My Poem “Never Stop Reaching”

Most dreamers, most writers,
most artists, like me,
often reach beyond what they know
in order to imagine, to see,
and to understand things
that they do not know,
have never experienced,
and have never seen –
sometimes you just have to,
sometimes you just have to
take a leap of imagination
into another world
equipped with as much knowledge
and first-hand accounts from people
who have been through
what you want to say
and let what you have heard
play out throughout your mind
and be interpreted with your own
internal voice and your artistic echo chamber,
and then share with your own
artistic license in the way
that a poet does…
no two people will have
the exact same thing to say about the same something –
unless they are experiencing a moment
of true and unfiltered synchronicity –
because, most of the time,
our memories and our experiences
have their own unique and predetermined
say on how we will personally
react to a given situation…
everybody finds their own truth
in their own time…
everybody finds their own gifts
in their own way…
everybody finds their own identity
in the mirror the more that they
find people who inspire them
and give them an answer to
what and why they are who they are
and how they should be living their life…
everybody finds their own discipline to practice,
their own doctrine to follow,
their own natural medicine to heal their own
unseen scars, the more that they
make strides down paths
that they do not know the end of…
everybody who is adventurous
is like a child – no matter how old they are –
because they know that sometimes
you have to reach the edge of something,
sometimes you have to leap
into the unknown without thinking,
and no matter what you are doing
you should never stop reaching.

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My Poem “Good Omens”

The sun was shining
when I woke up this morning,
but as time went by
the clouds began to gather
and the raindrops started to fall…
it had been raining for days –
but I actually believed
that today would be the day
when spring would finally begin
and everybody could once again
enjoy the experience of walking tall
under the light of the sun
that has always been somewhat
of a universal draw…
just as I and everybody
had come to the conclusion
that the end of time was upon us
and that it was potentially
going to rain for another
forty days and forty nights, or more,
spontaneously a bright burst of sunlight
parted the dark clouds
and shined down from above –
like witnessing a miracle happening,
or like watching a thought,
an idea, or a dreaming coming true…
as soon as everybody saw the sun shining
and usher in a bright blue sky almost immediately,
I instantly saw smiles appear on people’s faces
and the clouds above people’s heads lift –
as if the sunlight that everybody had witnessed
inspired a feeling of hope and optimism,
and a definitive change in the collective mood…
it’s amazing what the gift of sunlight can do…
it’s incredible to watch wet paths
and deep puddles of water evaporate
before your eyes and make
even the most shy of people
want to laugh and sing…
it is breathtaking to see something –
that may seem random to someone else –
and to interpret it as if it were
a sign of a higher power
and a reminder to always expect the unexpected…
even when all that you hear
and all that you see makes your mind
wander to all the things in the world
that make people dwell upon
the fear of the doom and gloom
that seeks to cast a shadow over the world –
like when the sun is obscured by the moon –
it is always important to think,
to hope for, and to look for all
the positive lights that are there to be found,
even on a morning of dark clouds and raindrops
you can find small, but significant, good omens.

My Poem “Ideas don’t die”

You can bury ideas,
you can file them away for a rainy day,
you can hide ideas –
but one day those same ideas
will return to haunt you,
to keep you up at night,
and continue to make you think…
Ideas come from places, from things,
and from people – sometimes randomly…
Ideas are like sharks –
and sometimes they are just too big,
too fast, and too strong, to get away from,
because they are so imposing
and so overpowering…
Life itself is an idea,
and many people have different
and varying ideas and opinions
on how people should choose to live their lives…
Art is mostly a nexus of many ideas
coming together to form a unified idea
that surpasses and eclipses
all the others that made it…
The creation of ideas is like
engaging in an act of reproduction –
and just like every spawn or offspring,
a song, a piece of music, a story, a poem,
has an idea running through it
that binds every note, every word,
every picture of imagery,
like a strand of DNA…
Ideas make “something” out of “nothing” –
but “nothing” in my experience
is ever truly “nothing”,
because everything does mean something…
Perception is everything…
Ideas are born from experience,
and by seeing, listening, and feeling
something that creates a connection…
Ideas are the greatest and the most powerful
source of fuel for any creative person –
however, even if do not deliberately make art,
I believe that certain ideas have a way
of changing someone in such a way
that they are never the same
after they have come into contact with them –
because, for some reason, some ideas just won’t die.

Listen to My Poem “Ideas don’t die” by Mark The Poet on #SoundCloud

My Poem “Everybody is a Poet”

The truth –
no matter what anybody tells you –
is that everyone is an artist,
everyone is a Poet,
everyone can do something unique,
everyone has a talent,
everyone has something that they are meant to do,
everyone has the spirit, the soul, the mind
than when honed is capable of doing anything,
expressing anything, experiencing everything
that makes life on this planet worth living…
If you can make someone smile,
if you can make someone laugh,
if you can make someone think,
if you can make someone feel something,
then I am happy to tell you
that you are an artist, you are a poet,
you are a member of a world wide
society of people who embody life
from every extreme on the scale
of reality in which we are capable of
inhaling and exhaling…
Money can’t buy you many things –
and one of the things that it can’t buy
is yourself: your life, your memories,
your experiences, your perspective,
your joy, your happiness, your hopes,
your fears, your nightmares, your concerns,
because all of those things are unique to you alone
but they can be shared and sympathized with others
because there are always others who have similar,
universal, human, psychological, physical,
and verbal insights into the kaleidoscope
of thoughts, dreams, and emotions
that drive the engine of nature
that surrounds all of us…
There are things in this life, in the universe,
that nobody can see –
when astronomers look up and back in time
to the beginning of the universe
they find an impenetrable wall of light and energy:
the innermost shock-wave from the explosion
that created everything that we see,
from the moment of the Big Bang, frozen in time –
which surrounds the answers to some of the most
important questions ever asked: Why are we here?
What is the meaning of life? Is there a God?
Everybody asks questions – that is what we do,
and that is what humanity has always done…
Everybody has a story to tell
and everybody is a storyteller
and a character in their own right…
Everybody goes on a journey during their life
to find themselves and what they believe
should be their purpose while they are alive
on Earth and a member of this world…
Everybody creates a little piece of art every day,
but sometimes it can take a while to interpret
what someone is trying to say –
however, in their own way,
even if they do not realize it,
and even if they are not actually using words
to communicate their feelings and motivations,
a person’s actions can speak volumes,
and in my opinion every action that someone
makes should be classed as poetic…
I have met a lot of people throughout my life,
and I have heard, seen, and I have read stories
about people from vastly different walks of life –
and the conclusion that I have come to
is that everybody, in their own way,
is an artist, and everybody is a Poet.

My Poem “The 1975 Experience”

I feel so alive…
I am still riding high
upon a wave of sound,
energy, and light,
after watching, after listening,
to my favourite band, The 1975,
live for the first time…
the experience was amazing…
the show was mesmerizing…
the almost spiritual, simultaneous,
synchronous, visceral gift
of opening your heart, your mind,
your soul, your senses, your mouth,
taking in, letting out an incantation
of love in the form of music and song words
that you know is an unfiltered
communication of pure ecstasy –
and in my opinion there is no way
of replicating that feeling of connection,
that wave of emotions that you find yourself riding…
when we are in presence of similar souls to us,
when we hope and pray to be taken away on a journey
to another place, and we reach a state
of hypnotic and perfect bliss,
returning to the outside world,
walking through the darkness surrounded by stars,
into the cold air of the night,
is like waking up from a dream
that you find it hard to describe afterwards
because it was so enlivening…
coming down after flying so high is always hard…
getting up the next morning
after a transcendental experience
is like waking up with a hangover
after being intoxicated by a drug…
I have had moments of time in my life
that were so special to me that I will never
forget them until the day that I die:
meeting my one true love and asking her to marry me,
meeting my favourite author,
standing atop the Empire State Building
and taking in the extraordinary
360-degree view of New York City,
getting my first book of poetry published,
and so many more –
and now I can add my time listening
to The 1975 live and in concert to that list,
because just like when I try and recapture
the sensations of doing all of the amazing things
that I will always remember doing,
when I close my mind eyes I still feel like
I am when and where I once was:
one moment in my lovers arms
sitting on that wooden porch in Georgia
that I still remember so well,
and the next bathed in the light
and the sounds being witnessed and reciprocated by
my favourite band, The 1975, on a cold January night.

My Poem “Transformative”

They say that how you end one year
you will begin the next year in the same way?
However, in this life, though we may have
no control over the when and the where
we enter and exit this world,
what we can control is what we decide to do
and when we decide to do it, and with whom…
Life is too short to waste…
Life is better when shared with a soulmate…
Time waits for no-one…
People are there one minute,
and the next they are gone…
Angels exist, demons do too…
Heaven is a real place,
Hell is where you live
when you stop doing what you love to do…
You can begin something again any time you want…
You can create anything your mind can imagine…
You can go anywhere you want –
never let anyone tell you that you can’t…
If you think of every day as if it were
the next level of a game then one day
you can reach the end of the story
you are a part of and win…
Patience is a necessary component
in anybody’s quest to achieving anything…
Planning and practice can sometimes be beneficial –
however, following a blueprint to the nth degree
can sometimes hold you back from exploring
the magic that comes from spontaneity
and focusing on the rhythm of your own breathing…
Sometimes in life you have got to be inventive…
Sometimes in life you have got to be passive…
Sometimes in life you have got to dig deep
and give all that you have got to give…
In life you have got to live and embrace
the moments of living in order to experience
a restorative energy that never ceases
to be transformative.

My Poem “Rhapsody”

The voices of everybody over-lap…
one minute the music is jazz,
the next the beautiful melody of a piano…
the echoes of a chorus of sounds
are carried through the air
like the waves of an ocean…
there are moments of time that run slow
and there are those that race past
and then are gone again in a flash…
there is a dance of people,
of language, of emotions,
of noise, of stillness, of silence…
the beats of a heart,
the thoughts of a mind,
the air and the ambiance
that flows gently like a stream
can gradually become a waterfall –
the place, the people, the music,
the moment that is filled
with an infinite number of instants
that make them who and what they are
is what is at the heart
and what is the true essence
of what poetry, to me, is all about…
the best poetry comes from the heart of a poet
who feels a moment of time and an experience
so deeply and so profoundly
that it can only be expressed as a rhapsody.