Some stories will always remain
secret and unknown,
while other stories are familiar to many
because they were allowed
the freedom to be told -
however, then there are stories
that can only be told
when, where, and by whom
they are meant to be shared.
I believe that the stories I have told,
and will continue to tell in the future,
are mine to tell and need to be
written by my hand and in my voice…
I believe that the stories I have
of my life and my memories
are some of the most powerful,
and yet still unknown;
but one day even the stories
that I may never have envisioned
would not be known by anyone me,
and a small group of individuals,
will have their moment in the spotlight
and those people whom the stories
are about may be shocked to find out
who they really are has been exposed -
because sometimes the exposure of the truth
is a necessity and not a choice.
In the future, I will tell the world a story -
in fact, I will tell many stories -
about what I have done, where I have been,
and who I known throughout my life -
experiences, places, and people
who to me are infamous and in need
of being recognised and exposed
for who and what they really are…
in the past, there are versions of me
looking forwards and towards a future
that has not yet come to pass,
and past versions of me have no idea
what they will have to go through -
nor can they yet know how
this man in black made it to the other side
of the world of darkness they have had to traverse;
but one day all will be written,
all will be spoken, all will be shared,
and past, present, and future will collide,
and create an intense explosion
in the form of a flashback.
memories
My Poem “Fridge Magnets”
Each of us are sentimental
for the way things were,
for the places we have visited,
for the people we have met,
as we have lived our lives
and as we have experienced
one memorable moment after another,
and because we all want to remember
as much as we can about what we have seen,
where we have been, and whom we have known,
each of us always find a way to retain
a fragment of our journey through our lives
in the form of mementoes that we return home with
and place in places of prominence
where we can see them
and whenever we want to be reminded
of who we were, where we were, how we felt,
and with whom we shared our time with.
We are all sentimental about our relationships -
and some people are sometimes
seemingly so desperate to show others
just how lucky they are to have what they have,
and just how fortunate they are to be able
to go where, and to do what, they are able to -
because they seem to have this need
to share everything with everyone
and not leave anything for themselves…
each of us are sometimes guilty
of being so self-indulgent that we cannot see
that we may be causing more harm than good
by being so open about things
that need not be said, nor shown,
because not everyone has the same means
to be able to make their dreams a reality.
In this day and age of social media platforms,
and in this time of social pressure
to have what others have,
each of us sometimes feel forced
to have an opinion on something, or someone,
and then voice that opinion for all the world
to see, and to read, just because we can -
however without fear of any real world repercussions…
I sometimes find it hard to believe that I,
and many others like me,
used to live in world that was so different
and so much more simpler not that long ago -
at least, in retrospect, that is how it feels -
because I still remember a time
before the interconnected system
that we are all used to and rely on these days:
a time of telephones with wires which you had
to answer to know who was calling;
a time of letters and postcards
that had to be handwritten and sent with a stamp;
before that advent of electronic mail,
texts, and direct messages…
like I said before, each of us are incredibly sentimental -
at least I am and my generation is,
as well as the generation before;
however, I wonder whether the people of the future
will be as sentimental about things, about places,
about experiences, about people as I am -
because we have already seen synthetic life
and artificial intelligence become
more and more common and hidden plain sight,
and there is no knowing what the world of tomorrow
will look like, nor if people will one day
give up on face to face interactions
and seeing the truth and the beauty of nature
in real life, and now just on a screen.
Personally, I hope that the more that some things will change
the more that some things will always remain the same -
because though some things and some people
must evolve if they are to survive,
our world is what it is and what it has always been
because its population has taken great pains
to not forget who built what we have
and who is responsible for what we have accomplished,
what we have created, and what we can achieve
if we remember that we all have
the capacity to work together
and to share what we have with one another -
and one thing I hope never changes
is the reason why people love
buying things that they don’t need
but which they convince themselves
will always mean something profound to them:
the same reason why we cherish childhood drawings;
the same reason why we frame diplomas
and awards and hang them from our walls;
the same reason why some people keep
objects that only have a certain amount
of value and significance to us
because they remind us of something,
somewhere, or perhaps someone;
and the reason why we continue to take photographs
and attempt to capture moments in time;
and the reason why we buy symbols
in the form of fridge magnets
so that we can be reminded
of that which will continue
to be replayed within our mind,
as if we could return to where we were
when we bought them
just by looking at them and remembering.
My Poem “Dreams Come True”
As far back as I can remember,
I have always been a creator…
when I was younger,
I used to draw, I used to paint,
I used to use colour to express myself –
however, for some time now
I have used words and language
to paint a picture within someone’s mind
of what I see, what I believe, what I think about,
and what excites my imagination in such a way
that I am inspired to write about something
that I have never written before.
As far back as my memory goes,
I have always been someone who
can never stop asking questions
and looking for answers that I know
are there to be found –
like a detective, I have always believed
that if you keep going then every day
you will discover something new
that will further unveil a new layer
to life’s endless possibilities,
mysteries, secrets, and stories.
When I was younger,
I always gravitated towards,
and I was always spellbound by,
the characters that I saw in films and TV shows,
as well the songs that I heard on the radio
that all seemed to be conveying something
deep and profound about the human experience
that made me feel something akin to a spiritual awakening:
because what I saw, and what I heard,
touched and implanted something inside of me
that would take years to grow into
whatever it is that sustains me
and never stops inspiring me.
As far back as I can tell -
though I was not always as gifted
as I am these days at grasping the reasons
why things happen and why people do what they do –
I have always believed that
the best things in life are always
the things that make us happy
and fill us with joy and love,
and if we are lucky enough
to one day find certain people in the world
who are willing to take a chance on us,
and give us a little bit of their time,
to show them who we are
and what makes us different
from everyone else,
then anything is possible,
anything can happen,
and anything that can be imagined
can be made real and can change the way
that people perceive the world,
as well as the universe.
When I was a child, everything –
time in particular –
seemed to take forever to change;
however, these days it feels like
every moment seems to fly by
and I don’t get enough time
to take something for what it is,
or what it could be,
and see where it takes me,
because there is always
something else to do,
somewhere else to be,
and there is always news of someone else
who was there one minute
but who seemingly, in the blink of an eye,
left us without a word for the world to come.
As far back as any of us
can go back in our thoughts,
and as far back as any of us can sometimes
see echoes of what we have done,
where we have been,
and who we have known throughout our lives,
there is nothing that is more important, significant,
nor a more powerful part of our existence
than the fact that we get to live
and we are free to do
whatever we choose
with what we are gifted with
to make up our own minds about
what we want our future to be
and what we need to do to make
our words and our dreams come true.
My Poem “Sounds and Voices”
There are some sounds
and there are some voices
that for some reason
always stand out
above all others…
there are some sounds
and there are some voices that,
when we hear them,
are immediately able to transport us
within our minds to a particular place
and to a particular time…
there are some sounds
and there are some voices
that are like music to our ears,
because we can hear within
some sounds and some voices
something akin to magic -
because what we hear
can make us feel something
that we might not have felt before,
or remind us of what we once felt
at a point in our lives that seems
a long time ago, and far away from
where we now finds ourselves…
there are some sounds
and there are some voices
that are so unique and so timeless
that any imitation of them
could never hope to capture
why some sounds and some voices
will resonate in the same way
that they always will.
Composers have their own way of composing…
musicians have their preferred instrument
and their favourite style of playing…
singers have their own way of singing…
actors have their own method
when they are acting…
artists have their own process
when they are creating…
writers have their own reasons
why they write what they write,
as well as when and where they write -
and most of the time their ideas about
what they write about
seem to come to them
as if from out of nowhere,
as well as being a combination of
both the familiar and the new,
as if being repeated, remixed,
and remade from a different point of view.
Some sounds and some voices
stay with us all our lives…
some sounds and some voices never change,
even as we grow older…
some sounds and some voices
last longer than others
because they have something about them
that says more about their source
that can be definitively described…
some sounds and some voices
we return to time and again
because they fill us with joy,
happiness, hope, echoes of memories,
love, and experiences,
as well as recollections
of times of sadness, loss, grief,
and wishes that we could
return to somewhere,
to once again be with someone,
because we would give anything
to have more time to say
what we wish we had said
when we had the time to say it,
because there are some sounds
and there are some voices
that we could never forget.
My Poem “Writer’s Blood”
There are always things
that we want to talk about...
there are always things
that we want to keep to ourselves...
there are always fragments
of the past that return
and then are gone again
in the snap of a finger...
there are always people
who you want to forget about
but who come to mind
whenever we are alone
and wondering about life.
Within every moment of time
we all experience something
different and personal...
within every relationship
we all experience things that are both
wonderful and yet temporary...
within every day of our lives
we all learn from what came before -
even though we are still capable
of repeating the same mistakes of the past...
within every voice that we hear,
within every gaze that we share,
within every touch that we feel,
we all experience a transference
of understanding that may
take some time to fully
integrate itself into our psyche.
So much of life is remembered,
so much of life is forgotten...
only so much of who people are,
who people were,
can be captured physically
by using words and art -
because other people always want
to add their own ideas
of what made something
and what made someone
what they were...
so much of the world
has been remade
by humanity and by Earth itself
that there is no longer
an accurate representation
of what and how things used to be...
only so much can be retained -
but that is the sort of challenge
an artist lives for:
to make something
captured by their senses
endure long into the future,
to make something
that people genuinely love...
everything that we all live through
leaves a trace of itself -
just as everyone and everything
that once served as a source of inspiration
lives on within a writer's blood.
The Pathfinder: Home Movies
My Poem “Home Movies”
Ever since I was young,
capturing moments of time
with a camera has been important
to me and to my family -
especially to my amazing Dad:
who used to record home movies
of us when we used to go on family holidays
to Orlando, Florida,
in the United States of America...
when I was a boy,
my Dad used to take photos of us
whenever we would go somewhere together -
because to my Dad photographs
were like memories,
and because my Dad loved his family
and he loved sharing his life
with his adoring wife and his children
whenever he would look back upon
the joyous instances that he had captured
you could see in his eyes
what every second with us
meant to him.
Children grow up so fast...
families change,
especially when things happen
that are out of their control...
no matter how old someone is
everybody always daydreams of the past...
as we all move from place to place,
and as we all meet new people,
we all adapt and to wherever we are
and we all find ourselves
undertaking new roles -
and there are always things
that we hold on to
which always gives us a jolt of nostalgia
every time we hold them again:
perhaps something that we had
forgotten about that feels like
the piece of a puzzle
which reminds us of something
that once meant the world to us.
Family photos are both wonderful -
and yet bittersweet reminders
of who we were, where we were,
and with whom, once upon a time,
when things were different...
memorable songs are great to hear again -
but whenever you hear a certain song
playing somewhere, at some time,
everybody always has an emotional reaction,
and sometimes a particular song
can make you think of someone
you have lost but also someone
whose soul still feels close enough to touch.
The stories of things and people
often times outlast and endure
beyond those who they are about,
because everybody loves to be entertained
by the exploits and the adventures
of someone whose memory
and spirit is indelible
and sometimes tangible -
and there are times when
the image of something or someone
can say even more than
a thousand words about them could,
especially when someone who
is a natural storyteller shows
what and who meant the most to them
through whom they chose
to record and to remember
whenever they picked up a camera
and captured in every second
of their home movies.
Short story: “The Man in the Mirror” (2018) by Mark Hastings
My Poem “All the difference”
Even after all this time,
even after all those tears,
even after all the lies,
even after all the fears -
there it is: that which has always
been there for me to return to...
even after all the moments of heartbreak,
even after all the love that has been wasted,
even after all the lying faces,
even after all the secrets -
there they are: they who
know who and what they are,
no matter what facades
they currently choose to use...
even after all my heart has been through,
even after all the avenues of thought
my mind has gone down,
even after all the answers that I found
about what made others who they were -
there, more and more than ever before,
I see people who I used to know
showing me that I was once so
foolish to give them the gift of my trust,
and even though to them the past
is the past
I still have the same means to
access the memories of long ago
and remember what was said,
when, why, and with whom...
even after we all walk away
from something, someone, somewhere,
we always leave something behind,
we always leave an impression,
we always leave a shadow,
we always leave clues that can be used
to retrace our steps -
even those we thought had long since been erased;
we always return to what we knew,
we always return to who we knew,
we always return to where we knew -
however, when we ultimately do,
we always have an opportunity
to choose,
even if it is only retrospectively,
whether we would make the same
decisions again, and though
there is no definitive way to know
what would have happened
if different choices had been made,
it is still fascinating to wonder
how life would have panned out
if we had found something
we were looking for
when we were originally looking for it,
and we were able to say outloud:
"There it is" -
because one thing can always
make all the difference.
