I used to be so fast…
I used to be able to move
with greater speed
seemingly than that of light,
or even that of thought…
I used to be in one place
and then gone the next
that I seemingly had no shadow to cast…
I used to be able to seemingly be
a different person, in different places,
interacting with different people,
all at once, and able to diversify
my time and my attention
seemingly to countless others…
I used to be unstoppable,
I used to be indomitable;
I used to be connected to so many,
in so many ways –
and then something happened:
I underestimated my own abilities
to be the one who could do
anything without consequence,
nor did I account for things
naturally coming to an end…
I used to have so many friends;
I used to have so many people
who looked upon me
with such love and enthusiasm;
I used to have the foresight
to enable me to be ahead
of the game being played –
and then I watched the house of cards
I had constructed fall down around me,
and since then I have seen
others pick up the cards that
I imbued with elements of myself
and take them with them and use them
to create barriers that keep me always
at arms-length, because they took
all that they ever wanted from me…
I find that I am now slower in speed
and more hesitant to jump at the chance
to throw caution to the wind
as I blaze a trail of flames
and do what I desire without a single thought
to the consequences of my actions;
I find that I am now more likely to be found
deliberating about what I should do,
rather than leaping into the unknown
and trying to find my way by using my instincts
to light the way that I would follow
to wherever I felt I needed to be, and with whom…
I find that I am now more likely to be found
in my own sanctuary,
rather than tripping the light fantastic
while dancing upon the water-drops
of a rainstorm brought to life
by the rays of the sun
converted into the arch of a rainbow.
And why? Because I care not
for what and for whom I was once obsessed about
and believed in to a fault;
because I no longer wish to be
the one who did all that he could
while receiving nothing in return;
because I no longer call my allies my friends,
nor do I call my enemies my nemeses –
because I am more than happy
with my own company and with those who
I wish to gift my time to;
because I have been blessed with the gift
of not being burdened by the pain of disappointment,
nor by the knowledge that I lived a life
navigating a labyrinth of relationships
built on lies and deception –
and which is why I live alone,
but not lonely, in my world of hope,
resilience, resolution,
and symbolic of the messenger of possibilities
that I always have been and always will be.
messenger
My Poem “Homme en Noir”
Everyone repeats themselves…
everyone sometimes wears
the same things over and over again -
even heroes…
everyone has secrets…
everyone makes the same mistakes
over and over again…
everyone is different,
and yet unavoidably human…
everyone lies; everyone has goods days;
everyone has bad days;
everyone gets to a point
when all they want is a quiet life…
everyone sometimes gets ahead of themselves…
everyone sometimes slips back into old habits…
everyone sometimes flies high…
everyone sometimes falls deep…
everyone needs air to breathe…
everyone can sometimes feel
suffocated by the same old routines…
everyone has a destiny, a purpose, an identity,
a life that can never be lost -
even those of us who might have forgotten
that long ago we were told by someone
that some day we will be somebody
who will make a difference…
everyone who goes to war
returns changed by what they have experienced -
and the first enemy of every battle
that has to be fought and overcome
is always the fear of the one who is fighting…
everyone who has searched for the truth
about something or someone
knows how it feels to be given an answer;
everyone who has investigated a mystery
about why something happened
knows that when light is shined upon darkness
details emerge from the shadows;
everyone who has taken a leap in their life
in which they had no idea
what the outcome would be
knows that a sacrifice is sometimes asked to be made
so that the righteousness of their actions
can be rewarded by those
who are willing to do the right thing
for a greater good…
everyone is someone…
everyone has a future, as well as past -
even someone who spends their time
doing good for others, without asking
for anything back:
someone who has been through so much,
and who identifies themselves first and foremost
as a messenger of truth, justice, peace, and love,
who is only ever witnessed in passing
as a mysterious man in black.
‘VEGA – The Vampire King’ by Mark Hastings – Chapter Eleven: “Pandemonium”
My Poem “The Code of Poetry”
It has always been hard for me to describe just how much poetry means to me - because it is hard to put into words the power and the magic that I feel whenever the title or the idea for a new poem comes to me. It's breathtaking! It's amazing! It's exciting! It's revitalizing! I have been writing poetry for so long now that the ability to do so almost feels like a sixth sense that I can't turn on or off - in fact, sometimes I almost feel like a conductor who can always find a way to reach out and attract an abundance of poetic lightning. I have experienced moments of exhilaration and levitation while writing poetry that I can only compare to instances similar to how people describe what it feels like to have been touched by the divine hand of an Angel or a God - and every time that I do feel inspired to write something I have never written before the only way that I know how to describe the experience is to say that it feels like I have been given a message that was for my eyes only, because I alone was the only one who could decipher this hidden, but ever present, code of poetry.
My Poem ‘The Messenger’
Everybody is here on this Earth,
everybody is a part of this world,
for a reason – but, sometimes,
most of the time, more often than not,
people have no idea why…
I, however, know exactly why I am here,
why I am alive, and what my reason to live is
and will be until the day I die:
I am a messenger, but not a messenger
that you may expect,
I do not look like any “messenger”
that I have seen in my life –
I do not wear a uniform,
and what I does not always require me to drive…
I suppose I am like an old-fashioned telephone receiver,
and when I receive a very important call
with a very important message to be delivered to someone
I answer it without question or hesitation
and I go to pass on what I have been asked to deliver.
I never know who the sender is,
I never know who the recipient will be –
I only know a face, sometimes I even know a first-name;
I do not know what the message I am delivering is
sometimes until the moment that I deliver it…
I don’t even know where I am going
until I see the signs showing me the way
to where I need to get to –
it’s like I am painting a picture of something
that hasn’t happened yet as I take each and every step,
and it is only at the end of my delivery
that I can see the complete picture in its entirety,
like stepping back and looking at a canvas
newly-framed and mounted on the wall of a gallery.
I have delivered more messages than I can remember:
a young man sitting on a bus…
I remember telling him something
that his older sister wanted him to know:
that even though she had run away from home she still loved him
and that they would see each-other again one day –
some of the messages are so emotional to deliver,
I cannot help but break-down in tears
as I give them their message,
but in the same breath I love being the bearer of hope
and that sometimes invisible and silent hand
upon a person’s shoulder
telling them that every-thing is going to be alright.
I am not sure why I was chosen…
I am not sure who it was who chose me…
I am not sure if I am doing God’s work…
I am not sure what happens next
after I reach out, on behalf of someone else,
to another person…
I am not sure if my delivery of the message
is delivered in the same way as was intended –
most of the time I can deliver
what the message is with a look
and with a burst of thought,
like I am the conductor
of some kind of psychic-electricity;
sometimes I just let the message do all the work
and I just watch from behind my own eyes
while my body acts as if it has been possessed
by some kind of magical curse.
To most people who meet me,
I am nothing more than a stranger;
to a higher-power,
I am the one whom they chose
to be their psychic-amplifier;
to the sender of the messages that I send,
I am a link to someone who they want to talk to
without having to use their own voice –
I am their secret-teller,
I am one of their story-tellers…
I am here, I am there,
to be close and near to someone,
so that I can be who from a small child
I was always destined to be:
‘The Messenger’.
My Poem ‘Elise Jené’
My beautiful, wonderful
and talented friend, Elise Jené,
is, and has been, an inspiring light
for everyone who has ever met her –
and that was something that I saw,
felt, and knew, when I first met her,
all those years ago,
when she became my friend on that first day.
Elise is a musician, a teacher,
a healer, a divine messenger;
Elise is a singer, a song-writer,
a lover of life, who I once described
as a “jewel of Canada”;
Elise is a friend, a warrior,
a believer, a world-traveler,
and an extra-dimensional explorer –
who has not only seen the world,
but she also understands the world;
and until I met her,
I had never met anyone like her.
I have been listening to Elise’s music for years;
I have been listening to Elise’s beautiful voice
and been literally been brought to tears;
I have thought of Elise as a spiritual guide for me,
ever since we first traded messages;
I have seen Elise rise higher and higher,
and I truly believe that her spirit and mine
have been communicating for ages.
When Elise plays her guitar,
when Elise plays a song on a piano,
when Elise sings a song of hers,
I am instantly reminded of the meaning of the heavens,
the universe, and the music of the stars;
when Elise performs, and talks,
I am always captivated by her voice –
and I can even imagine seeing her sing and play,
even if I can only, merely, and wonderfully
hear her voice on the radio.
My friend is great;
my friend is beautiful and amazing in so many ways;
my friend is so close to me in spirit,
even if she is physically far-away;
my friend is incredible,
and I am so lucky to have an infinite friend
like my friend, Elise Jené.
Check out my friend Elise Jene’s amazing website SuryaDevi.com and check our her amazing music @ Mantrasforthemasses.com
Mark The Poet 