My Poem “Under the influence”

Everybody is always
under the influence of something
or someone – however, sometimes
the strings of influence are so
faint that they almost look
invisible to they eye
even though, within our minds,
our thoughts and our feelings
are unquestionably being coaxed
into changing how we see the world,
how we think about the world,
how we interpret the world,
how we interact with the world –
and the reason why we are who we are
and why the world is the way that is it
can all be traced back to the power
that certain things, certain people,
certain circumstances, certain environments,
perhaps to certain opportunities when, where,
and how a small group of individuals
were inspired and influenced
to think something that
no one had ever thought before,
to believe something that
no one had ever believed before,
and to do something that
no one had ever done before,
and fundamentally change
and effect everything;
and the reason that we know
everybody who has ever lived
has been influenced by something,
at some time or another,
is because previous generations
always like to leave testiments
and echoes of themselves
for future generations to follow,
analyze, and interpret,
but without the true intention
of the creator in front of them
to compare the constantly evolving
product and result thereof.

Sometimes influences can easily
be seen, felt, and experienced –
because they are intentional…
sometimes influences are accidental…
sometimes influences can be like
a positive push by someone who
thinks that you have within you
the potential for something
that needs to be realized…
sometimes some influences can be bad,
counter-productive, or potentially dangerous –
especially those influences
that make you feel confused, angry,
or sad immediately after you
have been influenced by them.

Every day everybody is bombarded
by influences of every kind –
from the sun shining in the sky
to the sight of someone’s beautiful smile
that always fills you with love
at the same time that it makes you want to cry,
from a song on the radio that
compels you to sing-a-long
to an advertisement on television
trying to sell you something –
and that a long the lines of how things have been,
that is how things will always be,
who the human race is as a species
and that is who we will always be, in some way:
under the influence.

My Poem “The Rings of Saturn”

While growing up,
when asked by someone:
what my favourite planet
of the solar system was?
I would always immediately respond
by saying the name
of the most renowned
and the most instantly identifiable
and recognisable ring-encircled
“Gas Giant” that almost everybody
on Earth is familiar with,
and that Giant of the night sky
is the one and only planet Saturn.

Why has Saturn been my favourite
planet since I was a child,
and not Mars? Jupiter?
Neptune? Or Mercury?
Well, I am not entirely sure;
however, for whatever reason,
there has literally always been
a gravity that has been
drawing my attention
to Saturn in particular –
perhaps it is because
every time that I have seen images
of its vast, iconic, beautiful,
and incredible ring system
that surrounds it,
that is all made up of tiny pieces
of rock and ice that all seem
to fit together perfectly
and combine harmoniously to create
an example of natural astrological art,
there always seems to be a synergy
that to me is symbolic
of some many fundamental things
that I believe life it’s true meaning.

To me, the rings of Saturn
symbolize how life and the universe
is in a constant state of revolution
and almost clock-work like precision,
and depending upon which
vantage point certain things
are being observed from
that can have a fundamental effect
on how they are perceived;
for example, when seen along their
peripheral edge the rings of Saturn
are almost imperceptible,
but when seen from above
or from below the majestic magnificence
of Saturn’s rings show just how
spectacular they are to behold.

From a singular human
perspective and interpretation,
the rings of Saturn resemble
a vinyl-record ingrained with
the music of an artist –
and, just like a record spinning
on a turntable, people here on Earth
have been able to find a way to listen,
to interpret, to record, and to share
the music being generated
by this impressive world,
that just like every spinning
sphere of the cosmos –
be it a star, a moon , or a planet –
is constantly resonating a signal,
a voice, a music, a song
that can only be heard by those
with the right ears to hear it.

The universe, the galaxy,
the solar system of planets
that Earth is a part of
has always been a source
of exploration and discovery,
of intrigue and inspiration,
and thanks to the inventions
of some of our most inspired
and innovative creators and inventors
we have all been able to have
the privilege to see, to hear,
and to feel the pull of
some of the cosmos’ most
awe-inspiring and incredible phenomena;
however, to me, no matter what else
is discovered and uncovered
behind the dark veil of space,
I will always look to and consider
the impressive ringed world
of Saturn to be among the most exceptional
and evocative wonders of the universe.

My Poem “It’s all relative”

Life on Earth, time on Earth,
is individually relative to everybody
and everything alive on this planet…
the way that anybody or any thing
perceives and interacts with the world
is always dependent upon
who they are, what they are,
and where they come from…
Life on another planet,
the way that time is perceived
on another world orbiting around another star,
in another solar system,
in another part of the galaxy,
is always going to be different
in comparison to how we see things here…
Life in another galaxy,
when seen from the unique
vantage point of a radically different
celestial body, if someone were looking up
to their version of the night sky
with their own sense of sight
or through their version
of an intergalactic telescope,
would be the same as a microscopic
organism looking at a macroscopic form of life…
Life in another universe
might not be defined, nor bound,
by the same laws of nature as we have here on Earth –
so anything or anyone living
on their own version of a planet,
a moon, in their own version of a galaxy,
would be unlike anything
that we could ever quantify,
because more than likely
another universe would have their own
definitions of life, reality,
and what constitutes science…
Life for an omnipotent and omnipresent
divine being, such as God,
and the way that they would
undoubtedly observer and perceive
mortal beings with a limited life-span –
such as humanity – would be akin
to someone walking past
and looking through the glass
of an ant-farm, a maze, or an aquarium –
because life and existence
and the way that it is perceived,
interpreted, and analyzed
is always relative.

My Poem “Ideas don’t die”

You can bury ideas,
you can file them away for a rainy day,
you can hide ideas –
but one day those same ideas
will return to haunt you,
to keep you up at night,
and continue to make you think…
Ideas come from places, from things,
and from people – sometimes randomly…
Ideas are like sharks –
and sometimes they are just too big,
too fast, and too strong, to get away from,
because they are so imposing
and so overpowering…
Life itself is an idea,
and many people have different
and varying ideas and opinions
on how people should choose to live their lives…
Art is mostly a nexus of many ideas
coming together to form a unified idea
that surpasses and eclipses
all the others that made it…
The creation of ideas is like
engaging in an act of reproduction –
and just like every spawn or offspring,
a song, a piece of music, a story, a poem,
has an idea running through it
that binds every note, every word,
every picture of imagery,
like a strand of DNA…
Ideas make “something” out of “nothing” –
but “nothing” in my experience
is ever truly “nothing”,
because everything does mean something…
Perception is everything…
Ideas are born from experience,
and by seeing, listening, and feeling
something that creates a connection…
Ideas are the greatest and the most powerful
source of fuel for any creative person –
however, even if do not deliberately make art,
I believe that certain ideas have a way
of changing someone in such a way
that they are never the same
after they have come into contact with them –
because, for some reason, some ideas just won’t die.

Listen to My Poem “Ideas don’t die” by Mark The Poet on #SoundCloud

My Poem “Magpie”

I’ll admit it,
when it comes to writing poetry,
writing stories, making art,
creating light from the dark,
I – like many of my kind –
am a bit of a Magpie…
certain things – people, places,
smells, sounds, tastes, experiences –
that I see, hear, feel, and sense
enter my mind through my eyes,
through my ears, through my nose,
through my mouth, through my fingertips,
and make me slightly different
than I was before…
so many things that I see,
that I hear, that I feel,
shine for me and give me
the same reaction that I am sure
a Magpie experiences when they see
a glistening piece of metal from far away.

Magpies are highly intelligent
and they can live a relatively long life –
and it is because of their observed
and recorded intellectual capabilities,
their extraordinary memory,
and their innate nature, that has led
people over the ages to come to believe
that Magpies can sense and perceive
things before they happen,
as if their existence is connected
to a realm that can only be described
as being supernatural.

So many people think in the same way…
so many artistically minded people
regularly experience moments of inspiration
when they see, hear, or feel something
that opens their eyes wide
and compels them to make a reality
an idea that they cannot shake, nor deny…
so many people see things that other people
may also see, but could never convey…
so many people, like me, who express
what they see, what they hear, what they feel,
what they think, and what they believe,
ultimately choose to use what they have collected
within their mind until a time in the future
when they can let their creative side
fly like the black and white wings of a Magpie.