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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.

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My Poem “Like a Moth to a Flame”

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

I am the moth
and you are the flame,
I have a fever
and you are to blame…
I write poetry
as if I were spinning silk,
and you are my muse
and the angel to whom
I pledge my undying love to
and I always will…
I have been drawn to you
since I first saw the perfection
of your face and the ethereal fire
of magic in your eyes,
and to me you have always been
and you always be the wolf of my heart
that can never be tamed
but who needs to be reminded of
just how amazing you are
and the reasons why
I will never look away from you
or ever go leave your side –
because I am in awe of you
morning, noon, and night
like a moth to the flame of firelight.

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.

My Poem “Multicolored”

Mark Hastings life, music, Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Everybody is an individual,
a person, a spectrum of many colours
throughout their life…
no one can help what body they are born into…
everybody constantly hopes to be able
to one day express themselves
in the way that they want to
without feeling abnormal and as if
who they are on the outside
is not meant to fit in with
how the world is, how it is meant to be,
and how it is meant to look…
no one has the right to be able
to tell anyone that they cannot
be who and what they want to be.

Music is life, life is music –
and people in all their many colours
and with all their individualistic
facets are who make the music of life
as rich as it is, and without all
the many pioneers of individualism
and the proponents of staying true
to what you believe
then the world as we know it would not exist.

The best of humanity, the icons of history
who will be revered forever,
the ground-breakers who knew
even before they learned how to talk
that they were special, different,
anomalous, and exceptional
because they saw the world
and the question posed to them
without the jadedness of a dark cloud
of preconceptions hanging over them –
they are the ones who have always been
responsible for giving our world
the gift of pure inspiration,
ingenuity, and innovation
in the many levels of every day life
that different people live upon.

The best stories ever written
are of extraordinary people
overcoming a stereotypical boundary
that ultimately leads everybody
who learns of their story
to be inspired and choose to emulate them
and follow in their footsteps…
I believe that if you are someone
who is “different” from everybody else
then you should feel proud…
monsters, trolls, and bullies are different
and they are treated differently –
which is why people who suffer
from being singled out
often plague others with the same toxicity
as they are daily exposed to.

In my opinion, if you are different
from everybody else then
you truly are “special”
in every sense of the word –
and I have always believed that
when you embrace you own
individual eccentricities
then you may find that you share
more with other people around the world
who already know who and what they are
and who choose to let the light of their
multicolored soul shine like
the constituents of depth
that give light to a star.

My Poem “Personal Heaven”

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

Heaven is a moment of time…
Heaven is a person of love and light…
Heaven is a song of truth that
touches your heart as well as your mind…
Heaven is a source of passion and inspiration
that artists constantly mine…
Heaven is a cloud of thoughts,
impulses, memories, and observations
that combine to make an internal
ocean of infinite depths
to which anybody can dive.

Heaven can be found within the soul of a person…
Heaven can be found in the way
that a someone makes you feel…
Heaven is whatever someone considers
to be breathtaking, magical,
wonderful, and beautiful.

Heaven is often not just
what someone can feel
but what in truth cannot be touched
or put into words…
Heaven is the world within you
that you discover over the course of your life
which stays with you and which unfolds
before you when you fall off
the precipice of this life
and you start living the life
within the world of your own personal heaven.

My Poem “Broad Daylight”

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

From the moment that sunlight touches something,
from the instant of sunrise
when the first waves of energy
crest above the horizon,
from the first golden halo
that shines like that of an angel’s light –
every day, everybody witnesses a miracle,
a new beginning, an encore, a beacon of truth,
a light as old as the universe,
a super-star in every sense of the word,
that gives everything and everybody on this planet
a means and a reason to be
who and what they want to be…
the sun that shines above us
is more powerful and more influential
than we sometimes realize…
the sun is so potent,
and yet so destructive in so many ways,
that when we are outside and we are incorporating
its energy into our biology –
similarly to how a plant uses the sun
to convert its light into chemical energy
by way of photosynthesis –
we sometimes have to protect our skin
and shield our eyes to protect our vision.

During the hours of moonlight
colour is at a premium
and the limited sources of light
that can be found
often make everything appear
as if they were straight out of a
black and white film or a photograph…
from morning to evening,
even on a cloudy afternoon,
the light of day is bright
and perfectly exemplifies
the beauty of nature in all its glory,
and the colour spectrum of the universe
truly comes into its own
and is able to display
so many things in so many ways.

Light is a means of survival…
light gives birth to life,
and life gives birth to light…
some people can live in some places
where it is dark and find contentment
surrounded by distant stars –
but the best time and the only time
to truly experience the kaleidoscope of life
is when you open your eyes
and the world opens up to you,
when there is blue sky above you,
when there are dreams coming true,
and when there is an unending
overabundance of broad daylight.

My Poem “The World keeps going”

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

Heading down the highway,
as a black and yellow Ford Mustang flies past me,
as a blue and white airplane flies overhead
and comes into a landing at a nearby airport,
as the early morning sky glows bright blue,
and as the early morning sun breaks through,
shines its light, and creates places
that glow and are warm, and also places
that are colder because they are cast in shadow…
There is such a hive of activity for such an early hour…
There is such a palpable momentum
in so many people’s actions…
There are so many examples to be seen
of people repeating the same cycle…
There are so many examples of people
acting without having to think…
There are so many early birds out and about…
There are so many people with a job to do…
There are so many people driven by a purpose…
There are so many people driven by a thirst…
There are so many people
compelled by the same energy
that drives everybody on Earth…
There are so many people with a gift…
There are so many people with a curse…
There are so many people with intentions,
plans, ideas, who embody
the same creative aspirations
as I believe God had when he created the universe…
The day has only just begun –
but already the travellers are already traveling,
the homeless living on the streets are already begging,
the shoppers are already shopping,
the readers are already reading,
the writers are already writing,
the actors are already acting,
parents are already looking after there children,
friends are already sharing their time with one another,
and the world is already doing
what the world does best, no matter the snow,
no matter the cold – like Groundhog Day:
the world keeps going.