life

My Poem “The Virtual/Reality”

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

There used to be a clear
and present distinction
between the world of the real
and the reality of the virtual…
People used to be able to see
the truth of something
through the veil of the illusionary –
however, then illusionists became
better at presenting their craft
and more knowledgeable
about what motivated
the thoughts of a person’s mind
and what increased the beats
of a person’s heart,
and then it began to become
increasingly more harder
to see through the mirror
of reality that surrounds
everybody which constantly
reflects both the good and the bad
that a person observes about themselves
when they look at their own reflection.

The more that technology has advanced
the more elaborate illusions –
in all their many forms –
have become, and with every passing day
reality and fantasy have become
increasingly more indistinguishable
from one another…
in this day and age,
someone can put on a virtual reality headset,
they can open up an internet web browser,
and they can sign up to becoming
a participant and a player in a game –
however, without fully reading
the full extent of the terms
and the conditions by which
they may be bound to.

When a baby is born into this life
they are always unprepared
for what world awaits them…
when every child is growing up
they are always surrounded
by an abundance of messages,
pressures, and beacons of distraction
that are constantly interacting with,
and trying to influence,
their instincts, their choices,
and the actions that they will commit to…
when someone is transitioning
from being a beginner into becoming
a novice who knows the ropes
and all the rules of the world
and the society that they are tethered to
and which need to be adhered to,
while they are trying to figure out
who they want to be and what they want to do,
everybody is pulled in multiple directions,
by multiple people –
and it can take a long time before
someone realizes that the one person
who will feel the aftermath and the burden
of everything that they do is them,
and the greatest gift that someone
can possess is the ability
to be able to forgive themselves
and accept that they are a well-meaning,
maelstrom of both reason
and contradiction, human being, an avatar,
who, like everybody else,
does not have an accurate roadmap
telling them what to do
and when to do it.

At the heart of the complex is the simple,
and at the heart of the simple
is the complex…
in this day and age, everybody lives,
breathes, thinks, dreams, and feels
within a world tailored to their own
wants, needs, likes, and dislikes –
whether they know it or not –
that is as superficial
but as hard to break free of as
a machine-built matrix…
when it comes to choosing
which path to take, which reality is best,
everybody has to weigh up
with their heart, within their mind,
within their soul, what matters
the most to them: freedom? Or confinement?
knowledge? Or ignorance?
Fakery? Or the power of discovering
your true identity,
and seeing the code of interconnectivity
and learning to find the balance
needed to survive within,
and transition seamlessly
between, the ever changing
worlds of the virtual and the real.

My Poem “Being There”

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

Being there for someone
when they are in need
is sometimes all that
someone could wish for…
being that someone
on the other end of a line
that someone can talk to,
being that someone
who someone can turn to,
being that someone
who knows everything about
someone and who has seen
all the sides of someone’s personality
and who still chooses to see
and to believe in the best of them
is someone worth living for,
is someone worth fighting for,
and is perhaps someone
even worth dying for…
being there – somewhere, anywhere,
for someone, for anyone –
is a wonderful gift to bestow –
whether it be in mind,
in body, in spirit,
or in an artistic sense –
and the power of a person’s presence
should never be underestimated,
because there is rejuvenation to be felt,
there is hope to be found,
there is love to be cherished,
there is inspiration to be harnessed
simply by making a concerted effort
in some way, shape, or form,
to reach out and reciprocate
the act of beneficial benevolence
of being there for someone.

My Poem “Full Circle”

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

When you first start out
at doing something
you do not know just how
transformative what you
have chosen to do will be…
when you first start out
at doing anything
you are usually merely
dipping your toe into the ocean
of whatever new frontier
you are choosing explore…
when you first start out
looking for a reason
and an opportunity
to further develop
your new found pursuit
you usually try to practice
your art at every hour
of the day and the night
until whatever melody and rhythm
that you are attempting to play
with whatever instrument you have
at your disposal feels
and sounds just right.

When you are first starting out
and trying to figure out whether
whatever you have discovered
will be a short-term or a life-long
passion you usually have moments
when you start to question
everything about what something
means to you and why, and ultimately –
if something truly means
that much to you then you will
walk to the ends of the Earth
trying to find the end of the threads
that binds everything that makes
you who and what you are together.

When you first start creating art,
when you first start acting
on your instincts,
when you first start believing
that you can contribute something
to the tapestry of life on this
planet that is truly beautiful,
then you start to grow and become
something new at the same time
that you realize that
what you are actually doing
is walking a path that begins
and ends in the exact same place –
and when as you live longer
and as you see more of
life’s bigger picture
then you come to realize
that the universe, and the life
of everything and everybody,
is a journey that everybody takes
the long way round one big circle.

My Poem “The Underdog”

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

Underdogs are always underestimated –
however, in the same breath,
underdogs are also expected
to accomplish a sometimes almost
miraculous feat and overcome
every obstacle in their path…
underdogs are usually the ones
that a crowd of people gets behind
and roots for, because people
like the idea of being a participant
and a witness to a remarkable event
in a person’s life, their story,
their legend, their journey…
underdogs can sometimes appear
to have come from out of nowhere –
however everybody knows that someone
can only make a difference if
the right version of them shows up
and they put everything into
whatever they are doing…
an underdog is a rebel of the status quo…
an underdog is someone who does not know
when to lay down their sword
and keep their head low…
over the centuries history has recorded
the deeds and the words of underdogs
who answered a call to face an opponent
who towered above them in some way –
just like in the story of David and Goliath –
and it is because of these heroes,
and these icons of inspiration,
who chose to rise to the occasion
that they found themselves presented with,
that people all around the world
still to this day battle in arenas
of many kinds and sizes
and valiantly personify the importance
and the meaning of being an underdog.

My Poem “My Beautiful Muse”

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

You love me, I love you…
you inspire me, I inspire you…
we are each others’ world,
star, life, and moon…
Since the moment I met you
you have opened my eyes
to places and to things
that I never knew
but always hoped to be true.

I believe that our meeting
one another was no mere fluke –
because over the days, the months,
the weeks, the years
that we have known each other
and have been a part
of each others’ lives
I have discovered within you
and within myself gifts
and blessings that are hoped for
by the many but are only
found by the few.

When you share a love
as deep, as strong, as powerful,
as passionate, as phenomenal,
and as amazing as the one that we share
you want to do things
and you want to go to all the places
that lie on the borderline
between the worlds of the simple
and the complex,
and you want to leap into what you see,
what you hear, what you feel,
what you know, and what you
would rather die than to lose…
you and I live in a world of love,
and I will always love you,
because you are my life and my world,
my beautiful muse.

My Poem “Superpower”

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

The life of an artist
is not always easy…
the inspiration imbibed
by an artist is the combination
of a marathon of many steps
of a long journey…
an artist sometimes has to walk
a line between darkness and light…
relationships, experiences, loss,
the stories of other people
are a vital contributing factor
in how an artist will grow
and what an artist will choose to create…
the art of an artist is
a subjective perspective of life
that is neither wrong nor right.

The explosive power of an artist’s muse
is unparalleled and indescribable,
and when fully harnessed
the inspiration felt by an artist
can feel as amazing and invigorating
and as dangerous as holding
a stick of dynamite…
art is an obsession and it can be
as addictive as a drug,
and as intoxicating as love.

Love inspires art,
and art inspires love…
art can be seen below,
as well as above…
in my opinion, artists
are like superheroes
and the gift to be able
to make art is a miracle…
art can save people,
and artists who make art that matters
have a responsibility to instill
into their creations ideas
that will help other people dream
and achieve things in their life
that will flower and continue
to reinvigorate the gift
that is their inner light
and their ultimate source of power.

My Poem “Mnemonic”

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

When you live in the countryside
you get to see a lot of wildlife…
when you live in the city
you get to find many different
types of man-made art
just wanting to be discovered…
when you grow up surrounded by nature
you gain an appreciation of the power
of the green leaves of every tree,
the sound of the wind blowing
and singing its song
of equilibrium and peace,
and the exceptional beauty
of the vibrant colours of every flower…
when you grow up surrounded by
towering buildings, constant noise,
people, traffic, even from a young age
you have to quickly acquire
an innate knowledge and wisdom
to be able to remember so many signs
telling you what to do, when to do something,
and you have to adapt to so many moments
that sometimes test the limits
of your instincts.

Whether you live surrounded by
the green fields of the countryside
and you are already familiar
with the wonders to be found
while wandering down the sometimes
long and winding country lanes,
or whether you know how to get
from point A to point B
by using public transport
or by being quick-footed
through the always bustling
streets of f a big city –
when you are out and about
and living the life you are meant live
you must always remember
to make the most of what you
have learned and the skills
that make you the mnemonic human being
that you are and everybody is meant to be.

My Poem “The Idea Hunter”

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

No one knows where ideas come from
nor where ideas will lead…
no one knows what an idea will do
nor what it will be until it is free…
no one knows who will be
the originator of an idea –
however, once an idea becomes something
that can verbalized, physical and “real”,
then an idea has a tendency to spread
like wild fire until it is captured
and it morphs into a form
that can be easily described.

No one knows how an idea
will change the world…
no one knows how an idea
will change a person…
no one knows how ideas take on a life
of their own the way that they do,
but when they do run away with themselves
ideas can sometimes have the gift
of finding a way to scale over walls,
to penetrate through solid stone,
to lift people into the stratosphere,
to free people of their fears,
to colour a person’s dreams
with all the hues of the rainbow.

For as long as I have been alive –
especially since I have been
expressing myself through poetry –
I have been venturing to places,
I have been meeting people,
I have been climbing high,
I have been digging deep,
I have been an imbiber of life,
in awe of the universe of wonder
in which I am a constant idea hunter.

My Poem “Kids These Days’

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

Kids these days have never had it so good…
kids these days spend a lot of their time,
apparently, Tik-Toking along to their favourite songs,
Instagraming their favourite selfies,
streaming their favourite music videos
and commenting on the social media content
of so-called “influencers” who
have opinions that some young people
take noticed of and listen to
more so than even their parents,
and the majority of the interactions
that take place mostly happen
when sharing some Face Time
by using an app on their mobile-phones
that connects them over the internet
to their close-by and far away friends.

Kids these days are spoilt for choice
when it comes to choosing
what to watch, what to read,
and what they can do –
however, no matter the riches
at their fingertips, kids today
still never fail to arrive at moments
when they express that they feel bored
and that “there is nothing to do”.

Kids these days have got so much more
than what a kid growing up
in the 1980s or the 1990s
could ever have dreamed of –
however, as with every kind
of overabundance,
there is a danger that hides in plain
sight that kids these days
do not see until it is too late:
the false perspective that
appearances are what matter the most
and that you must occasionally
wear a mask to hide
the fear of nonconformity
that some kids and some adults
these days suffer through on
a regular basis.

It is sometimes hard to live
a happy life and to be accepting
of who you are in this modern
world of instant communication
and sharing of self-expression,
and it is easier now than ever
for people to attack others
and leave indelible scars
upon the psyche of innocent people
who just want to use their right
to express their feelings about something –
and unfortunately it is also easier than ever
to be made to feel isolated and alone
without anywhere to go
or anybody to turn to:
which is the dark side
of this constantly online world
that we live in.

I just hope that one day
we as a society will find a way
to demonstrate to the up-and-coming
generation that true happiness
lies in discovering how
individually special a person is
and that everybody can be
a truly valued member of the human race
by just being themselves
and by making the most of what they are born with
without judgment or alienation
because of how different they may be.

I just hope that the next generation of children
will learn to magnify and show
the best of what lies within them
and not dwell too longingly upon
what they have no control over –
especially sensitive adults and children
who live with insecurities
and things that they don’t like
about themselves,
and what they think about
morning, noon, and night –
and I just hope and pray
that one day the kids of tomorrow
will know a life free of
what some kids and some adults today
worry about and obsess over
every single day.

My Poem “A Stream of Starlight”

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

As I slept last night
I composed the poem of my life –
but when I woke up
and I opened my eyes
all the words and the imagery
that I dreamt about
disappeared and returned
to the world from whence
they came, locked away
deep inside where I can
never find again,
without form, without memory,
without words, without time…
each and every one of us
live every day of our lives
riding the waves and existing
in the wake of dreams
that are as wistful
and as ethereal as the rainbow
of colour that comprises
a stream of starlight.