyond the dreams of any dreamer,
and it has to be seen to be believed
and must not be missed.

Art is on every city street corner;
art can be seen in the sky;
art can be seen on doors;
art is being created spontaneously every minute,
and the true gift of art
is that it not only is an expression of spirit
but it is also being painted on a canvas
that is as deep as a black-hole
and also infinitely wide.

I believe that we are in an artistic renaissance
filled with music, portraits, paintings,
literature, poetry, creativity
on so many levels of complexity –
the rhythm is so encompassing and phenomenal,
art inspires more art,
and artists are like the choreographers
of a profoundly beautiful and moving dance.

I wake up every morning
and art is the first thing that I see;
I open my eyes every day
and I see new life in the new light;
I open my mind as I open the curtains
and I see the most awe-inspiring masterpiece
right in front of me;
I imagine something I have never thought of before
and my imagination and I are away
climbing higher and higher by the second
faster than a kite.

Watching an artist create art,
even for a fellow artist,
is powerful and inspiring;
watching a blank page or a white canvas
slowly transform into a piece of art
is incredibly amazing;
seeing inspiration come to life
by the hand of an artist
and watch their vision evolve
from being something ethereal
to something tangible is breath-taking;
witnessing the reveal of an artists poetic license
is truly fascinating, inspiring, and enlightening.

Art is words, colours, light, dark;
art is natural, meaningful,
life-changing, emotional;
art is epic, magnetic, and an artists body
and mind is never at rest;
art is never untouchable –
it always has a reason to be,
and it is always preceded by a spark;
art is reveling in the freedom of your birthright,
and focusing on attaining a never-ending goal;
artists of their time are avatars
of the world they live in which they are inspired by,
and every artist knows that no matter
how simple something appears
in actuality everything is a work of art
and is a story that is substantially
and markedly complex.

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My Poem ‘For the record’

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Like the Earth orbiting the sun;
like the solar system
spinning around the core of the galaxy;
like the sounds that can be heard
while listening to the noise
of the interstellar background;
like the racing heart beat
of somebody out on a run;
like the natural soundtrack of life
that you can hear and feel
which you can imagine with great detail
without needing to see it;
like the sound of waves crashing on a beach;
when you listen to the music
that sings to your soul
and inhabits your heart
that has been recorded
in the most exquisite quality possible –
in memory, on CD, on vinyl,
the spirit of the music, the artist,
the magic and the depth of the human mind
and body gives you back every time
something you wait with anticipation
to be found so that it may
again and again resound
and make you feel as if
your feet have left the ground.

People love music;
music is so adored and worshiped
it is like a religion;
music can inspire people to be
and to do anything:
to be brave, to be thoughtful,
to be artistic, to be prolific;
everyone knows what their favourite song
or piece of music is,
and everybody has a personal
and a profound reason for why
their song is their song.

Music has been a part of our lives
since we were born;
albums and artists have been talking to us
and taking us to our dreams
since we heard our first old-favourite;
music is at the centre of our universe
that rotates just as fast
as the grooves of a vinyl album on a turntable;
listening to music is always a blessing,
and never a chore;
there is so much music that has been created
that is epic and great;
music is a gateway to an astoundingly-beautiful
and magical world.

Music is the eternal and universal love
that everybody and anybody can enjoy
and be blessed with their entire lives;
music is what we all share
an invisible connection to
and are attached to every second
by an unbreakable umbilical-cord;
music is the abundant source of energy
that makes life what it is,
just as much as the sun’s light;
music is the single most important,
meaningful and memorable thing
that the human race will be remembered for
by future generations and fellow space-travelers –
and all we do will live on forever
as our greatest monument of ourselves
for the record.

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My Poem ‘Breakthrough’

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Everything at the beginning is hard
and it can take some time
to find your feet before you can walk;
everything new is a learning process
and you can easily erase your early mistakes
and dismiss them as being imperfect
but important first steps,
as if they were chalk drawings
on a blackboard or a side-walk;
things at the start can take a while to master,
but when that thing that you were missing
the entire time clicks into place
like an integral puzzle-piece
what you are doing makes much more sense,
and every time you repeat the same act
you get better and better –
not to mention faster and faster.

Breaking a barrier;
crossing a threshold;
walking a wire;
deciding to be decisive and bold;
doing something you have always wanted to do;
facing a fear; learning something you never knew;
making something clear;
everyone has a moment of realization
and decides to take a leap
into a defining life-changing decision.

When you have been stuck
in one place for a long time,
and the only direction
you think you have been going in at all is back,
when you really want to go forward
to something new that will make you happy,
even though you think you know what you want
it can be hard to know what you should do,
when you have an opportunity
to take a chance but you have to act fast,
if you have a goal and a perfect ending in your mind
and you believe with all your heart,
and you do all that you know you can do,
I guarantee you that there will come a moment
when you will have a breakthrough.

My Poem ‘Artistscope’

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

When you have a gift
you need to show it;
when you have a natural talent
you need to share it;
when you have a personality
that is wonderful and magnetic
you need to let your light shine;
when you look at life
and you are instantly attracted
to its amazing wonders,
especially if you are an artist,
then you need to capture
those miracles of the world
and of your imagination
and give them everlasting life.

Artists are the most amazing,
phenomenal, sensitive, wonderful
and expressive people you will ever meet,
and every time I make a connection
with a fellow artist I become inspired
just by seeing, sensing,
and touching their spirit;
some people understand art,
and some people don’t –
but one of the most incredible gifts
of an artist is their exceptional power
to distinctively emote;
there are artists living
on every continent on Earth,
and every one has their own
unique style and way
of expressing themselves through their art,
and every artist’s art is always influenced
and infused by what surrounds them
and the studio that is also their home.

You can watch an artist
make art wherever you are;
you can see the passion, the love,
the heart of an artist who creates
masterpieces one after another,
like the awesome LA artist Amanda Oleander,
thousands of miles away
thanks to the instantaneous technology
of the 21st century;
you can be witness to an immersive,
profound and defining moment for you
and for an artist and give them a part of you
and be with them in spirit
every second of every day of the week –
from Monday to Sunday.

Art is not bound by time,
nor are it’s artists;
art is happening 24-hours a day,
7 days a week, 365 days a year,
and art in so many of its forms
can make you smile, inspire your dreams,
make you feel something you have never felt,
and it can bring you to tears.
I feel blessed to have known
and to have met artists from all walks of life,
from all around the world,
who truly inspire me every day
with the amazing things that they were born to do;
I look to my fellow artists
when I want to see and feel empowered with hope;
art can and will always change the world,
and if you are not an artist
and you want to bring the most spectacular
rainbow of colour into your life
seek out an artist and prepare to be amazed
and awestruck by what you see
when you look through their artistic periscope.

My Poem ‘Heavy’

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

My eyes are heavy;
the time is getting late;
I have just enough inspiration
and energy to write something poetic;
I feel like I am going to be
‘out like a light’ any minute now –
but before I do drift off to sleep
like a boat down a river,
I wanted to write something
about life, dreams, and as always
something about me.

I come to everything
with an open mind
and an open heart;
I face everything
expecting a hopeful and optimistic resolution;
I always get up strong after I have fallen hard;
I keep going no matter what,
because that is my everlasting constitution.

Life, the world, people, fascinate me
and amaze me every day –
I learn something new about something
and someone daily;
one thing that I have learned
is that there is no telling
as you live your life
who you are going to meet
and talk to along the way;
one motto to live by
that I have always liked,
which is also the motto
of the U.S. state of New Hampshire,
is to “Live Free or Die” –
and if that motto could sum up a particular person,
it would have to be me.

I love to talk;
I love to share;
I love to walk;
I love to dare.
The freedom to be who I want to be
means more to me than anything,
and I think that most people take their freedom
to do, to love, to buy,
to express, to have whatever they want for granted –
but I don’t and I never will,
because at any moment anything could happen,
and taking an actual account of what you say
to me is very important.

Words are a promise;
words are a declaration;
words are indelible to some people;
words cannot say everything,
but that does not stop them
from being and sounding magical.
I have loved words since I first earned to read;
I have taken people for their word,
and I have unfortunately on occasion been led astray;
I think about words when I dream at night in bed;
I am always listening and remembering
the words that came out of peoples mouths,
even if they don’t themselves –
a single sentence has repeatedly
been read and recited over and over again
by me in the past for days after days.

I am about to fall asleep,
I can feel a wave of fatigue cover me like a duvet;
I am about to be carried away, and sink beneath;
I can’t remember all that I was going to write
and what I was going to say –
however, I don’t think that it matters:
I think and I believe that the simple act of writing,
thinking, remembering, and dreaming
is enough justification, if there needed to be one,
for me to be who I am, doing what what I am doing;
and if there is to be one last thought
that could become a monument of today
it would have to be this poem –
a piece of me, a method of madness,
a beating heart, which is also the source
of all joy and sadness –
which for me is always heavy.