The Mark Hastings Experience – Episode #35: “Boyhood”

My Poem “The Poetry of Life”

Let the wind blow…
let the raindrops fall…
let the record show
and let it be known by all
that I love every moment
of every season of this wonderful
planet that we should all
worship and adore…
let the sun shine…
let the rainbows arc across the sky…
let the green ivy leaves
be graced by their seasonal red berries…
let new mandalas of colour
be created by fallen droplets
of oil upon the wet roads…
let people venture far and wide –
through forests and trees
and through dark clouds
to find out what is on the other side…
let things be what they are supposed to be…
let people do what comes naturally…
let the dreamers dream…
let the artists create…
let the waters of discontent evaporate…
let the children play…
let nature do what it does unapologetically:
breathe in and breathe out the poetry of life.

My Poem “Everything means something”

With every leaf that falls,
with every moment that passes,
with every word that is spoken,
each of us always want more:
more time with certain people,
more things to enjoy,
more experiences to one day recall,
more gifts of the life that we have been given –
because the world is not enough,
because the universe is constantly
changing and evolving,
and we all want to be there
when the next quantum leap
in something becomes an every day thing.

With every year that seemingly flies by,
I am reminded of just how precious
every word, every smile,
every touch, every look into the eye
of someone who matters to me is,
because what we have with people
has an end time –
not in an emotional sense,
but most definitely in a physical sense –
which is why as I get older I consider
people of significance to me
as if they were flowers,
butterflies, or fireflies,
because the indefinable colours
and the spark of life that makes
somebody who and what they are
transitions over time into
becoming something entirely different.

With every new season,
we see changes in colour,
we see changes in light,
we see changes in perspective,
and we see changes in
our perception of time:
as some people get older
a new day’s sunrise and a sunset
seemingly happens within
the blink of an eye of one another
and days can be experienced
as if they were minutes or hours –
which is why I believe now
more than ever what has been
told to me all my life:
never forget where you came from
nor what the cost was for you
to have who and what you have
in your life –
because, when you think of it,
everything means something.

My Poem “Back Up Plan”

It is always better to look forwards,
it is always better to look up,
it is always better to be hopeful and optimistic –
especially when the world around you
has become different and messed up…
it’s always better to focus on
the things in life that are good;
however, as everybody knows, the unexpected
is just waiting around the corner –
which is why it is not a bad idea
to be prudent and to save something
for a day and a time when you
are going to need some things
more than others…
it’s always better to have a contingency
plan in place just in case
reality seemingly is turned upside down –
like some sort of life-raft
that can help you if and when
you metaphorically, psychologically,
or perhaps physically feel like
you are about to drown…
it’s always better to look on
the bright side of life –
but, at the same time, everybody
has to realise that most things
in life are temporary, precious,
and can unfortunately be taken away;
which is why there are so many people
who plan for what might happen next,
what will happen next,
and what they may one day leave behind…
it’s always good to have something in reserve…
it’s always good to not use
all of something too quickly
and to find a way to make
something last…
it’s always good to make sure that
you don’t go too far beyond
a place that are not familiar with,
because until you know more
about something anchoring yourself to somewhere can be like having a life-line…
that is why it is good, if you can,
to always have a back up plan.

My Poem “The Ten Bells”

There is a repeating
and a constantly resounding phenomenon...
there is a moment of time
that recurs every few years...
there is a place where poet and inspiration
can be found, where things only feel
right and never wrong...
there is a moment like right now
when bells ring out, when angels sing -
when not even the devil
could illicit any kind of fear -
when and where the beauty
of the poetry of life reveals once again
that there is a reason for everything...
there is a season that returns -
like the waves of an ocean
that goes out and then comes back in...
there is a state of mind, body,
and spirit that never dies,
which resides within each of us
like a deep and unending well...
there is something that happens
which never changes,
that always rises back to the surface
to greet me, over and over,
like a poetic rhyme,
that has the power to compel me -
and it is at those moments
when I know without being told
that the bells of time
are ringing ten.