life

My Poem ‘No comparison’

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

I’ve walked the Earth…
I’ve searched the stars…
I’ve been waiting to be
with you all my life…
I’ve seen love in the eyes of others –
but I have never seen a love
as breathtaking as ours.

It began before we met…
it started when our heart’s
first began beating…
it started when we were born
of our parents under the sunlight
that constantly shines down
upon our beautiful planet…
it all began before even
the first birds began tweeting.

You and I, me and you –
we are one of a kind,
we are unbelievably special…
we make new music together
every time we speak…
we fall in love with each other
over and over again…
we would not be the same people
without each other,
nor would we be as happy as can be…
we are one and the same,
and that is something
that could only we could ever understand.

It’s because of you
that my heart feels like
it is beating a thousand times a second…
it’s because of you
that nothing could ever compare…
it’s because of you
that I believe that for each
and every one of us God has a plan…
it’s because of you
that I look at your picture
at all hours of the day
and I dream of being with you
over and over again
within every timeless moment that I stare.

I have never loved anyone like I love you…
I have never thanked God more for anything
than I do when I thank him for you…
you have been the most beautiful to me
since the first picture that I saw of you…
because you are my passion,
because you are my obsession,
because you are my addiction,
because in all the world,
because on all the planets
that circle those distant lights of perfection,
there is nothing and no one
as gorgeous, nor as amazing, as you…
because, Melissa, to me, to you,
there is no comparison.

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My Poem ‘The devil is in the details’

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

When god smiles, rejoice…
when the devil smiles, run…
when angels save a life,
sing with all your voice…
when demons possess someone,
the only weapon against them
is to pray and summon
the light of heaven
to drive them back to hell
from where they are supposed to be
imprisoned, and fight the fear
of an endless night with hope
like that of sunlight.

When we think of hell
we think of flames…
when we think of heaven
we think of unwavering faith…
when we think of the devil
we think of evil…
when we think of god
we think of love.

Day and night, light and dark, good and bad –
an entire universe in-balance with itself,
that occasionally becomes imbalanced, by design;
just as every story has two sides to it,
what every story also has is a middle-ground –
a ‘grey state’ that exists
between every word of every line;
everything and everyone has a purpose –
some people have to dance with the devil
in order to get through life;
everything and everyone sometimes has to fight,
but you can rest assured that whenever you need one
there will always be an angel
in your corner and by your side.

When a single beam of light
passes through a seemingly-transparent prism of glass,
that single flash transforms
into a spectrum of many colours –
the same layers of reality
that the entire world is made up of,
from the most super-giant of stars
to the smallest particles of ash –
and when you see that rainbow
you are seeing the pigment
of everything and everyone
in the universe’s skin and eye-colour.

Questions beg for answers –
however, even fallen angels know
that some things are sometimes best left unsaid;
there would be no life
if there were not also temptation –
however, everybody has to learn a lesson
about the true meaning of life,
though some lessons
you can only learn the meaning of
before you rise and leave your body behind
to lie in peace in its last bed.

Light began everything…
darkness will always exist –
it must according to divine will…
finding an equilibrium with all things
and with all people is all about living…
just as god is in the details of everything,
so is the devil.

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My Poem ‘I live for him’

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

Our life has a meaning…
we live for a reason…
nothing can stop us
from fulfilling our destiny –
not even dying…
we should never stop hoping
and believing in the power
of god and heaven –
and there is no better example,
nor a more shining star
of a blessed and saved angel,
that I have ever heard of
than that of the story
of Isabella “Izzie” Cochran…

Izzie died, Izzie went to heaven –
Izzie was with Jesus the entire time,
and she was returned to life
and to the arms of her loving family,
because it was not her time
to live among the angels
and stay in the presence of the divine,
because she has a life-long purpose
to spread the word of the one
who watches over all of us,
and to be a reason for others
to believe in miracles.

Blessings can come as profound surprises…
prophecies can be played out
when you least expect them to be…
one person can bring together a world divided…
it is amazing who you can see
when you look into infinity
and a single star guides you
to the place and to the person
where and with whom you are meant to be.

There is only so much that can be written…
there is only so much that can be shared…
there is only so much that can be understood
about our reason to be here
on Earth as a child of heaven…
there is only so much in life that we can all take –
however, as the bible teaches us,
we are all only given that which we are able to bear.

It is incredibly inspiring,
it is spiritually reinvigorating,
it is a life-redefining reminder
to never stop believing,
it is beyond imagining
to have been given a gift
and to know with all your heart
that the love that binds
each and every-one throughout creation
is the reason why children are born,
why the world keeps turning,
why we are given what we are given,
and why the beautiful gift
who is Izabella “Izzie” Cochran
died and was brought back to life…
because her purpose –
that which Jesus told her
when she saw him
next to a white horse in heaven –
was to live and to live for him.

My Poem ‘A new leaf’

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

A new season brings new colours;
a new season brings new flowers;
a new forest brings new trees;
a new burst of sunlight
brings alive new leaves.

A summer’s day is filled with energy;
a summer evening is filled with sparkling stars;
a summer afternoon is filled with beautiful serenity;
a summer’s morning is filled with the most intense
and overwhelming explosion of natural light –
especially at the moment of sunrise
when the sun expels the dark.

Summer walks… summer music…
summer waterfalls… summer epics…
summer breeze… summer shades…
summer peace… summer feelings,
emotions and memories that will never fade.

Every season brings new things
into the mix of life on Earth;
every person is like a planet –
everything in the universe shares something
immutable from birth;
every time we think we have seen everything
something new always shows its face;
every moment is fleeting, precious,
and goes by so fast –
just ask an astronaut looking back at all of us
as they orbit high-above in space.

Just imagine if there was no time
to be bound to any longer…
just imagine if you no longer knew how old you were –
you would always be the same age
and never get any older…
just imagine if your time was yours
to do with what you may…
just imagine if there were no clocks,
no watches, no calendars…
then every life and every one
would live every day as if it were an endless day.

A new shirt…
a new adventure…
a new intake of something to quench your thirst…
a new sense of self-worth…
a new page… a new dream…
a new stage… a new new air to breath in,
heralded by the sight and the prospect
of a new leaf.

My Poem ‘Intro’

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An entrance, an introduction,
an opening, a beginning…
where to begin is seldom an option,
what to do when you start something
is like being a knight
standing nose-to-nose
with a fire-breathing dragon…
most of the time
we enter something
in the middle of a story –
we mostly never come into something
at the very beginning,
nor at the absolute end –
however, we are always equipped
with all that we need
when we first enter into the world,
and it is only as time goes by
do we learn and pick up
the implements and the defenses
that we require to save us
from getting struck down
or devastatingly hurt.

Everybody’s life is an epic adventure.
In times gone by,
heroes heard the calling
that they had been waiting for all their lives
as if it were as distinctive and alluring
as that of the call of a song-bird.
Whether a cowboy or an outlaw
in the old-west of America,
or an astronaut on the cusp
of the final frontier,
the boundless unknown of a wild open space
holds the potential
of fulfilling a life and a dream come true
that constantly brings a smile to the face
of those who live for the spark
that dwells where the land leaves no trace.

Most people are first exposed
to other worlds through stories;
most people first feel
the touch of the divine
when the veil of heaven
falls right in front of them;
most people can only believe
what they can see;
most people are not truly
awake to the world
until they have been fully awoken.

The best of things
begin with an insatiable sound:
a beat, a melody, a voice, a keystroke –
the contact of two separate things
connecting and intertwining;
there is nothing as jaw-dropping
as seeing a lightning-storm happening
in the dark clouds above
that looks so beyond understanding
and like something that only God
could be the reason for,
because it is so breathtaking;
the first things of anything
are always the ingredients
and the building-blocks that will grow
like the snowflakes that settle
and cover a mountain-top with snow.
You may be young,
you may be old,
you may think that you know
all that there is to know –
but, believe me,
everything that has happened up to you
until now was nothing but the intro.

My Poem ‘Vampire State of Mind’

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

What makes a vampire a Vampire
is all in the blood…
what drives a vampire
and what a vampire dreams about
would send shivers down a human spine
and strike fear into the heart of a man
and freeze their blood faster than
a river that runs still
under the sky of winter moonlight.

When the darkness falls,
and the stars above reveal themselves,
that is when the creatures of night-mares rise
and are filled with over-flowing power
and revitalized health
that feeds their hunger
just as much as that which they crave,
and it is then when nothing and no-one is safe
from the blood-drunk
who are in search of fresh prey –
and if your neck does have the misfortune
to come close to the sharp fangs of a Vampire
then say a prayer to god as fast as you can
before you sadly expire.

Stories have been told for centuries…
Vampires of all names
have risen from their coffins after-dark…
there is an allure for some people,
and there is an aura that surrounds
those who find peace
kindling the miracle gift
that is life’s spark.

A lust for life…
an endless thirst…
an aversion to sunlight…
a vocabulary of other-worldly words…
an understanding that death
is just another word for transformation…
a dance with the devil…
a passion and an obsession…
a secret desire to be the master
over another’s fate and will.

A vampire is of a time…
a vampire is eternal…
a vampire can only live if others die…
a vampire’s spirit is the most indomitable…
a vampire drinks blood as if it were red wine…
a vampire constantly walks the twilight line…
a vampire will always find a way to survive…
there are those who are not actual Vampires,
but who share many Vampire-like attributes,
and who have, what some may call,
a Vampire state of mind.

My Poem ‘The Matador’

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

I have always wondered
what goes through a Matador’s mind
when he is standing in a bull-ring
and a bull is running towards him
completely intoxicated,
incensed, and blood-blind…
they can’t move, they can’t run…
they have countless people
sitting in a crowd all-around and above,
and every second their heart is beating
so fast that they feel like
they are standing in the centre
of a mist of blood –
who would not be scared?
how could anyone in their right mind
not feel fear when a huge animal
with big horns is running at full-speed
directly at you?
How could anyone not scream or swear?
How could anyone, why would anyone,
choose to do what they do
knowing that one day there
may come a day when the bull
might decide your fate for you?

It is all about respect…
it is all about understanding…
it is all about being your gods-honest best…
it is all about acting without thinking…
it is all about giving yourself
over to your instincts…
it is all about participating in a dance…
it is all about misdirecting, entertaining,
facing something, and being a part of something
that feels almost mythic…
it is all about going into a trance
and seeing a million things happening
all-at-once from a single glance…
and miraculously the matador moves,
the matador survives,
the matador is not pierced by the bulls horns,
nor trampled on by the bulls heavy hoofs…
the matador lives to fight another day,
while the bull awakes as if it has just
been awaken by the new days rays of sunlight.

The matador was born to do what he does…
the matador does what he does
to feed the hunger deep inside him…
this matador was definitely born
under the constellation of Taurus…
the matador does not hate the bull in any way –
he knows that he must be
who he was always meant to be,
and fulfill his destiny…
he knows that he must roll the dice
and use his ‘Capote de paseo’ cape
so as to play and win.

The matador does not do what he does
for fame, for fortune, or for applause –
the matador does what he does
because the bull is his life
and his life is the bull…
he does what he does,
he dresses himself in his suit of light
because to him he is acting out god’s will…
he does what he does because he is The Matador.

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My Poem ‘Analog’

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

The world is like a ticking clock…
the universe is the most breathtaking
and complex time-piece…
the Earth is far more than
a green and blue planet
of trees, oceans, and rock…
life is a monument
and an unfinished puzzle
of an infinite number of pieces.

All worlds turn silently in a vacuum…
all life is unique…
all explosions create a plume…
all things have the ability to speak…
nothing is by accident…
every song is the offspring
of the trinity of a musical artist:
heart, mind, and soul…
all music is like a thing of magic…
the random and the unexpected
is what makes life feel
ever the more real…
sometimes the more unmarked
and the more perfect something appears
the more fake it can seem…
sometimes the more you add to something
the more that you take away from it…
sometimes the more you dream about something
the more that you build a bridge
between the imaginary and the seen,
and that is when something phenomenal begins
like a tempest of energy behind your eye-lids.

We all share, and we all receive…
we all upload, and we all download…
we all like our freedom,
and we like to be loyal in our own way
and return home to the place
and to the people we love…
we all think… we all breathe…
we all code… we all have our very own
introduction, life, story, and epilogue…
sometimes the best things in life
happen when you embrace
the unedited version of something,
and to me there are fewer things purer
than those that can be enjoyed in analog.

My Poem ‘The Purple Flame’

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

The Purple flame, the purple prince,
the purple reign, the purple spirit,
the purple light, the purple love,
the purple sight, the purple angel
who now flies free like a dove…
the purple revolutionary,
the soul, the purple poet, the purple poetry,
the purple energy flow,
the purple art, the purple artist,
the purple icon, the purple tempest…
we are all going to be basking in your glow
today and for all of the days of tomorrow…
I am imagining you right now
racing down a highway in heaven
with David Bowie and John Lennon
in a little red Corvette
against the backdrop of a purple sunset,
wearing a raspberry-coloured beret,
on your way to a place
where there is an ocean of inspiration
that is constantly being remade
by the diamond and pearl-like
droplets of purple rain.

You have left us,
but you are still here…
you have blessed us,
and we will remember you
every second that we hear
your transcendent music,
as we shed a tear…
you may be far away now,
but your message of love
still echoes all around the world…
you must be looking back at us now
through the clouds
and smiling to yourself
because you know that the magical gift of music
that you were a master of
is one of the universe’s must powerful cures.

The purple bird…
the purple fire…
the purple star…
the purple flower…
the purple dust…
the purple pulse that will always
flow back and forth through our veins
from our feet to our brains…
the purple night…
the purple day…
the purple life that we will always cherish
and we will always be in-awe of…
of the one of a kind prince of the purple flame.

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My Poem ‘The Haunting of 14 Yucca Drive’

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

There once was a girl called “Shelby”,
Who came from a family who were not poor
But did not have a lot of money…
Shelby liked dolls,
Shelby liked teddy bears…
Shelby liked dogs,
Shelby never went to sleep at night
Without first saying her prayers.

When she was alive
Shelby was the happiest girl
You could ever want to meet
And was never seen
To ever frown or cry,
Shelby was always laughing and smiling –
However after she died
Shelby hardly said a word to anyone
And just used to walk in silence
from room to room
Through her old house at 14 Yucca Drive.

Dead, just as she was when she was alive,
Shelby was sweet and kind;
Even though she could
Only be seen most of the time
By animals and children
Shelby was always there
And could make her living best-friend
“Hailie” laugh on a dime.

The Dial family who now lived at 14 Yucca Drive
Always knew that their house had something about it –
as if it was haunted –
It was just one of those houses that
Just had that spooky vibe…
Hailie could see Shelby,
And so could the family dogs, Snuggles,
Moo Moo, Bella, and Gracie –
Bella could often be seen
looking up to a seemingly empty wall,
When in fact she was actually being
Petted by Shelby from her nose to her tail.

Shelby’s story is a sad one…
Shelby’s life as she knew it
As a happy little girl
Ended one sunny afternoon
When she ran out in front of a truck
On State-line Road…
The truck driver managed
To slam on his breaks,
But Shelby was hit just hard enough
To send her flying to the ground
Where she lay out-cold
Without even a single broken bone.

Shelby died,
Shelby went to sleep…
And when she awoke
It was as if she had just
Woken up from a nap –
Shelby had no idea
What had happened to her
Nor how much time had passed…
But slowly but surely
Shelby realized that years had gone by –
Shelby’s family eventually sold up and moved away –
Even when Shelby was given
Her one-way ticket to heaven,
She said “no thank you”
And told the angel who came to her
That she wanted to stay.

So Shelby stayed on Earth
And she remained the girl she was
Wearing the same clothes
She was wearing when she died
For years – sometimes she could be seen
By sensitive adults, as well as by
Animals and imaginative children –
But for the most part
Shelby spent most of her time
Remembering her life
When she was alive,
And hoping one day
To find the one who could help her
Move on from her sadness
And free her from her
accidental Haunting of 14 Yucca Drive.

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