infinite

My Poem ‘My Chikadee’

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

You save me every day,
my beautiful angel;
you make me feel
like I have never felt;
you give me everything
and if I could
I would give you anything,
because you are my world;
you and I share the same heart and soul,
and every time I tell that I love you
and you tell me that you love me
I feel so happy beyond content,
and I honestly believe
that at any moment
I am literally going to melt.

From sunrise to sunset,
from moon-climb and moonlight
until the sun shines again
in the blue sky above,
I promise to be there
for you whenever you need me –
because you are and you always will be
the angel of my life
who I will never stop thinking about –
and over and over again,
every second of every day,
I fall even deeper in love.

What we have is love never-ending;
what we give to one another
to me is more important
than the air that I am breathing;
what we have both found in each other
is dazzling and will forever be amazing;
what we both know is eternal
within each of us
is the music that comes out
from all of our hearts
that plays only for the one
we are meant to be with,
and every second that my heart sings out to you
I constantly never stop hearing
the beautiful voice of your heart’s calling.

No matter what happens around us,
I promise, my love, that our path is clear;
no matter what other people choose to obsess about,
I want you to always know that to me
you always will be the life and soul of my heart,
and since you first walked into my life
I have never been happier.

Nothing is more important than you and me;
I am yours, and you are my destiny;
no matter where we both are with each other,
as long as we are together
you and I will always be happy;
our bond is infinite;
our love is deep;
we are meant to be,
and I will always love you,
my beautiful Chikadee.

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My Poem ‘Infinite Stories’

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

There is no greater story
than a true story;
there is no greater true story
than the story of someone’s life;
there is no greater way
for an individual story
to touch another person’s heart
than to tell it true
and to see it run free;
there is no greater epic
than a death-defying survival
to stay alive.

We all have stories;
we all love stories;
we have meet each other
because we need to;
we all know someone
who has a story from their life
that is so amazing and incredible
it is almost unbelievable to believe
that it is even true.

Passengers on a plane,
passengers on a train,
strangers on a journey,
strangers on a trip,
who can truly be honest
about who they are,
because the only thing that they share
is the shortest of connections and history –
brief encounters, stories that matter,
short exchanges, instances of new changes;
new chapters, fresh banter;
a rush of endorphin’s;
marks of beauty,
like freckles on person’s skin.

Because life is constantly asking
something new of us all,
new stories are being made all the time;
because people are constantly meeting new people
life stories are constantly inter-twinning;
because the rain will always fall,
and the sun will always shine,
somewhere, everywhere,
the pen, the keys, the fingers of a storyteller
will always be writing.

New stories begin every second;
old stories continue and are shared
time after time, day after day –
as if they are once again brand new;
legends are made for us to find
that allow us to see things
in ways that we can understand;
for every story to be
there must be a me and a you.

For better, or for worse,
all of our true stories
are ours and no one else’s;
fortunately, or not,
all of our memories are ours –
our losses, our tears,
our smiles, our glories;
for the best, all of our living days
will one day be like grains of sand on a beach,
and like the countless stars of the universe,
and that is what makes them truly ours
and truly special;
for all of our collective spoken and recorded time,
everything and everybody will always be the reason,
the source, the microphone and the speaker,
not to mention the writer and the reader,
consequential and important
in sharing the world’s inspiring
infinite stories.

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 ‘The Mix Sense’

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

When you can’t see, you hear;
when you can’t hear, you feel;
when you can’t feel,
you can say everything
with a look and a tear;
when you can’t cry
and you cannot express,
the only thing that you can do
to bring you back to life
is to strip yourself down to your soul
and let all of you be revealed.

There are times to be modest,
and there are times to be wild;
there are times to revitalize and refresh,
and there are times to look in the mirror
and like the look of your own style;
there are times to breath,
and there are times to believe;
there are times to take an intermission;
there are times to feel absolutely wonderful,
as if you were an infinitely floating leaf.

Everybody has a sixth sense;
in all the universe,
there may be an infinite number
of incredible, indescribable,
and breathtaking senses
that we cannot yet give a first-hand account of;
anybody who can look out, see, watch,
and who can take notice of the differences
that they see happening all around them,
is using a power that unifies
every one of their senses
into a single sense – a sixth sense;
that is something to realize,
and to take note of,
but to not think too much about,
which you should imbue from
as much as you can
and feel it turn a page in the book of your mind,
as if you were experiencing
a moment of falling in love.

To me, love is a sense all on its own
which has infinite depths, layers,
and intensity to it
that you can’t ever remake
or attempt to clone;
at the core of the universe –
where all life, energy, light, time,
and meaning was born, will die,
and will come back to life, ad aeternum –
there is a constantly beating heart
sending out waves of change
throughout a multitude of dimensions of reality,
and there are some people who can sense
and feel these waves that echo
faster than the speed of light
and they can feel the changes
that take place all-around
and within themselves,
as they are made to see
what is right there
through a slightly obscured lens;
there are people who can stop time
and live an entire lifetime in a second in their mind,
however they sometimes miss the most important things
about life that make everything make sense.
All that is meant to be as-one
are what rise from the ocean of life
and stand out like a beautiful island
of infinite possibility –
which are like nothing else that you may see,
hear, taste, sense, touch anywhere else
in life’s incredible and infinite mix.

My Poem ‘Holographic’

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

Beyond what you see,
further than the horizon,
above the clouds,
above the trees,
in the art at the heart of the universe,
in the colours of the galaxy
that can only be seen from Earth with a telescope,
there is layer upon layer of light and colour –
particles of dust, laboratories of gas,
cocktails of elements,
when observed from a particular vantage-point
come together to make a picture
that is a piece of art
that has been millions of years in the making
that will slowly change over time
and evolve to be something else,
just as everything else must
that is connected to nature.

The things we see can sometimes be an illusion –
a hologram, a figment and a combination
of our vision and our imagination,
as well as our emotions,
and if you were to see the same thing
from a reversed-angle, looking back,
you would see a completely different picture
with radically different connotations.

Many things can be a trigger for great creativity;
many experiences can be spectacles
that can inspire great art;
many things must first happen in a poets life
for them to write epic poetry;
many life-changing infernos began burning
because of a well-time spark.

A face is always but a mask;
a book cover is but an entrance below
to a trove of treasure;
every planet with life
is a pearl of infinite complexity
in an ocean of dark;
a name is but a teaser
to something greater and deeper.

A library is a hive alive
with story-lovers, and story-tellers;
an art gallery is where those who
want to appreciate art and visual poetry
can go to be awestruck by a kindred spirit
that lived perhaps centuries before they were born;
everything has a story to it,
everyone has had to be a part of a journey
that may at times have been unpredictable and frenetic;
a market of any type is the best place
to see a snap-shot of an echo of something
that is primordially interstellar;
new artists rise with every new dawn;
everything that you catch with your eyes
is a layer of space and time
that exists in a universe
that when seen for all its components and projections
is fundamentally holographic.

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My Poem ‘Beautiful Extremes’

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

There is more happening
every nanosecond in the universe
than we could ever conceive
in a lifetime of imagining:
there is life emerging, evolving,
taking their first steps,
communicating, aspiring,
inventing, and understanding,
brand new concepts,
leaving the atmosphere of their planet,
seeking, meeting, interacting,
inspiring, believing,
knowing that they are not
the only intelligent life in their galaxy,
on a planet orbiting around a star,
existing with a purpose,
dreaming about other beings of life and light,
who are as inconceivable to us,
because we are in the dark about them
and who they are, as they are about us –
however, no matter how different we are from each other,
and no matter how we choose to express ourselves
in our own individual ways,
one thing unites everyone and everything in the universe,
and to all but who will be there at the end of all things,
and who will see the last few seconds
before everything starts again,
the knowledge of what it is that binds us all
will for now, and most likely for a few eons to come,
remain a tantalizing, compelling, inspiring,
driving, enlightening, fascinating, exciting, mystery.

The nature of planet Earth teaches us
that life will find a way to exist and thrive
in great extremes of environment,
even in a vacuum, even in a toxic soup,
even somewhere where the temperature is so low
and so past absolute zero that most things would die,
and even somewhere where a living thing
would spontaneously-combust
because the temperature is beyond
that of the hottest fire;
why things work out for some, but not for others,
is a constant cosmic question
that does not have a simple definitive answer,
because everything revolves around circumstance
and timing, and everything finding its match –
however, the meaning of life can be found
when you find the balance between what you have
and what you desire.

Believing in what we cannot see,
imagining what is impossible to imagine,
witnessing and remembering the light of what has been,
reading and interpreting the world and it’s moments
and years, like epic words and verses of poetry,
finding infinite connection, experiencing perfection,
holding in your hands, imagining in your mind,
feeling in your soul and in your heart,
that which is made in a place, and at a time,
is a miracle of beautiful extremes.

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My Poem ‘Away We Go’

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

I am like the future.
I am the unstoppable;
I am the indomitable;
I am the unquestionable;
I am as I have been
and always will be;
I am here; I am there;
I am the unforgettable;
I am the poet of the forest;
I am the walker of the world;
I am the observer and writer
of the wonders of every sphere;
I am the proof that there is a strength in enduring;
I am a believer and true storyteller of tales
and experiences that point to a shared destiny,
that includes, connects, and combines,
every person and every life that has ever lived,
or will be lived;
I am someone who has seen hope brighten the world,
and given someone else, and myself,
the reason to be something and someone beyond imagining;
I am someone of infinite capacity,
whose story will go on beyond this life,
and whose voice will forever echo
along with the story of the stars;
I am someone who trusts his feelings and his instincts,
and I know a good person and an amazing person when I meet them,
and I can tell by just hearing someone’s voice,
and by looking into someone’s eye,
what lies in their soul and what is important in their heart.

I am hopeful; I am human;
I have a view of the universe and of life
that will never stop being beautiful;
I have in my heart and in my life a love and a power
that I promise will burn brighter and longer
than all the days and the seasons of the sun –
however, I am not on my own in this world of mine,
I am not the only one who sees the world as I see it:
in fact, I have shared a spectacular experience
and vision with a great many of the people that I have met,
and I constantly hold on to what I know, what I feel,
and what I have seen, and what I see
when I am struck by the lightning of connection and inspiration.

There is always somewhere you have not been;
there is always things that you do not yet know;
there are things out there to be found
that not even every dreams in all eternity
could completely imagine;
there are thoughts and dreams that are so breathtaking and special
they can give you the wings to fly,
and with them we can all defy gravity and dance with nature…
and before you know it you are off doing what you only dreamed of doing;
and with nothing in our way to stop us,
it is literally a matter of away we go!

My Poem ‘My Space’

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

Some people find it hard to find their place;
some people thrive and are their most happy
when they are in their own space;
some people need total quiet to concentrate
and to work efficiently;
some people can work anywhere,
no matter the noise they are surrounded by –
some writers and artists like creating
in the sanctuary of their office or studio,
while others can easily write a thousand words
while sitting at a table in the middle of a busy cafe.

Some people feel at home on a beach;
some people feel at their best
when they are with someone somewhere that they can teach;
some people feel alive when they are behind the wheel of car;
some people feel their most comfortable
when they are sitting on their sofa watching films in the dark.

My place, my space, varies from day to day;
my face, my tastes, change as frequently as the weather;
my thoughts, my interests,can seem as if
I am choosing from an inspiration buffet;
when my stories, my worries, are the furthest thing from my mind,
the ease that which I move through the world
can seem as light, and as unbounded,
as that of the flight of a feather.

My life has been shaken up so many times,
I would almost call the answers to the questions
that I pose to myself about life
as insightful and meaningful as that of a Magic 8-ball;
my observations about the world
often feel like I am either celebrating, critiquing,
admonishing, or marveling in wonder
at the state of the human race;
instincts can sometimes feel to me
like I am talking and listening in
on a seven billion person conference call.

My natural way of being, acting,
feeling, breathing, seeing, thinking,
and the place where I find the deepest of meaning
and inspiration, is when I know that I have arrived
where I always know that this is my base,
and the infinite frontier that is my space.

My Poem ‘I wish’

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

I wish I could put into words what I am thinking,
I wish my poetry could truly reflect what I am dreaming;
I wish I could express in greater depth what I am feeling;
I wish I had a voice for song,
because if I did I would not stop singing.

I wish I could live in a bookstore;
I wish I could replay my memories
on a blank wall in front of me,
like a movie projector;
I wish I could breath underwater
and explore the seafloor;
I wish I could go back in time
to my first day of school when I was four.

I wish I could relive the best of my life
over and over again;
I wish I could go anywhere,
and be with anyone, any time;
I wish I could change myself between who I am now,
and who I was then;
I wish I could explore the universe
and not be afraid for a second at what I might find.

I wish I could play an instrument;
I wish I could make the dreams of the most deserving come true;
I wish I could go camping, and sleep under the sky
of an infinite field of stars,
with a glowing fire next to me,
without the need for a bed or a tent;
I wish I could be reciting these wishes,
and living these hopes with you;
I wish we could all find great, new,
hopeful ways to coexist;
I want only the best for you who is reading this-
that is what I wish.

My Poem ‘Constant Companion’

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

A best friend who is there
whenever you need them;
a tried and true way
that you can always rely on;
a gift that means more to you
than you could ever fully mention;
a constant companion,
who is the best person in the entire world you know,
and who keeps you in time with reality
like a pendulum.

A constant light;
a comfortable feeling;
a voice that keeps you talking
until way after midnight;
a face you can turn to in your hour of need
that you can’t stop remembering.

An infinite moment that you want to return to
and forever exist in;
a time shared beyond compare;
a kindred soul, like that of a twin;
a place you can go back to
when you think you are nowhere.

A person who is a part of you;
a constant gravity in your life
stronger than the Earth or the sun;
the reason you are who you are,
and why you do what you do;
you who are always there-
my constant companion.