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.
opinion
My Poem ‘Please give generously’
Anything is better than nothing;
time is our greatest currency;
compassion is something special
that not everybody
is instantly capable of feeling;
being there for those in need
when they need a hand to hold
and no other form of hand-out
should be the core principle
of every charity.
It isn’t until you are personally
touched by a tragedy,
or by a shock to the system,
that you start to look at the world
and realize how important
and how much another human being
can make a profound difference to your life;
it isn’t until you look for support
from someone else that you realize
there are other people out there in the world
who have at one time
been where you are
and have gone through
what you are going through;
it isn’t until you struggle
to put into words how you feel
that you realize how important it is
to have someone to wish you sweet dreams
before you fall asleep at night;
it isn’t until you accept
that you do not know every-thing
that you can have your own breakthrough.
Our loved-ones are always those
who we see and who we think about the most;
our emotions for those
who brighten our lives
are always the closest to the surface;
our memories of people we used
to know and love are our ghosts;
our time with others is precious,
and sadly there are few things
in the end that last.
In my opinion,
100% of all that is given
to a cause should make it
to the intended-recipient;
in my opinion,
the act of giving is diluted
when it becomes a means towards an end
for someone who is not directly effected by
and who knows nothing about
what it means to be someone
who feels ashamed
to ask for help from anyone;
in my opinion,
you can’t help to save a life until you see
why everybody to everyone is important;
in my opinion,
there are some people who do not realize
that if we do not all share responsibility
for the continued survival of our species
and our planet then some fights
and some struggles will never be won.
We don’t truly think about something
until it gets personal;
we don’t truly act on something
until we are effected emotionally;
we don’t truly know how hard life can be
until we are made to feel vulnerable;
we don’t truly know
how much we can contribute
to saving a life until we try –
so, whether you do it by-hand,
by using your feet,
or whether you choose
to make your mark to help others
in a way that is wholly anonymously,
give whatever you can
to someone else in need…
and, please give generously.
My Poem ‘Civus mondus’
Every country,
every city, every town,
everywhere where people look,
see, listen, hear, sit, stand,
and walk around,
every member of every society
is a part of the whole
as well as an individual;
no matter where on Earth a place is,
it is the people who populate it
and who make somewhere
the place it is known for –
and with those people
there are rituals and archetypes of behavior
that distinguish someone
as a piece of a mosaic of a regional picture.
The place someone chooses to live
is telling of who they are;
the speed at which time and life goes by
is different all over the world;
there is always someone
who stands out from the crowd
of a connected group of people
for a reason, because in some way
they shine like a star;
there is always someone
who at alternating times of the day
leaves you both vocal and lost for words.
Order always rises from chaos;
differences of opinion
always generate a wave of change;
language, fashion, normality,
evolves and shifts and can cause
ground-shaking disturbances
like the Earths moving
and colliding tectonic plates;
peace can follow a prolonged period of rage;
sometimes modern life can feel like a race.
Just as you can’t stop a flood completely,
you cannot ever stop the world from spinning;
just as you can’t stop the rain from falling,
you can’t silence a people and species
who were born and are meant
to use their gifted, miraculous talent
to never stop talking and communicating;
just as long as the sun continues to shine
there will always be blue skies,
the world will never be truly predictable
or ever boring – because
as long as there is a world, a galaxy,
a universe, there will always be for everyone
the gift of something.
Choice is both the problem
and the solution to everything,
as the world continues its conversation
and delegation with itself
to find a mutual and universal understanding;
there will always be cycles of parallels
and juxtapositions;
as long as each and every one of us has a voice
and that voice can have an and every accent,
and can be expressed in any way,
we will all always be worldly
and universal citizen.
Mark The Poet 