Happy National Read A Book Day!

Mark Hastings books, me, Poetry, Quote, Short-story , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Happy National Read A Book Day! I happen to have written and had published 9 books in paperback and as an ebook – ranging from poetry to short-stories to short novels – and every time I have it has been a phenomenally fulfilling and a thrilling experience; however, nothing could ever compare to the experience of writing, reading, living, dreaming, and breathing every moment of every word of every poem or sentence that has made it into one of my books! Books of all kinds are like children – and they can change you and the way that you look at the world, as well as yourself… and some books can also change the way that you live your life, and the way that you read some books can change over time – depending on where and when you are in your life. Books are doorways through time and space… books are gateways to different worlds… books can talk to the person within each of us and compel us to do the impossible… books are incredible, books are vital, books are phenomenal, books are magical! I would implore everybody who is anybody to daily pick up a book and read something they have never read before – or perhaps something they have read a million times before – and especially today on National Read A Book Day, and it would be amazing if one of the books that people chose to pick up and read were one written by my own hand and with the power of my own limitless imagination! All my books are available online from Amazon, Barnes&Noble, and The Book Depository right now in paperback and as an ebook – so what better day than today to check one out and read the wonder of what can be found inside each and every one of them! 😊📖📚

My Poem “The Driving Force”

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

I have been inspired
by so many things
since I was a child:
television shows, films,
books, art, music, places, people –
and everything that I have
had a profound encounter with
has ultimately changed me
in some way, shape, or form;
however, like the after-effects
of a power-outage, as a result
of a bolt of lightning
from an electrical storm,
the realization and the rebooting
of my thoughts, feelings, and emotions
sometimes takes time to adapt
to such a new infusion of inspiration.

Every day I find new things to cherish
about some of the things that I know
like the back of my hand –
but that is the thing about life:
surprises can be found around every corner,
even in the places you visit
more often than most.

It can sometimes be hard to pin-point
where, when, and why something
in particular has the effect on you
that it always does –
but there is never any question
of how something so powerful
gets under your skin
and drives its presence deep within you,
because whether we want to admit it,
or not, each and every one of us
is inherently, biologically,
thin-skinned and fragile,
and easily capable of being influenced.

We are all a product and the end result
of so many influences:
our environment, our family, our friends,
our colleagues, our victories, our loses,
what we intake into our body,
what we subconsciously choose
to expose ourselves to via our senses –
and, ultimately, sometimes at the exact
same time that we are being
driven to distraction,
we can also be the driving force
propelling the thoughts, the feelings,
and the direction of other people
who we too are fueling with our gift
of attention and inspiration.

My Poem “The Warstone Angel”

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

In all of Warstone cemetery,
in Birmingham,
above only one of the many places of rest,
there stands the stone statue
of a single Angel, with one broken wing,
blessing the grave of lost
and reminding the living
who pass them by how important
the gift of life is –
and though the figure depicted
is motionless, because after all
they are a statue,
there is something about the look
upon their face that makes
you think, imagine, and possibly believe
that they could easily come to life
and float down to the ground
from their high plinth
and walk the paths that run
through the cemetery
so that they may bless
the graves of everybody
individually and know them by name
even though some of the grave stones
have long since had the identity
of those that they were erected
to remember eroded and erased…
it is comforting to think
that while we are alive,
and even after our time on this Earth
has come to an end,
that there are celestial beings
who do God’s work and who protect
those who need protecting,
who guide those in need of being guided
and who watch over the living,
as well as the dead,
so that they can find their way
to a place of peace –
and that is why I treasure
the gift of life, and that is why I believe
death is not the end for us when we die:
because some things, some places,
some revelations that people have,
even in a small way,
reveal that there is more to existence
than what we can see with our eyes –
but only those who have already
crossed over the threshold
between the world of the living
and the place of light and dark beyond
know what happens
and how much everybody
who is still Earthbound
are touched every day
by the hands of Angels
as they are silently blessed.

My Poem “360”

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

It is only when you step out
of your reality –
even if it is only for a short time –
that you discover what the other
sides of life really look like…
it is only when you step inside
the shoes, inside the world,
and inside the perspective
of somebody living in a place
and in a way that may be
far removed from the one
that you know so well
that you learn just how much
of life is not black and white –
because, in reality, life is
all colours and hues
from every extreme of the spectrum
all emanating and infusing
the universe with all its depth
all at once.

At different times of the day
life can feel like a dance…
sometimes life can feel
being at a rock concert…
sometimes life can be like
being at the theatre or at a cinema
watching a play or a movie…
life can sometimes be like
looking into a mirror…
life can sometimes feel like
you have been in a car-crash…
life can sometimes be like
being a passenger on a rocket-ship
bound for somewhere where
the gravity that you have
been used to all your life
no longer exists and you have
to learn to think, to move,
to propel, to motivate yourself,
to be someone and something else
beyond who and what you have always known.

The world turns fast,
but sometimes changes are slow to occur…
unfortunately far too few things
are meant to last,
but the precious gift of life
is to be able to explore
so many of the wonders of this world
that we call Earth.

Nature is always redefining itself…
nature is constantly being influenced
by humanity at the same time
that humanity is being influenced
and inspired by nature –
and every time someone goes somewhere
that they have never been before,
and they turn around to see
what is all around them in 360-degrees,
everybody has to take a pause
so that they can breathe in and breathe out
the dream come true of being free.

My Poem “The Virtual/Reality”

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

There used to be a clear
and present distinction
between the world of the real
and the reality of the virtual…
People used to be able to see
the truth of something
through the veil of the illusionary –
however, then illusionists became
better at presenting their craft
and more knowledgeable
about what motivated
the thoughts of a person’s mind
and what increased the beats
of a person’s heart,
and then it began to become
increasingly more harder
to see through the mirror
of reality that surrounds
everybody which constantly
reflects both the good and the bad
that a person observes about themselves
when they look at their own reflection.

The more that technology has advanced
the more elaborate illusions –
in all their many forms –
have become, and with every passing day
reality and fantasy have become
increasingly more indistinguishable
from one another…
in this day and age,
someone can put on a virtual reality headset,
they can open up an internet web browser,
and they can sign up to becoming
a participant and a player in a game –
however, without fully reading
the full extent of the terms
and the conditions by which
they may be bound to.

When a baby is born into this life
they are always unprepared
for what world awaits them…
when every child is growing up
they are always surrounded
by an abundance of messages,
pressures, and beacons of distraction
that are constantly interacting with,
and trying to influence,
their instincts, their choices,
and the actions that they will commit to…
when someone is transitioning
from being a beginner into becoming
a novice who knows the ropes
and all the rules of the world
and the society that they are tethered to
and which need to be adhered to,
while they are trying to figure out
who they want to be and what they want to do,
everybody is pulled in multiple directions,
by multiple people –
and it can take a long time before
someone realizes that the one person
who will feel the aftermath and the burden
of everything that they do is them,
and the greatest gift that someone
can possess is the ability
to be able to forgive themselves
and accept that they are a well-meaning,
maelstrom of both reason
and contradiction, human being, an avatar,
who, like everybody else,
does not have an accurate roadmap
telling them what to do
and when to do it.

At the heart of the complex is the simple,
and at the heart of the simple
is the complex…
in this day and age, everybody lives,
breathes, thinks, dreams, and feels
within a world tailored to their own
wants, needs, likes, and dislikes –
whether they know it or not –
that is as superficial
but as hard to break free of as
a machine-built matrix…
when it comes to choosing
which path to take, which reality is best,
everybody has to weigh up
with their heart, within their mind,
within their soul, what matters
the most to them: freedom? Or confinement?
knowledge? Or ignorance?
Fakery? Or the power of discovering
your true identity,
and seeing the code of interconnectivity
and learning to find the balance
needed to survive within,
and transition seamlessly
between, the ever changing
worlds of the virtual and the real.

My Poem “Being There”

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

Being there for someone
when they are in need
is sometimes all that
someone could wish for…
being that someone
on the other end of a line
that someone can talk to,
being that someone
who someone can turn to,
being that someone
who knows everything about
someone and who has seen
all the sides of someone’s personality
and who still chooses to see
and to believe in the best of them
is someone worth living for,
is someone worth fighting for,
and is perhaps someone
even worth dying for…
being there – somewhere, anywhere,
for someone, for anyone –
is a wonderful gift to bestow –
whether it be in mind,
in body, in spirit,
or in an artistic sense –
and the power of a person’s presence
should never be underestimated,
because there is rejuvenation to be felt,
there is hope to be found,
there is love to be cherished,
there is inspiration to be harnessed
simply by making a concerted effort
in some way, shape, or form,
to reach out and reciprocate
the act of beneficial benevolence
of being there for someone.

My Poem “Full Circle”

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

When you first start out
at doing something
you do not know just how
transformative what you
have chosen to do will be…
when you first start out
at doing anything
you are usually merely
dipping your toe into the ocean
of whatever new frontier
you are choosing explore…
when you first start out
looking for a reason
and an opportunity
to further develop
your new found pursuit
you usually try to practice
your art at every hour
of the day and the night
until whatever melody and rhythm
that you are attempting to play
with whatever instrument you have
at your disposal feels
and sounds just right.

When you are first starting out
and trying to figure out whether
whatever you have discovered
will be a short-term or a life-long
passion you usually have moments
when you start to question
everything about what something
means to you and why, and ultimately –
if something truly means
that much to you then you will
walk to the ends of the Earth
trying to find the end of the threads
that binds everything that makes
you who and what you are together.

When you first start creating art,
when you first start acting
on your instincts,
when you first start believing
that you can contribute something
to the tapestry of life on this
planet that is truly beautiful,
then you start to grow and become
something new at the same time
that you realize that
what you are actually doing
is walking a path that begins
and ends in the exact same place –
and when as you live longer
and as you see more of
life’s bigger picture
then you come to realize
that the universe, and the life
of everything and everybody,
is a journey that everybody takes
the long way round one big circle.

My Poem “The Underdog”

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

Underdogs are always underestimated –
however, in the same breath,
underdogs are also expected
to accomplish a sometimes almost
miraculous feat and overcome
every obstacle in their path…
underdogs are usually the ones
that a crowd of people gets behind
and roots for, because people
like the idea of being a participant
and a witness to a remarkable event
in a person’s life, their story,
their legend, their journey…
underdogs can sometimes appear
to have come from out of nowhere –
however everybody knows that someone
can only make a difference if
the right version of them shows up
and they put everything into
whatever they are doing…
an underdog is a rebel of the status quo…
an underdog is someone who does not know
when to lay down their sword
and keep their head low…
over the centuries history has recorded
the deeds and the words of underdogs
who answered a call to face an opponent
who towered above them in some way –
just like in the story of David and Goliath –
and it is because of these heroes,
and these icons of inspiration,
who chose to rise to the occasion
that they found themselves presented with,
that people all around the world
still to this day battle in arenas
of many kinds and sizes
and valiantly personify the importance
and the meaning of being an underdog.

My Poem “My Beautiful Muse”

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

You love me, I love you…
you inspire me, I inspire you…
we are each others’ world,
star, life, and moon…
Since the moment I met you
you have opened my eyes
to places and to things
that I never knew
but always hoped to be true.

I believe that our meeting
one another was no mere fluke –
because over the days, the months,
the weeks, the years
that we have known each other
and have been a part
of each others’ lives
I have discovered within you
and within myself gifts
and blessings that are hoped for
by the many but are only
found by the few.

When you share a love
as deep, as strong, as powerful,
as passionate, as phenomenal,
and as amazing as the one that we share
you want to do things
and you want to go to all the places
that lie on the borderline
between the worlds of the simple
and the complex,
and you want to leap into what you see,
what you hear, what you feel,
what you know, and what you
would rather die than to lose…
you and I live in a world of love,
and I will always love you,
because you are my life and my world,
my beautiful muse.

My Poem “Superpower”

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

The life of an artist
is not always easy…
the inspiration imbibed
by an artist is the combination
of a marathon of many steps
of a long journey…
an artist sometimes has to walk
a line between darkness and light…
relationships, experiences, loss,
the stories of other people
are a vital contributing factor
in how an artist will grow
and what an artist will choose to create…
the art of an artist is
a subjective perspective of life
that is neither wrong nor right.

The explosive power of an artist’s muse
is unparalleled and indescribable,
and when fully harnessed
the inspiration felt by an artist
can feel as amazing and invigorating
and as dangerous as holding
a stick of dynamite…
art is an obsession and it can be
as addictive as a drug,
and as intoxicating as love.

Love inspires art,
and art inspires love…
art can be seen below,
as well as above…
in my opinion, artists
are like superheroes
and the gift to be able
to make art is a miracle…
art can save people,
and artists who make art that matters
have a responsibility to instill
into their creations ideas
that will help other people dream
and achieve things in their life
that will flower and continue
to reinvigorate the gift
that is their inner light
and their ultimate source of power.