Worlds collide all the time…
things change every day…
stories begin and then come to an end -
sometimes without warning,
and without a satisfying conclusion…
the last word of someone is spoken,
the line of a character is uttered -
and then the curtain falls,
the lights go out,
and everything goes dark…
however, when some worlds collide,
a brand new world dawns,
a new wave of energy rises,
a story is retold in a new way,
and someone’s last words echo
and follow them into the next world
and the new phase of existence
that they find themselves now living.
The end of one road does not mean
the end of the journey in its entirety -
because when you leave a road
you have been on for a long time
you discover new paths
that could not have been seen before,
because you were unable to find them…
it is only when we are asked to reevaluate
where we have been, what we have done,
where we want to go, what we want to do next,
that we get the opportunity to go back -
physically, or perhaps figuratively speaking -
and undo what, and perhaps to whom,
we have been bound to for so long
and renew our relationship with things,
and with people, that has come to a point
when a test is warranted to make sure that
we are not in a situation where we are on our way
to somewhere we will not feel fulfilled, happy,
nor able to grow, learn, and see
that who and what are,
and who we are meant to be,
requires us to take the steps
that need to be taken.
The renewal of something that has
always been profound to you
can happen if you want it to -
but ultimately you might have to resist
what your head is telling you
and go with what your heart
tells you to do instead…
if you feel as if the destruction
of something, or somewhere -
even if that place only exists in your own mind
and is a fantasy world within a story -
myths and legends tell of times of war,
of sacrifice, and of end times;
however, at the end of every tale
of the end of every world,
there is always a next life that is promised,
there is always a future state that awaits,
there is always a hope of finding answers
to all the questions that you have asked in the past,
which speaks to the need of humanity
to not fear the unknown and embrace
what always has to happen -
and that is why I believe that nothing is impossible,
and everything and everyone might one day find out
that the universe isn’t what we think it is,
because the cycle of existence may be
some sort of cosmic phenomenon
that everything experiences,
and we are constantly rejuvenated,
reincarnated, and regenerated,
in a repeating and continuous process of redux.
cycle
My Poem “Return to the Beginning”
Life can sometimes be
like being on a fairground ride,
like being on a rollercoaster -
because so much of our time
is spent doing the same things
in a repeating cycle;
however, no matter how much nostalgia
we feel for a time, or for a place, in the past,
if and when we attempt to go backwards
and in reverse then we may only find
heartbreak waiting for us -
especially when we realise that
we can only stay where we used to be
for a short time before returning
to the present, to the now, to who we are,
to the knowledge of what happened, what changed,
and who we have lost along the way.
Returning to the past can be difficult;
returning to the past can be challenging;
returning to the past can be painful;
returning to what was can sometimes
shine a light upon what was pushed
into the shadows of your mind for a reason
that you may have forgotten about;
returning to the path of memory lane
can make you realise where, when, why,
and how things changed for the best,
as well as for the worse.
Life can sometimes feel like a constant uphill struggle;
life can sometimes feel like a Summer’s kiss;
life can sometimes feel like a fever dream;
life can sometimes feel like something is happening
that you can’t control or understand,
but you have to make the best of it;
life can sometimes feel like a constant
storm of emotions and feelings
that you have to overcome;
life can sometimes feel like
it has been a long time coming
since things were simple and made sense.
Returning to the origins of a story;
returning to the muse of inspiration;
returning to the flash that started
the tidal wave of creativity;
returning to the source of rejuvenation;
returning to that which opened doors to other places,
which lead to meeting other people,
in sometimes new, interesting, and unexpected ways,
can remind us of why we are all, mostly,
hopeful of a better world,
and optimistic of what possibilities
the future of tomorrow might bring;
however, though it is nice to find things
and to see things that we haven’t
seen in some time,
and though it is initially good to see
people we may not have been
in the presence of for sometime,
there is always a cost to be paid,
to be taken, and to be made,
if you ever want, if you ever need,
or if you ever feel like you must go back
and return to the beginning.
My Poem “Square One”
Just like in the game of Monopoly
when everybody first arrives in this world
they start with the word “Go”,
and then they roll the dice
that will decide for them
where the game they are
involved in will take them –
and the rules of life
are similar to the rules of a game:
each of us start somewhere,
each of us are given a name,
each of us are given choices,
and as we learn more about
who we are and what motivates us
we find ourselves being pulled
down particular paths,
by particular things,
by particular people,
into making decisions
that will effect the rest of our lives.
No one in this life
is immune to influence –
because our brains are driven
by stimulation and information,
even from a young age…
no one can stop themselves
from making the “wrong choice” –
because up until a choice or a move
has been played to its conclusion
there is no way of knowing
the outcome of anything…
everybody dreams of becoming
something or someone when they are a child –
something or someone
who they see and want to emulate;
but I wonder how many people
actually became who they wanted to be
when they grew up,
if they did what they wanted to do,
and if they became who they wanted to be
when they were a kid?
Life has a way of making certain things happen,
while other things never get off the drawing-board…
people have a way of changing
their minds more frequently than they would think under certain circumstances…
the terrain that people think
will always stay the same
has a way of being remade
that cannot simply be returned
to how it used to be –
because nothing, no one,
and nowhere stays untouched
by outside influences.
From the moment that
the necessary components of our planet
coalesced and began to slowly
but surely evolve into
the wild testbed of experimentation
that it will always be,
even before humanity entered
the mix and started effecting
the world by any and all means,
Earth has been visited from space
many times by its fellow
celestial cousins
and it has continued to
thrive and go with the flow
of whatever course
plays out upon its surface.
Everything and everybody
begins their journey with
whatever and whomever
they have at their disposal,
and then, before long,
everything and everyone
finds themselves being
taken to places that they
do not choose to be –
but places where others want them to be;
and that is when the seeds
of rebellion are first sowen,
that is when the first ideas
of defiance start to get louder and louder –
until every individual decides to do something for them
and for no one else,
and that is when it starts:
that is when the power of chance
can start to change the map
of the world within our mind
and start to alter our opinion
of what we are here to do
and who we are supposed to be.
We all think that we will not
make the mistakes that similar people in our shoes have made in the past…
we all think that we can somehow
be different from other people
if we have “more” of something
than someone else…
we all think that we might get to see
something that no one else has ever seen,
or experience something
that no one has ever done before;
but each of us discover
that we are all constantly stuck
in a loop of repetition
that is hard to break free of –
especially when we find out that
there are powers in the world
that wish to control others
into thinking and believing
that one way is the only way
and supercedes all others…
we all think that there is a way
to see something before it happens,
and perhaps prevent the inevitable –
but time and time again
each of us are given a wake up call
that reminds us that some things
will always happen
because they were always meant to happen:
including proceeding down a path
for as long and for as far as we can
before realizing that we have
actually returned to where we were
and have to start over again
from Square One.
My Poem “The Hero’s Journey”
It occurs to me that since I
first began writing poetry
that I have been on my own version
of “The Hero’s Journey”…
perhaps I have been on
my “Hero’s Journey” since I was a child –
or, more likely, like most people
who find themselves called
to seek out adventure,
my childhood was just the preparation
that I needed to learn and to grow
before I knew what I had to do,
why I had to do it,
and where I needed to go.
My call to adventure was one of love –
and when I discovered the book
that I would come to consider
as the poetic version of a “holy text”
that was when I felt like I crossed
a threshold into a new world
where I could see patterns
and poetry all around me
and I felt truly transformed
and able to walk through doors
that I was unable to do so before.
When I first started upon
the path of the poet,
and wearing the guise
of the Poet of the Sphere,
along the way I found myself
drawn to people and inspired
by mentors and muses
who opened my eyes to things
that challenged the way
that I perceived the world around me
and I was tempted down dead ends
that would ultimately lead me to a downfall.
After my fall I found myself
within a dark and deep abyss
of my own making –
however, eventually, I was able
to pick myself up off the ground
and like the embodiment of
a mythological phoenix
rising from a fire
I felt as if I had been reborn,
and yet again I found myself
walking down a path of transformation
in order to find myself,
which was followed by
moments of revelation
that lead me to atone
for the actions that I had taken
that had lead me to emotional ruin.
Over time I was given the gift
of love from a goddess
and I was forgiven, and then I returned
from the underworld of the unknown
to the land of light where I would
rekindle the love that gives
meaning to everything that I do –
and so the cycle began again,
and again – however each time always
distinctly different in some way –
and after every new revolution
was completed I always found myself
sitting down, alone, writing,
contemplating and attempting
to interpret in verse the revelations
and the phases that combine
to make the tapestry of
my own version of
“The Hero’s Journey”.
My Poem “Working Day”
Ice scraping… wheels spinning…
wind blowing… people shivering…
the air of the morning is freezing…
the winter weather of
this new morning is unforgiving.
Turn the heat up to the max…
watch your footing upon those slippery paths…
keep those windows closed
or you will feel the snap
of that deadly draft.
Blue sky… birds chirping as they fly…
Looks like the traffic is light?
But now red lights? Why?
I think some people need
to relearn how to drive?
Busy bees of the city –
people with somewhere to be…
On the radio I hear
that some trains have been cancelled,
that some cars have
broken down on some highways –
and I bet that there more than
a few people asking themselves right now
the question: why me?
Bikers weaving lane to lane –
those riders have got to be on their game…
A near-miss? Wow! That was close!
If that rider had been any slower then
right now they’d be toast.
Get to work with time to spare –
not the best feeling to be there…
hot coffee, calls to make,
not long until the next break…
hopefully the time today flies by –
hopefully 9 will soon turn into 5.
Driving home…
my bed is calling…
my phone is dying…
my stomach is rumbling…
might need to get
some take-out on my way –
because if I don’t
it’ll soon be too late.
Home safe… legs ache…
take-out meal still warm? Great!
Time to watch some TV? Ok!
Eyelids soon get heavy…
Hard to concentrate…
Need to sleep…
These days it is not as easy
as it used to be to stay up late.
Seems like the instant
that my head hits the pillow
my alarm clock is already waking me up –
and whether it want to or not
now I need to roll out of bed
and get up.
Another day, another dollar…
once again I am getting dressed,
and flattening down my collar –
and soon enough I am heading
out of the house
to restart the cycle,
and as always I hope and I pray
that I can once again make it through
the “rat race” of all that
life throws at the average person
on a typical, busy, often exhausting,
modern day, wild west of a working day.
My Poem “The Brightest of the Bright”
The sun has one again risen
in the sky as high as it can rise…
the light from the sun
that shines down upon us
is this years’ brightest of the bright…
the Summer solstice
has started in the Northern Hemisphere
of our planet and it is a time for some
of celebration and reverie in many forms,
and it is also a time when many people
gather together to welcome
this brand new season of the ever-repeating
and ever-evolving cycle of life.
Our world rotates
and does not stop doing so…
Earth changes and endures –
as do the life-forms who call it home…
time on our planet
is observed differently
and it is perceived
to have more moments
at this time of the year
during which people can enjoy
the delights of their outside environment
because there appears to be longer days
of consistent daylight.
Our planet’s relationship with the Sun
is a constant reminder to me
of how interconnected we will always be
to the celestial sphere of light,
heat, and hope that has been,
and always will be,
the catalyst in the natural development
of the celestial bodies
that have orbited it
since the birth of our closest star –
and I am sure that elsewhere
in the galaxies of the universe
that similar stars to our sun
share a similar connection
with what they have drawn towards them,
the other stars that shine
and ultimately combine to create
the tapestry of heavenly light
that makes the disk of a galaxy
look the way that it does
when seen from above
when all the stars shine in harmony
with their fellow brothers
and sisters of the heavens.
My Poem “The Best of All Dreams”
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 ‘Crescendo (Happy New Year)’
As one important door closes,
another important door opens…
as one year ends,
as one journey reaches its climax…
another year, another journey begins…
as one world sleeps, another world awakens –
and the cycle of life begins again,
similar and yet brand new…
as one sky becomes filled with twinkling stars,
another sky is as bright as can be
breathtaking and blue.
This is real life…
this is the song of day and night…
this is the orbit of the human soul –
just like the moon spinning around the Earth,
just like the Earth spinning around the sun,
just like the sun spinning
on the outer-edge of our galaxy.
Lights go out in the universe
every second of every day,
but we do not see them until it is too late –
however, it is never too late
to mourn the passing of something, or someone,
whomever, or wherever they are,
with a thought, with a song,
with a simple-but-meaningful verse of poetry.
Time passes into darkness too quickly…
stars shine, they burn bright –
and then, like everything and everyone,
there comes a day when they die…
memories remain, everything and everyone
continue to live on,
and it is a long time before something
or someone’s spirit actually leaves…
there is nothing worse than letting go of something –
however, the parting of ways with something
is not the same as saying goodbye.
Within the blink of an eye…
within the time that it takes for you to realize
what your life has all been about
and what you leave behind,
you see a shadow fall within your mind…
every second, every minute, every hour, every day,
every year, of every moment of time
are all the same and are all connected like a chain –
one leading to another, over and over,
and continuing in one direction: forwards –
no matter if you feel like you are living in the past,
there is always a brand new miracle
that the universe wants to show you…
life is a precious and beautiful piece of music
that never stops growing, evolving, and building
into the most epic of all crescendos.
My Poem ‘The Foreseeable’
No matter how much the climate changes…
no matter the year, the decade, or the century…
no matter the faces of the famous
displayed online or printed
on the black and white newspaper pages…
no matter how we interact with one-another –
face to face, or by using the most
up-to-date technology…
some things will never change
and will always stay the same…
no matter what the names are
of the games that people love to play…
days and dates will always continue
to mean something –
especially on those occasions
when people can celebrate
and enjoy light that never stops sparkling.
Many of us are creatures of habit –
I, myself, have walked the same way,
done the same things,
listened to the same music so many times
that people could probably
set their clocks by me –
some may wonder what it is
about my almost daily-routine
that stimulates me and keeps me
from repeating my actions
to the degree that they become boring;
however, all I can say
is that no matter how many times
I go to the same place,
or I do the same thing,
every single day
I see something,
I hear something,
I learn something
that I never knew before –
and, to me, each new day
and every new person that I see
is a mystery to observe and explore.
Routine keeps the world turning;
repeating keeps an engine from stalling;
re-reading keeps a person’s thoughts running;
reevaluating everything you see
keeps the world exciting and inspiring;
reminding yourself of why it is important
to do some things regularly
remedies any and all short-comings
about you or your life
that you feel there may sometimes be.
For the vast-majority of our lives,
most of the things that happen to us
are predictable;
we all can have a so-called “ordinary day”,
during which there will be something
that will happen that will be remarkable;
our life’s cycles are some of the most
special and personal things
that we can always rely on and fall back on,
and they are what make our lives
feel full and wonderful;
the world will consistently remain
changeable, recyclable,
and indomitably-incapable
of not trying to reinvent itself
without breaking its own mould –
and in doing so
everything and everybody
will always have a part of them
that will be both random
and foreseeable.
My Poem ‘The Bright Side’
There is no such thing
as total-darkness;
there will always be
those who have more
and those who have less;
in a dark-blue sky
there is nothing like
the pure white light
of the moon’s crescent
to fill you with awe
and relieve you of any stress.
When the sun rises after a long night,
when the moon appears like a ghost in the sky,
when dawn calls, when dusk falls,
when ocean-waters become a mirror,
when candle wicks burn
and their flames flicker,
when eyes open, when eyes close,
when the world of the day has awoken,
when the aroma of the air
is as distinctive as the smell
after a thunderstorm
or as unmistakable
as the pungency of burnt-toast.
With the first observance of fire
followed a basic understanding
of the human heart,
and what lies and burns
at the core of every living thing;
when humanity first saw lightning,
it must have automatically
occurred to our ancestors
that it must be the energy
and the work of the gods
who dwelled in the sky above;
when the first language of expressions
and signs was first devised
and replicated over and over again,
it must have been phenomenally exciting;
when the first heart ached for another,
that was when humanity first discovered
one of the greatest forces in the universe –
the power of love.
Most people, and most things,
do not get a choice about how and when
their story will come to an end –
every sunset, every sunrise,
could be someone’s last;
over time truly is how and when
you find out who are your true family and friends –
and every day that comes and goes,
and who it is that you see
when you look around yourself,
is when and how you find out
who is your eternal star and sunshine –
and they who will always be the one
to show you life’s
ever-present bright side.
Mark The Poet 