Everything has a vibration... everyone knows if and when they are on solid ground... everything is what it is for a reason... everyone, whether they realise it, or not, has a sound: a gift to be able to break the barrier of distance and air between two points, just as unmistakable as the language of touch generated by making contact with a drum. Some people have an innate ear for what sounds right... some people have an observant eye for what looks out of place... some people have an natural ability to be able to pick up new things just as fast and just as easy as it was for them to learn how to ride a bike... some people have the skill to be able to never forget a face, while some people are better at remembering particular numbers and names. Some skills that we acquire are self taught, while other skills come over time and take a steady recurrence of repetition in order to assimilate the necessary muscle memory... some gifts are passed down from person to person, from generation to generation, as effortlessly as driftwood floating upon the surface of an ocean before finally coming to rest upon a sandy bay... some things are meant to be, while some things are not the right fit; however, all things and all people have a reason and a fate meant just for them: something that they are good above all else, which they might describe as being their forté.
gift
My Poem “The Way of the Artist”
Everything changes... everything evolves... everybody doing every thing has their own process... new things have naturally arisen over time to replace other things and other ways of doing things; however, some things never change - and one of the things that will never change is the way that artists are inspired, the way that artists seek out new sources of stimulation, the way that artists wake up every morning and want to create art, the way that artists cannot settle down to sleep without first either thinking about or doing something about the nugget of an idea within them. There is something inherently human about art and about attempting to capture the sometimes incomparable, about the need to express our inner most thoughts, feelings, emotions, dreams, hopes, fears, and our natural insecurities... there is something primal about the experience of having this overriding instinct that we feel compelled to act upon... there is something almost genetic about how people young and old seem to have the same unconscious ability to be able to go to the same places that other people are unable to, because there exists this continuity of connection that crosses generations like some kind of universal melody. All my life I have created art, I have witnessed art being created, and I have come to recognize the look in a fellow artist's eyes when they are deep within that moment when the inspiration and the art within them are in full-flow, as if it were a sixth sense of mine that I have slowly but surely developed over time... all my life I have looked at the natural beauty of the world rise like waves upon an ocean and literally change the geography of a well known place or monument... all my life I have witnessed something come from something - and I have come to believe that "nothing" is in fact a type of "something" that we have not yet given a name to, because certain things are like energy and no matter what they will always exist. Looking for an answer to a question that may have been asked for centuries and expecting to find what has not occurred to anyone else before, at least to me, is not in any way a sign of madness - in fact, I believe the art of being inquisitive and never asking the question "why create art in the first place?" and just feeling this need to create some kind of art is the most powerful gift and the most fulfilling way of every artist.
My Poem “Eternally Illusive”
Some of the most influential artists
are the most illusive…
some of the most prolific artists
are the those who most people
will never be lucky enough to meet…
some of the most powerful artists
have worn masks all of their careers…
some of the most emotional artists
are those who never publicly shed a tear…
some of the most acclaimed artists
are those who want to be judged
upon the quality of their art
and not by how they look…
some of the most accomplished artists
are those who draw people to them
because they speak a language
that is universally understood…
some of the most loved artists
are those who respect their audience
and layer their work with insights about
them that reflect who they are within…
some of the most iconic artists,
who are worshipped as if they were a deities,
live on after they have ascended this world
and leave words, sounds, messages,
music, and sustenance for the mind,
the heart, the soul, and everything in between…
some of the most poetic artists
infuse their masterpieces with
so much of themselves that they illicit
memories, feelings, and emotions in others
capable of being retroactively reciprocated…
some of the most intriguing artists
will always be considered as such because of the way that they can cause somekind of surge of energy in the imagination
of people near and far, old and young –
while continuing their enduring legacy of remaining eternally illusive.
Dedicated to Daft Punk
My Poem “Liberty will never fall”
Humanity has lived through times
when we have looked at what was going on
around the world and we have had to
ask ourselves: what is going to happen next?
What does this all mean?
Is this the end of the world?
Times of plague and pandemic:
times of financial crisis; times of war;
times of terrorism – and in recent history,
apart from what we are all
living through right now,
I would have to say that the terrorist
attacks on the United States of America,
on September 11th, 2001, would have to be,
and will always be considered as,
one of the single most destructive
and world changing events
that we have ever known
and which will never be forgotten.
The events of that Tuesday afternoon
in September of 2001, when thousands
of people were killed as a result of terrorism,
have been ingrained within my mind,
and the world, for 19 years now –
and I can still remember exactly what I saw,
what I heard, and what I felt when
I witnessed, along with the world,
the last moments of life of innocent people;
and the subsequent attacks that have
taken place upon people who have done
nothing to nobody, as a result of a
ideology of fear, are deployable, cruel,
nonsensical, and grotesque.
One thing that should have been
made abundantly clear by now
to those who hate others so passionately,
by those who have been attacked
but who still continue to stand
and who still continue to the fight
the scurge of tyrrany that continues
to blight societies all around the world:
freedom is a gift, and nobody has the right
to spread fear, to intimidate others,
and to kill people who only want to be
who they were brought up
to want to be.
We all live on an interconnected world,
and we all have the right to think,
to dream, and to wish for things that we want;
but actions have consequences,
the world is not always simple to navigate,
and no one can do anything with impunity,
and if every peace-loving person works
together for the betterment of all mankind
then there will come a day
when the true gift of a free society,
liberty, will continue to rise
and will never fall.
My Poem “Mojo”
Sometimes some things come naturally…
sometimes some things take some work…
sometimes some things we are drawn to
like a honeybee to nectar…
sometimes some things start out small
before growing into becoming
something that fills our entire world…
sometimes we repeat some things
because we know where we stand with them…
sometimes we embrace some things
because we instantly know from the
outside what awaits us within…
sometimes we just emanate that which
we instantly know how to turn on,
how to share, and how to show…
sometimes we all just enjoy the simple experience
of taking off the masks that
we sometimes have to wear,
because we appreciate how precious
the gift of true expression is,
especially these days –
because each of us have within us
a power to do something unique
that is our own indefinable “mojo”.
My Poem “Eyes”
I wonder how many people realise
that when they are staring into
another person’s eyes
that they are not only looking at
the windows into a person’s soul
but they are also seeing the most
external part of that person’s brain
which is constantly relaying multiple images
at the speed of light down the optic nerve
of each eye to the part of the brain
responsible for making decisions
and stimulating many simultaneous
reactions as a result,
and it is also true that you can tell
a lot about a person’s health
and their lifestyle by watching
the way that the iris of someone’s eye
moves, dilhilates, focuses and flickers –
and I think the fact that our eyes
have such a direct connection to
the way our brain operates,
the thoughts that we have,
and the storm of chemicals that
bubbles up within us perfectly
symbolises
why it is important to take care of your eyes
because they are vital in more ways
that some people might realise.
My Poem “The Gift of Freedom”
The beat of the raindrops falling
outside my bedroom window
sounds like someone is playing
a drum solo of some kind,
and the tune that I hear
is one that is unique to my ears
because it is being slowly conducted,
created and performed by nature itself
randomly and yet beautifully
and at a time when individual
creativity and ingenuity
seems to be at its most prized.
Grey clouds obscure the blue sky above…
people queue in their droves to go
shopping at their preferred supermarkets
and convenience stores –
however, there are definitely less people
walking, cycling, and driving from place to place
than there normally would be…
people are naturally trying to use
their time inside their homes wisely
by making things and by doing daily chores
while spending the majority of their time
surrounded by the same familiar four walls.
It’s good to do things…
it’s good to have routines…
it’s good to focus your attention
on what you can do to keep
the light with you and within
everybody around you shining…
it’s good to start something,
it’s good to finish something,
it’s good to repeat something,
it’s good to find meaning in something –
because sometimes by doing something
you can discover that that which
you have been looking for
has been present in your life
and has been secretly
inspiring your dreams for some time…
sometimes it is not until people
have to surrender to living a life
of incarceration, lockdown,
isolation and quarantine
that they realize what the true gift
of freedom is and what it truly means.
My Poem “More than we might know”
Christmas Day is but once a year,
however the way that some people
make us feel every day
is enough to make us what to cry
tears of love and joy
because we know how lucky we are to
have them close and near.
Christmas time is when people tend
to think about others more than usual,
and Christmas time is also
when people often also
tend to reflect back upon
everything that life has tested them with,
especially as we all grow older
and we remember things in the past
that we may have accidentally taken for granted.
Everybody is this life needs somebody
to hear them, to think about them,
to give them the gift of their time –
even is it is only in the form of
a greetings card that tells someone
that you were thinking about them,
because no one who has done so much
good for other people ever deserves
to be forgotten or left behind.
Time is precious…
people are vulnerable…
there are people in this world
who have lost everything
because of a natural disaster,
because of homelessness,
because life has not been kind to them –
and this time of the year is when
a large population of the world
considers what means the most to them,
and the greatest gift
that we can all give one another –
as members of the collective
human family of this planet –
is respect, peace, and an opportunity
for everybody to find happiness
while doing something
that gives their life meaning.
We can all be better people sometimes…
we can all be better at communicating
our feelings – however, there are times
when talking is the hardest thing to do,
especially when you feel like nobody
could ever understand
what you are going through…
we can all be better listeners –
however, the ability to fully listen
and to hear what someone is trying
to tell you is harder than you think.
We can all be there for somebody
in particular when they need
the gift of someone to be there for them,
to make time for them,
to embody the spirit of the season,
and to get them through the sometimes
harsh Winter of the Northern Hemisphere
and the sometimes uncomfortable Summer
of the Southern Hemisphere –
because no one is immune to life,
because everybody is human,
and it is important that we all
remember, as often as possible,
who we are, what we are,
how short our time to shine is,
and that it takes almost no effort at all
to be present in the life
of somebody who may needs us
more than we might know.
Mark The Poet 