The creation of anything, or anyone,
is not always as simple as it sounds…
art doesn’t spontaneously
emerge from out of nothing…
everything evolves because of experience -
what works, what’s compatible,
what makes it across the line,
what doesn’t work, what falls through the cracks,
for whatever reason;
however, sometimes there is no predicting
why one thing will endure over another…
the reason why something
becomes a trend to follow,
and why something else does not
leave as much of an impression and an impact,
sometimes has nothing to do
with anything other than time…
sometimes some things are not meant to be
appreciated at the time of their release
into the wider world and they are
only recognised for what they are long after
their voice has become an echo -
and sometimes, miraculously, something
can be given a new lease of life
and be rediscovered and rewarded
with what they were always entitled to…
there is more to life than what
could ever be read in a book,
and there is more to life than
anyone could ever know
from being told by someone else -
because life and people are complex,
and things such as a dreams,
or the spark of creativity,
are necessary to making life and people
what they are supposed to be…
in order to be able to make something
that wasn’t there before
you have got to be willing to go to the edge
of your understanding and allow yourself
to be carried away by the ideas
that capture your imagination
and can grow in strength to become
so powerful that they can seem to rival reality
and feel like magic…
every word of every spell and incantation
ever uttered by any storyteller and gatekeeper
is able to open more doors and more opportunities
for more things to come through
and make their presence known;
but in order to get something
sometimes you need to give beforehand,
and then the cycle of reciprocity continues,
over and over again, as life and people
repeatedly receive and then give back.
Mental health
My Poem “Forty Five”
Time certainly does fly -
one minute you are young and carefree,
and the next you find yourself looking in the mirror
and wondering whose reflection
it is that you now see;
because our time and the events of our life
sometimes feel like something that happened
to someone else, somewhere else -
because what happens to us as we grow
and as we progress through the waves of change
that crash against us have a direct
and a profound impact upon us
in ways that sometimes only become
apparent years afterwards…
time is always temporary -
because every moment is unique
and sometimes only fragments can be found
that harken back to memories of experiences
remain to reflect upon and remind us
of the times of our past that always find a way
to endure in some form or another…
when we are young our birthdays
are the best days of our lives
and we look forward to them for many reasons;
however, as we get older, our birthdays
can feel more like milestones of our life’s journey
and quiet reminders that no matter
what we do we can never
undo what has been done -
and we are reminded to accept what we cannot change
and learn to appreciate who and what
still matters to us and gives meaning to us…
being a wiser man than I was,
and after going through what I have been through,
I am grateful for who I am, for what I am,
and for who and what I have in my life,
and I do not look back and think that I would change
that much from my past -
because I believe that those who were once
by my side are no longer with me for a reason,
and those who remain with me
have always been with me and always will be…
perhaps, one day, I will find myself wondering,
yet again, about who I am and how I came to be
who and what I have become
and I may have had a change of heart
and mind about what happened and why;
however, until then, I am happy to be here,
with whom I share my story with,
as I continue to wax lyrically and loudly
my belief in the power of poetry
and my ability to be a creative, productive,
optimistic and positive individual
and influence to everyone I know
and everyone I meet.
My Poem “The Line”
There are moments when we all stand
upon a line between two extremes -
a terminator between night and day,
a fulcrum of balance between order and chaos -
because there are moments when
we find ourselves removed from our lives,
removed of identity, removed of any knowledge
of who and what we are, who and what we were,
and who and what we are supposed to be;
and then follows the choice:
Which path to follow? Which route to take?
Which power within us to call upon?
Which fate to hear the voice of
and all them to dictate our destiny,
our future, our life going forwards?
And we are asked: what we would be willing
to sacrifice for what we want
and what we say we need above everything else.
It’s not always easy. It’s not always hard.
It’s not always possible to understand
how the choices of a single person
may affect the outcome of countless lives,
until you are already living in the reality you made
and are now looking back upon
how, when, where, and why you chose to do what you did.
Sometimes our choices are taken out of our hands;
sometimes our decisions are made
by others who believe they are meant
to have control over us;
sometimes our fall and our pull
towards the side and the energy
we feel the most seduced to
can feel as if it was always going
to happen and may have already happened,
and so much so that there was never any way
for us to change the course of inevitability.
We are at our most susceptible
to doing something wrong,
that at the time feels right,
when we at our most vulnerable -
and that is when and where questions are asked
and answers come quickly,
and so do actions that we may
one day wish to take back;
however, some things and some people
inevitably can never revert, nor return,
to how they once were
and we have to hone up to
the new state of affairs we may be
in some way responsible for.
Because each and every one of us -
from the bad to the good,
from the saint to the sinner,
from the faithful to the traitor -
have to go through so much throughout our lives
and each and every one of us at some point in time
must be reminded of the importance of sometimes
having to traverse what feels like a high wire
and proceed undeterred while walking
and finding ourselves veering one way or another
from the line of life that we have lived
before we found ourselves considering
the possibilities, the opportunities,
the consequences, and the rewards
of either staying upon the path of what we know
or embracing the allure of the unexpected
and putting your trust in the hope of the unknown.
Each and every one of us,
every day of our lives,
must be brave and resolute
every step of the way
that we take upon “the line”.
My Poem “A Journey Through Poetry”
Going back to the beginning
and rereading what I wrote
when I was just starting down
upon this journey of poetry of mine
and then comparing what I wrote
and who I was then to who I am now,
is always a fascinating endeavour,
because things are so different now
to how they were before -
as is the world around me,
as well as the world within me…
going back and remembering
what I was doing, what I was thinking,
and what it was that inspired me
to write what I did at a particular time
is sometimes like trying to preserve
a castle out of sand from being
engulfed by the waves of the tide;
however, sometimes, the ability to be able
to seemingly move through time
and be transported back to the when,
the where and to the why I was inspired to write
something that seemingly had to be written
can feel so effortless that it can almost feel
as if no time has passed since the spark of creativity
touched me and motivated me
to express what was happening, what it was,
or whom it was who was on my mind at that time…
going back to my memories, my thoughts,
my recollections, and my feelings about
something, or someone, from a long time ago
is sometimes somewhat harder to do
especially when you have tried your hardest
over the years to distance yourself from certain things
and thoughts about certain situations and people -
which is why going back in time,
even if only in a literary and poetically speaking sense
can be dangerous, perilous, and painful,
like trying to cross a minefield of explosives
that can cause considerable harm
and psychological damage as a result…
going back over what you remember about
something you created can be illuminating
and interesting in so many ways,
but in a fundamental way it is like trying to recall
the images and the details of a particular dream that you had -
but because dreams are more
ephemeral than memories are
and they do not weigh down upon
our emotional state as much,
our thoughts and feelings are much more
like psychological scars and are much harder
to move away from because they are based
upon experience and not speculation…
going back down the road
that brought me to where I am now,
and as I proceed I see flashes of insight
that shed light upon something I may have missed,
is something that I do cautiously
and in no way casually,
because I know who I am
and what and who will trigger me
into veering off down a mental path
and wondering whether I made the right decision
when presented with a crossroads of choice;
however, whenever I do choose to venture internally
within my own mind that has over time
become more and more dense
with the same thoughts, feelings, and memories
that always find a way to rise to the surface -
like trying to traverse the foliage of a rainforest -
I have over time learned to not linger too long
on the shadows of what and whom I sometimes find,
and I instead just keep proceeding upon
the path of my life and embrace
every step of my journey through poetry.
My Poem “Capture This”
So often in my life
I have been somewhere,
with someone, as well as alone,
when I have immediately understood
that I was witnessing something
that to me looked and felt extraordinary
in some way, shape, or form -
however, it was not until I became a poet
that I knew I had the skill set
to be able to put into words
and paint a picture with language
exactly what something in particular,
or someone in particular,
meant to me at a particular moment in time…
as time has gone by, some of the words
that I once used to describe something,
or someone, that seemed instantly amazing to me
have faded from memory -
like a photograph that has been
exposed to sunlight for too long -
and I have had to contend with
the fact that nothing remains
as they used to be forever,
because nature has a way of teaching all of us
that everything and everyone
has a purpose, a meaning,
and a reason for why they should be treated
as if it they are something unrepeatable,
unique, and a treasure like that of a rare find…
my heart has never ceased to want to
allow itself to live and breathe alongside
those of other likeminded souls,
but time and time again
my heart has been broken
and has had to repair itself
because the intentions of others were able
to override my own expectations and instincts
and lead me almost over a cliff…
my gift and my connection
to the universal muse has been able to
give me visions and dreams of places,
and my interpretation of the sound
of the orchestra of the cosmos
has allowed me to understand my place
in the grand scheme of things
when it comes to the reason why I am here -
and I must have had close to a million moments
in my time when I have seen something,
heard something, felt something,
and automatically picked up the means
to be able to carry out my destiny:
my innate ability to be able to
be witness to something and know
immediately in what way
I am going to capture it.
My Poem “In Echo and Reflection”
Whenever I see a photograph
of myself from childhood,
or whenever I hear my own voice
from decades past,
I am always reminded of how young I was,
I am always reminded of how untainted I was,
I am always reminded of how naive I was,
and I am always reminded of how much
I have changed, and also how much
I haven’t changed and will never change…
whenever I look back upon my own memories
I am always having to remind myself
that things might not have happened
exactly as I remember them happening -
because, no matter how good we think our memory is,
each of our memories and recollections
are always subject to our emotions -
and the farther away we are from
something that happened
the more that our perception of reality
becomes distorted and rewritten
with the version of our own internal narrative…
whenever I read something that I wrote
from years ago, when I was younger
and more inclined to believe everything
and take everybody on face value,
I look back on recent events
when my view on something or someone
was challenged and subsequently changed as a result -
and that is when I realise how important
is it to stay in the moment,
but not forget why things are
the way that they are
and why things were never meant to be
different than how they turned out…
whenever I read something I wrote,
whenever my own words and my own actions
return to me in some way,
I remember the fact that the past
is constantly talking to the present,
just as the present talks to
and perhaps even influences the past
in more ways than we realise,
and I find myself not regretting anything that I have done -
because we are all creating and recreating
our own version of our life
which only we have control over…
whenever I hear others talk about me
in the third person,
I always wonder how and why others
see me as they do and what it is about me
that has stayed with them
and reminds them of me -
but then of course there are the things
and there are the people whom I have known
who might not have as glowing of an opinion
of me as they used to;
however, I have learned that it doesn’t matter
what someone who is no longer in your life
thinks about you,
because it is those people
who take the time to reach out to you
and who want nothing but the best for you
who give you what you need, when you need it;
and when it all comes down to it,
everything and everyone all sound different,
and everything and everyone look different,
whenever they are heard as an echo
or whenever they are seen in reflection.
My Poem “I Am Done”
I am done waiting
for things, for experiences,
for people, for answers…
I am done wasting my time
on what doesn’t matter,
and on those who can’t even lift a finger
to get in touch with me and others
for reasons that may never be made clear…
I am done worrying
about what never was
and what was never supposed to be…
I am done autocorrecting myself
for those who don’t seem to have learned
how to filter what they say
before they say it…
I am done giving people
the benefit of the doubt
to those who show by their actions and their inaction
what and who they really care about…
I am done with those people
who are like a weight around my neck,
who cannot accept that I don’t have a Time Machine
to go back and change the past…
I am done wondering
if and when I will get my heart’s desire,
because I believe that I have done too much,
I have seen too much, I have heard too much,
I have learned and I now know too much
to forget that the only way to find true happiness
is to live your life with a spirit of self-worth
and respect for yourself and for your loved ones,
because memories can only be made and shared
by those who show up when there is
a mutual need for the presence of one another…
I am done with the play of those who
just want to suck the life, the energy, the joy,
and the hope out of others
because they claim they deserve better
than what they have been given in life…
I am done with giving up -
and I will not be dragged down
into another level of the depths of darkness
or into another fight
by those who will never understand
that nothing changes
just because you choose to turn out the light…
I am sure that I am not the only one
who looks around the world and sees people
trying to get away with doing
whatever they want to do
without thinking about the repercussions,
and that is why I will never stop rebelling against
what I am told to believe -
and I do not apologise for saying
to those who may wish
to manipulate me in any way in the future:
I am done.
My Poem “Every Time is Different”
Sometimes the bad
can overshadow the good…
sometimes the happiest of times
can be forgotten about
because the darkness of hate
and disappointment can
make them sink beneath
the ocean of our memories
so deep that we almost feel
as if they never happened,
and were just a dream…
sometimes we focus too much on
who someone is to us in the present
that we have a hard time remembering
who someone was before -
when times were better -
because the pain of being hurt by someone
can transform the way that we see them;
heroes can become villains;
lovers can become users;
angels can become demons -
and nothing and no one can restore
the halo that once seemingly shone above
the head that now seemingly has horns…
sometimes a song that you once loved,
and used to use to share your affection for
with someone who you used to love,
you can come to hate -
because the way that a particular song
used to make you feel has changed in your mind
and in the way you feel about yourself and the world,
and you will try to make sure you never hear that song again;
but whenever you try to avoid
and forget something, or someone -
like a particular song, or a particular person -
undoubtedly that something, or that someone,
will find you and remind you that they
are still a part of you, and they always will be…
sometimes we all have to accept the fact,
and the reality, that we have no control
over what the universe will bring into our lives
and occasionally influence us with their spirit,
because that is the relationship that each of us have
with everything and everyone else
in existence, everywhere -
from the beginning to the end;
because no matter how many times
you do something, listen to something,
see someone, or hear a particular voice -
even if it is for the thousandth time -
each and every time it is always different.
My Poem “Just Their Look”
No matter what anyone says,
no matter how something appears,
how someone presents themselves
matters more than people might want to admit…
even when we are young,
we all have a certain image within our mind
of how we see ourselves
and how we may want others to see us…
some people dress in a certain way
because they want to emulate the appearance
and the fashion of someone whom they might revere and idolise…
we all have our favourite clothes
that, when we wear them, give us
a feeling of comfort, confidence,
and some people take a great deal of time
and pride in selecting what they are going to wear…
some people equate a particular outfit
to a suit of armour that a medieval knight
might have worn to protect themselves -
and although the attire that modern people,
as well as soldiers, wear today
may not be as encompassing,
nor as metallic, from head to toe,
the “armour” of a suit and tie,
or the colours and badges of a uniform,
can give someone that much needed
faith in their own abilities to be able
to do what they must…
what someone wears can affect
how someone acts…
what someone wears can affect
how someone speaks
and how someone is heard…
what someone wears can affect
the perception of people;
however, appearances can be,
and generally are, deceptive,
and should be treated as only
as the surface level of something,
as well as someone -
because everything and everyone
is more than how they portray themselves to be,
and most people are more than how they appear to others,
and for some people that is
how they get through life,
that is how they protect themselves
from all that is going on around them,
and that is how they have learned
to become a part of the society
that they find themselves within…
sometimes some people choose things deliberately,
and sometimes some people choose things
without knowing why they feel drawn to them -
because some things feel obligatory,
while some things just feel natural;
and what someone wears can be a good indicator
of how someone feels about themselves,
or how they want other people to feel about them,
and then there are those who
just wear what works best for them,
and when they see themselves in a mirror
they say to themselves that no matter
where they are and who they are with
how they want to be seen is,
for better or for worse, just their look.
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.
Mark Hastings 