life

My Poem “Finale”

Mark Hastings books, life, me, Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Not every story
that you find yourself drawn into
ends in the way that you want it to…
Not every story can have that
happy ending that people wants…
Not every story can be the version
that the reader or the viewer
of a story has in their head –
because stories are both a creator’s
and audience’s medium,
and one in which there is not always
a shared instinct into how a particular story
should begin, progress, unveil itself,
and ultimately end.

Every story naturally must have a beginning
and every story naturally must have an end –
and while a writer is writing a story
the world in which they are building
and the characters they are choosing
to include within their story
can change in direction, shape,
and intention from
how they were initially envisioned…
readers and viewers of a story
usually only get to read, or to see,
the finished, polished,
and final version of a story
and they are oblivious to all
the various choices, changes,
and minutiae that had to be
considered by the stories’ author
in order to make a story, their story,
as perfect as can be.

Every story is a challenge…
every story is a journey…
every creator of every story
thinks, feels, considers,
and lives every word and every line
of the story that they set out to
make a reality and one which
people might choose to invest their time into…
every author does not take the death
of a character in one of their stories lightly
and they are fully aware of how
their story can change
and be internalized differently
depending on who is enjoying them.

Writing can sometimes be hard –
however, at the same time,
writing can be one of the best
and one of the most life-changing things
you can ever commit yourself to…
when a writer first begins building a world,
a reality, a universe, the farthest thought
from their mind is that of having to finish
what they started –
so when they arrive at the moment of having
to wrap-up a story and a journey
that has meant so much to them,
take it from me, there is never an
easy way to write a perfect
and truly satisfying finale.

My Poem “Mobile Life”

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

Every hour of every day
most people are either
thinking about their mobile phones,
they are looking are the screens
of their mobile phones,
they are interacting with their mobile phones,
or they are sharing and conversing
with other people far away
by using their mobile phones –
because most people are hooked,
addicted, and in need of being
connected to the web that encompasses
most of the world and gives
many people a reason to live,
a means to stay informed
about all manner of things
happening instantly and simultaneously
at any given moment.

Once upon a time, a telephone
was a stationary technological marvel
that allowed two people
to have a conversation with one another –
however, then the World Wide Web was born
and from that moment on people
started to interact in many different ways
and with people who they may never
have known existed before…
and then, when telephones became
more portable and more mobile,
the technology of communication
evolved again and people discovered
that not only could they communicate
with words and sounds they could also
communicate with photographs,
images, symbols and icons that reflect
what they are feeling emotionally.

Computers used to be huge,
room-sized, mechanical innovations
capable of completing calculations
so basic and so primitive by today’s standards –
however, in their day,
they were marveled at because
of what they could do and because
of the thought of what
they could evolve into in the future;
however, now, today, there is no line
to differentiate between what
a computer is and what a phone is
because when you take into account
what each can do there is nothing
that separates them –
computers can do what phones can do
and phones can do what computers can do,
meaning that the lines that one divided
technology, devices, and people
are now blurred into obscurity,
as are the borders and the distances
between countries and homes.

Everybody on Earth is living in a time
when every child born from now on
will never know of a time when
instant interconnectivity is not a fact of life –
and in the future most people
will most likely spend most of their time
interacting with one another
in a simulated reality that looks and feels
like the “real” world but in which
they feel more accepted and at home,
just like people do today in the way
that everything that they do
when it comes to interaction
and living their daily lives
centres around and is instantly
accessible by tapping away on the screen
of their mobile phones.

My Poem “Time Well Spent”

Mark Hastings life, Poetry , , , , , ,

Life is short, we all know it…
everybody only has a finite number
of days and nights to make the most
of the time that they have
on this constantly spinning
and constantly changing planet.
Life is a blessing for most people –
however, for some people born
into a world of chaos
not of their choice,
life can sometimes feel like a curse.
Nobody can stop time,
nobody can prolong a moment,
nobody can live without
being the cause of something
nor without feeling the effects
of other people’s actions.
Throughout life everybody asks questions,
everybody learns lessons,
everybody loses things,
everybody loses people,
and everybody slowly but surely
discovers that life is not simple
and there is no universal
or perfect way in which
to live your life.
Each of us are born for a reason…
each of us are a complex embodiment
of thoughts, feelings, intentions,
dispositions, who have the potential
and the gifts to be able to
make a positive and an impactful
change in the indulating
waves of life – so that one day
each and every one of us
can sit down, look back,
and consider all that we have done
and all that we have been through
to be time well spent.

My Poem “New Horizons”

Mark Hastings life, me, Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Every day, beginnings
and endings exist and play out
in parallel to one another:
on one side of the same world
one person can be looking
at the sun rising at the dawn of day,
while another can be looking up
at the moon and the stars
of the twilight hours of the night…
everybody lives in different worlds,
living different lives –
even people sitting three feet away
from one another, in the same cafe,
can be thinking, feeling, living,
and breathing in vastly different ways.

Everybody in their life has a path;
however, that does not mean
that the steps that need to be taken
in order to reach the place of potential
are always going to be straight
and easy to be traversed…
every day since the start of recorded
human history empires have fallen
and new dynasties have risen
to fill the vacuum left
when one piece of the tapestry of life
is cut away because it no longer
fits with the modern world that it exists within.

Without exception everybody,
at some point in their life,
has made multiple mistakes –
and often times everybody has to find
a way to adapt and to coexist
with the intentions, the actions,
and the waves of change caused
by people who influence the people of the world
through their words but who live
far removed and untouchable from those
whom they claim to speak for
often times from behind walls and gates
and in castles and in high-towers
which have a power-structure
that has existed for centuries
among many human societies around the world.

What is built must one day self-realize
that there will come a time
when the end is a necessary component
of reinvention, revitalization, renewal,
so that something can continue to be relevant
beyond the time of their prime –
and that goes for the people,
businesses, brands, and opinions
that have existed around the world…
every day there are new lives being born
and every instant there are new universes
coming into existence that are off-shoots
of other universes…
every moment there are things that happen,
there are things that are seen,
there are things and there are people
that change the world and open the windows
and the doors to brand new horizons.

My Poem “A Matter of Time”

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

There is a time for everything…
there is a reason for everything…
there is an answer for everything…
there is a purpose for everything,
for everyone, for the good, for the bad,
for the black, for the white,
for the left, for the right,
and there is always a fine line
between darkness and light
where both heroes and saviors
in all their forms live and breath,
where they are able to see,
hear, feel, and understand
the reason why things are
the way that they are
and why certain things
need to be what they need to be.

No two people are the same –
and that is an amazing thing…
no two stories are the same –
however every story shares
certain commonalities with one another
that bind them spiritually to one another
through a combination of degrees of separation.

No two hearts beat at the same rhythm,
no two minds are wired in the same way,
no two dreams are coloured in the same tone –
because every person is a walking, talking,
constantly communicating spirit
and a vessel that is constantly
changing and becoming something else,
somebody else, as they progress along
the path of the life, as they emit
and emanate their own light,
and as they race against time
to give reason, purpose,
and an answer to the question
of why they were born
and how the world has been effected
by their presence in it.

Life is not random –
it only appears as if it is sometimes,
because sometimes some things seen
to appear as if from out of nowhere…
poetry is life, and life is poetry…
darkness cannot exist without light –
and that is why every time I look up
to the stars of the night-sky
I am reminded that everything and everyone
is the matter of a particular place,
purpose, perspective, universe,
and the time that they find themselves within.

My Poem “Undercover”

Mark Hastings life, me, Poetry , , , , , , , , ,

Undercover, under the hood, under the skin –
whether sitting under the shine of the sun,
or at times when under the weather,
whether it is raining or sunny –
everybody is somebody else,
everybody has a secret identity,
everybody dreams, thinks,
feels, and dwells upon
the reflection of the one
who they see within themselves
when they internalise with their
inward looking eyes…
Under normal circumstances
the best way to understand
why we do what we do
and who we are would be to stop
ourselves and to scrutinise
what we truly want and desire
and to ask ourselves whether
the actions that we have taken
have been progressive or self-destructive
in order to find the bliss
that we wish we had within our grasp…
Under investigation the sins
and the crimes that we are guilty of
are clear as day –
but just because we might be guilty
of being selfish from time to time
that does not mean that heaven does not await
each and every one of us
if we seek and follow a path of redemption
and if we first forgive ourselves
for being human and fallible…
Under a microscope
a scientist may be able to discover
a lot about what makes our biology
the way that it is and how different
we are from other people
who might look similar to how we appear –
however, the truth of the matter is
that everybody is a product
and the result of an experiment
that has been ongoing
for billions of years
and characters in a story
that each of us has a version of
that we tell ourselves all the time,
that binds everybody and who
and how they see themselves
when they are looking at the world
from under a cover.

My Poem “The Best of All Dreams”

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

Life is a cycle. Paths converge every day.
Life is beautiful – even on a rainy day.
Life is more than anyone could ever perceive,
and it’s true meaning is deeper
than anyone would ever believe.
Life is a wonderful gift, and if you look
for the poetry in every moment
then you will ultimately discover
that the planet that we call Earth
has one purpose: to give all of its children –
from humans to bacteria –
a place to exist and to thrive.
Life is an enigma surrounded
by a cosmos of mystery.
Life is like what makes raindrops
sparkle like diamonds when the rays of sun
shine upon them.
I believe that Life exists
elsewhere in the universe,
and I also believe that one day
the paths of many life-forms
will intersect – and when that happens
it will be like Life has once again
divulged a timeless secret
to its varied races,
and from that moment on
Life will be lived and it will be seen
by the living like it has never been seen before,
and as if many worlds had opened
their collective eyes and realized
that Life is like heaven:
it is the best of all dreams.

My Poem “Personal Heaven”

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

Heaven is a moment of time…
Heaven is a person of love and light…
Heaven is a song of truth that
touches your heart as well as your mind…
Heaven is a source of passion and inspiration
that artists constantly mine…
Heaven is a cloud of thoughts,
impulses, memories, and observations
that combine to make an internal
ocean of infinite depths
to which anybody can dive.

Heaven can be found within the soul of a person…
Heaven can be found in the way
that a someone makes you feel…
Heaven is whatever someone considers
to be breathtaking, magical,
wonderful, and beautiful.

Heaven is often not just
what someone can feel
but what in truth cannot be touched
or put into words…
Heaven is the world within you
that you discover over the course of your life
which stays with you and which unfolds
before you when you fall off
the precipice of this life
and you start living the life
within the world of your own personal heaven.

My Poem “The Penny”

Mark Hastings life, me, Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I found a penny on the ground,
glowing metallic brown,
shining in the light of the sun,
and it was because of that
golden light from above
that brought this penny
to my attention
and made me reach down
to retrieve this symbol of luck.

Somebody’s loss, my gain,
and an opportunity
from which I never walk away,
nor ever overlook,
because I have always
believed that finding a penny
and picking it up
was a fast-track way
of receiving good fortune
for the rest of the day.

I am someone who
sees the value of something
beyond what it is monetarily worth,
and instead I like to believe
the story, the rhyme,
and the superstition
that a momentary encounter
with a copper-colored disc,
and the lowest denomination
of most of the worlds currencies,
can lead to something wonderful,
unexpected, inspiring,
and a perhaps life-changing
set of future circumstances;
however, that hope and that belief
probably comes part in parcel
with being an optimist like me
who sees a restorative glow
to most things – even those things
as small, hard to lose, and seemingly
worthless as a simple penny.

My Poem “Environmental Clock”

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

Even though our planet,
our world, our home
is called “Earth”
when seen up-close, from space,
when the light from the sun
is shining upon it,
it can be perceived as looking
green or perhaps blue in colour;
however, at night,
if looked down upon from orbit,
you could be mistaken for thinking
that our planet were emanating
its own electricity –
especially when the veil of darkness
falls upon our planet
and the human population
decides to turn on their lights.

In actuality, our world is an ocean world
that once had one single, massive,
super-continent called “Pangaea”
that was the only island of Earth
to be found, surrounded on all sides
by thousands of miles of water…
and then, a long time ago,
for reasons as yet unknown,
Pangaea broke apart and began
to slowly transform into the shapes
that we see when we look at the geography
of our planet in an atlas, on a map,
or by looking at the world
as it is presented on a man-made globe.

Our planet is a sphere –
no matter what people who believe
that the Earth is flat will tell you –
and we know it is because
when it is seen from space
the edge of its surface curves
like a ball or like a glass marble.

Our world has not always been how it is now,
and some people often take the gift
of our world for granted –
especially the way that the majority
of its environment seems perfectly suited
to our needs – and that can be witnessed
every day, even in a picturesque place
that might be someone’s exact example
of somewhere that resembles
what a person imagines as their version
of paradise, when the evidence
of humanity’s often selfish nature
can be seen in the form of the litter
and the dis-guarded things
that have found their way into
our world’s seas which float
on the surface of the ocean’s skin
like the sores of some kind
of man-made disease.

Humanity needs to protect our planet
from itself so that the small minority
who do not think or care
about the repercussions of their actions,
nor the potential future that this current
generation and the previous generation,
are leaving for the next generation
to find a way to clean up
the mess left for them.

Our planet’s oceans are precious ecosystems,
environments, and homes for some
of our planet’s most diverse and beautiful
life-forms – not to mention that every human
alive is a descendant of the first mammals
that crawled out of the ancient sea
millions of years ago –
and everything alive has a right
to live somewhere untouched and unharmed
by a fellow species of this planet.

No one owns this world…
no one can predict what effect
our polluting of our planet’s air,
oceans, and land will ultimately have
on everything that makes this world
the planet that it is supposed to be –
but one thing is for sure,
no matter what we do
from here on out
to begin to clean up
humanity’s own mess
any way that we can,
there is no way that anybody
could ever entirely turn back
Earth’s environmental clock.

Happy Earth Day, everybody! 🌍