humanity

My Poem ‘9/11’

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

The die was cast far and wide,
the pain was felt deeply and irrevocably
on that sunny Tuesday morning,
on the Eleventh of September, 2001;
terrorists to all mankind
came out of the shadows
from where they had been hiding
and made an attack
and left a lasting scar
on all of humanity,
that to this day still pains me
even now, 14 years on.

How could anyone do such a thing?
Why? Oh my god, why?
Who would think to do such a thing?
The innocent do not deserve to die!

I mourn the lost;
I am mindful of the loved ones
and the family members
who were left behind
and who still struggle
to live and to move on,
as if nothing happened;
I still believe that the entire world
is still understandably shell-shocked;
I have been to Ground Zero,
I have stood in the place
where the shadows of
the World Trade Center still remain,
and I can honestly say that being there
where so many people lost their lives
had a profound effect on me:
the new Freedom Tower
and the pools of remembrance
that are now in place of what was once there,
in memory of the indescribable tragedy
and the massacre that took place,
will always be to me
sacred and holy ground.

I have flashed back to that day
every year since 2001;
I have imagined myself where I was,
sitting in front of my TV,
watching the news reports
of the true American horror story unfold;
I have wished many times
that what happened on that day
could somehow have been prevented
by some miracle of heaven;
I have watched the echoes
and the repercussions of what happened
on that day spread and effect
everyone and every country around the world.

I am a man of many words,
but even I struggle to put into words
the sadness that I still feel
about all the people who died
in New York City,
at the Pentagon in Washington, D.C.,
in Virginia, in Pennsylvania,
and everybody who has lost their life since;
I am a man who believes
that things happen for a reason,
but I cannot, nor could I ever,
nor could anyone for that matter,
give me an acceptable justification
that would make my confusion
about the murders that were carried out
on that day in any way lessen;
no deplorable and horrific act of terrorism
like that which played out
in front of everybody
on the 11th of September, 2001,
to me could ever make sense;
I will never forget;
I will never allow the fallen to be forgotten;
I will always hold on to the memory
of my unforgettable brothers and sisters,
as I hold up my hand
and feel my heart beating in my chest;
I will always remember
the day that will always be known as 9/11.

9-11-poem

My Poem ‘Music-verse’

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

Before the download,
before the CD,
before the cassette tape,
before the vinyl;
before we were telling
the time of the day by sundial;
before the flute, before the drum;
before anyone ever had any thought
to what music of any kind was,
the music of nature has been playing on repeat –
lyrics, melodies, fast, slow,
deep, epic, uplifting, inspiring,
mystifying, electrifying,
amazing, permeating beats.

Before the first sunrise,
before the first drop of rain,
before the first primordial noise,
before the first feeling of pain,
before the first rumble of thunder,
before the first flash of lightning,
before the first father and mother,
there has been a song being sung
that the universe and all life within
will never stop singing.

The universe itself
and every star of every galaxy
are notes and vibrations
and echoes of light
of a vast and endless symphony;
the universe is like a turntable
and it is always spinning –
however, no matter how fast it is moving
and how fast life is rising and dying,
we all go with the revolution
of the cycle of life,
and we do not ever stop to think
that we should be in any way dizzy.

Humanity has known
that it has been making its own music
from the second that the first man and woman
put their hands up to each others chests
and felt each others hearts beating
and drumming like an earthquake;
humanity has been hearing music
ever since they heard
the first distant roar of a wild animal;
life has been sending out waves
since the creation of the universe,
and Earth is one world of many
where things happen every second
that we would call miracles;
dreams, art, birth, creation,
death by supernova –
the microscopic and the macroscopic events
that have shaped everything,
and which continue to reshape
the observable and the unseen universe,
is the music of all life
of our music-verse.

My Poem ‘Cherokee’

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

Every group of indigenous people,
from every country and continent
around the world –
within their history,
within their teachings,
lies a deep-seeded belief
and a connection with the world,
as well as a bridge to use
to understand the importance of life and death:
both the Aboriginal people of Australia
and the Native American Indians and their tribes
have always known that the planet that is our home
has a name, an identity, and a spirit all of its own,
and they have always seen and considered
the Earth that we all walk on
as if it were the skin of an astral being,
and that there are places that are sacred
and need to be protected – so that,
like so many places of natural beauty
that have been lost, there are places
that will always remain
as they are meant to be and unscarred.

There were no greater storytellers,
there were no greater warriors,
there were no greater teachers,
there were and there are no greater
people who remember their inspiring ancestors,
than the Native Indians of North America –
everything that I have been told,
and everything that I have learned,
has been a revelation to me –
and, to me and to lots of people,
I would point to my fascination with them
and to their amazing and timeless culture
as the source from which from every question
I have received an infinite number of answers.

Since the dawn of humanity,
since the moment when
the first of all of our ancestors began to believe
in what they could feel was out there,
but that which they could not see –
the many tribes and cultures that have risen
have believed in a greater divine higher-power
that seeks to communicate a meaning
and a way of life that can be discovered at any time –
even though it may sometimes appear hidden.

The traditions, totems, dreams, thoughts, emotions,
that indigenous cultures teach us to be mindful of –
the tribes that believe that the stars of the sky
are the eyes of our ancestors
watching over us from above;
mountains, monuments, deserts, valleys,
even to this day and always,
are places and trails to some people
who believe that there are some things
and some people who must never be forgotten;
spirit-guides, animal-guides,
are said to be all around us –
and when we dream, Native American people
teach that Earth and its people
share a constant dialogue of language
and inter-connected communication.

Everybody alive shares ties
with the first tribe
that made that first journey
and took those first epic steps
that to them must have felt
as if they were on a star trek
in search of who they were;
everybody of the modern world
shares traits with whom it was
who struggled to get us all
to where we are now –
even though the faces of those first people
have long-since disappeared into history,
in each of our cells and our DNA
there are important and integral lines
of their timeless poetry;
everybody at some time has felt a presence
with them in the dark;
everybody must never forget where we all came from,
and we must all never forget
that to understand what we do not know
about the life we all have, knowing who we is the key:
that is why I relate,
and that is why I subscribe in every way,
to the teachings and to the customs,
and to the insightful and the divine wisdom
of respect for all life of the Cherokee.

My Poem ‘Unlimited Data’

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

The world is constantly buzzing
like a bee-hive;
the planet is beating
every second of every day
with the speed of a rapid pulse;
the Earth has never been so active, nor alive;
humanity is constantly craving data
and information – and everybody, it seems,
constantly has this unquenchable thirst
to see, hear, and experience something,
anything, everything first:
because, to some people,
there is no time that matters more
than that which only happens once.

The most amazing thing about life
is that it is constantly changing;
the most incredible thing about the world
is that it is constantly evolving;
the most influential language
is the language of pictures and photographs;
the most powerful drive of a metropolis
is using and interpreting numbers
by using the natural and original enigma machine
that is the human brain to think and speak,
perhaps without even knowing that they know it,
the infinite dialect of maths.

It is incredible to me how far we have all come
in such a short space of time –
even in my lifetime,
humanity has pushed the boundaries of possibility
and has achieved epic advances in so many areas:
technological, philosophical, biological –
which so many of us have been blessed
to take advantage of and make them integral
and important parts of our lives;
we as a species expect things to happen instantaneously,
and we sometimes expect a reply to a question
to arrive as soon as it is asked –
and because there is so much knowledge
to be found by anybody at anytime,
answers no longer have anywhere to hide.

We are all a part of the repeating cycle
and frequency that governs everything,
that makes us who we are;
everybody biologically fits
into a pattern of behaviour –
and a part of that inbuilt and inherent design
is extreme adaptability;
no matter how much we think we know,
there is always more;
everybody is data-hungry, energy-hungry,
interest-hungry, and if we did not have
power and electricity
I could not tell you who we would all be.

Some things, in no time at all,
just become a way of life;
some things we completely rely on
in the modern age to be to us
a literal life-saver;
some things that we do we take for granted –
like the ability to push a simple switch
and turn on a light;
some things just become a necessity –
and I am sure that if you were
to ask a technologically-savvy
and internet literate
and always connected member of humanity,
the gift to them that keeps on giving
has to be the miracle, if you can get it,
of unlimited data.

My Poem ‘Sex’

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

The greatest thing about humanity,
the thing that excites me, inspires me,
drives me, thrills me, and always makes me happy,
is the thought of the infinite
and endless potential of everyone on Earth
to do and to be whoever and whatever they want to be;
no matter their background, skin colour, disposition, or sex –
man, woman, black, or white –
you can achieve what no one would expect;
you can work hard, and do what you love,
and be an inspiration to those who will see you
as a shining example to follow,
and who will want to emulate you,
stick a picture of you up on their wall,
and look at you as their hero.

The long-held misogynistic and sexist views,
opinions, and barriers, have for the most part
been replaced by role-models of both sexes to both sexes,
who give samples of wisdom and templates off possibility
that anyone can see and copy, if they want;
however, anyone who is looked upon as a star
in the eyes of someone else will tell
any budding emulator of their craft
that they first and foremost have to take their own path,
and try not to be too much of a carbon-copy of anyone,
because, as an artist will tell you,
the best art is one that is individual
and personal to the artist who creates it,
and if you just replicate a style, a voice,
a way of being, without your own spark of creativity
infused into the mix, whatever you do
will constantly be missing something:
your touch, your taste, your heart, your imagination,
and everything else that is vital,
that no one else could possibly bring.

Both men and women, of all ages,
can be writers, artists, teachers,
musicians, singers, politicians, magicians,
drivers, divers, astronauts, police officers,
entrepreneurs, builders, designers, chefs,
shop owners, hairdressers, presidents, prime ministers,
celebrities in their own right,
because they are capable
and because they have achieved something extraordinary –
because they felt like they could make a difference to the world,
and even the problems that they may envision
coming face to face with don’t feel too complex,
and as they get closer to the goals
that they and everyone sets themselves,
it will be like achieving something amazing in the best way you can:
by taking every opportunity to show the potential they have inside them,
and focusing, and working hard to steadily make the most
and appreciate every step.
The world can change in such a short period of time,
and what will happen next, and what people will achieve,
will have everything to do with what their heart desires,
and have next to nothing to do
with their colour, creed, upbringing, or sex.

My Poem ‘The Walking King’

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

I love walking. I have always loved walking.
I love discovering, I love exploring,
I love adapting; I love finding new ground;
I love trekking, and I happily would walk and keep going
until I could be counted among the lost and found.

When you walk, you see the world
and you get to take in its beauty;
when you walk, the depth of colour
and the exquisite detail that you can see stretches to infinity;
and the ecosystem that carries on regardless
of the sometimes pettiness of humanity, do not blink –
because to them they have an entire life
and a whole world of their own to survive in,
thrive in, and do the best that they can in,
and most of the time these self-contained worlds,
that occasionally overlap, are focused of a single goal
and an encompassing need to
maintain their species’ well-being.

When I walk, I see things, I hear things,
I think about things, I imagine things,
I feel things, that I would not anywhere else,
while doing anything else, and I feel transformed,
and I do not for a second want to stop feeling
or being the person I am,
because the thrill and the rush that galvanizes me
is more powerful than any drug,
and it is a natural instinct and magic
that comes from within us all,
as well as from our surroundings –
whether we are walking free and roaming
in the air of the countryside,
or in a park, or even along the streets
and pavements of a busy city.

If you love to walk, like me,
you will walk anywhere, at any time –
in the daylight, in the dark,
in the peaceful solitude of the wilderness,
in the noisy and chaotic motorway of a never-ending,
never-stopping, never abating living laboratory
of an energetic and energizing metropolis.

The call to be on your feet
is one that a walker, and a runner, cannot ignore,
and it may even wake them in the middle of the night
as they sleep soundly;
the importance and the gift to walk
is one that is primal, and runs deep;
sometimes we can act without having to think,
and walking is one of those things
that if we can we will do,
and under our own subconscious locomotion
we can achieve and maintain without at blink.

Those of us who can walk take it for granted;
those of us who can climb, go anywhere,
stand on a mountain, walk on the seafloor,
have the amazing gift to see and go to
every corner of every country and continent
on our wondrous and beautiful planet.

When I walk, I take in the temperature
and the touch of the air;
when I walk, I feel exhilarated,
as I witness the incredible, the unbelievable,
the fantastic, and the amazing;
when I walk, I am in my own world,
and I feel like I can go anywhere;
when I walk, the world truly comes alive,
and sometimes I cannot believe my eyes,
as I witness the endless cycle of a world in the making,
that I am a part of, and more often than not
when I walk, I love the feeling
of being a “Walking King”.

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My Poem ‘Human Condition’

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

Our existence can seem
like a raindrop on the infinite ocean of time;
our voice can sometimes seem
muted by a barrier of silence;
our life can sometimes feel
like we are standing behind an impassable line;
the universe can sometimes feel,
when you think about it,
too big to ever understand and too miraculous
and wonderful to just be seen and lived only once.

Birth and death are inextricably-linked;
life returns even to the scorched Earth
and the black ash of the remnants of a forest fire;
things can begin and end in a blink;
the universe’s ultimate power
is that it will go on and on,
and keep making and creating,
attracting and electrifying,
and being the source and the reason
that everything must transpire.

There are some people who believe
that humanity is the only intelligent life
in the entirety of the Milky Way galaxy,
and perhaps even the entire universe;
there are some people who believe
that after death follows rebirth;
there are some people who honour and worship
an idea and a way of life
that has been practiced for centuries;
there are some people who have claimed
to have seen things, and who claim to know things,
and have been deemed mad or crazy;
there are some people who believe
there is a definitive date for the end of the world;
there are some people who are capable of anything
in response to a single word.

Humanity is a singular, special, wonderful,
fascinating, and complex creation of life-
but in my opinion, it is not, will never be,
and has never been the most intelligent life,
nor the only life in the galaxy;
humanity has described itself in many ways,
and has believed itself to be many things
since we became free-thinking, and self-aware:
in stories, in legends, in monuments,
in countries, and in all languages,
in the form of music, art, and poetry;
and even though we like to think we have considered
and thought of every possibility of existence
there could ever possibly be,
there are dimensions of understanding
we all choose not to consider-
because they are too endless for us to dare.

Philosophers consider the who, the what, and the why;
doctors are the healers of our bodies and minds;
artists are the interpreters and magicians,
and the performers of the colours of the human soul;
astronomers are the watchers and observers
of the past, the present, and the future;
astronauts are the personification of freedom,
and boundless adventure, and a dream made real
that a man or a woman, without gravity, can fly;
a generous heart of someone special
is an example of the best of human-kind;
our wonder and awe at the sight of a sunset
is something truly magical;
our combined knowledge and constant ingenuity
is always going to be the most powerful,
intelligent, and interconnected computer.

We are all on a secret mission:
we all must do the best we can,
consider every possibility,
act on impulse,
love, laugh, see,
live every day with a dream and with hope,
and you will be among the brightest stars
of the human constellation,
and the perpetual life-force
of the Human Condition.