poem

My Poem “The Modern Mythology”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Every mythology has stories of heroes and villains…
every tale ever told that has survived through the ages
lives on because they have a moral truth at their heart…
every religion that has attracted followers to its teachings
has fundamental rules that are expected to be adhered to by,
and which are staples in the life of,
any person with faith in what their
religion’s holy texts tell them is essential…
every mythology is filled with individuals
with super-human abilities that allow them
to change the world around them…
every mythology has an origin story
that explains where the world
and everything in it came from…
every mythology has a creator as its figure-head
who is prayed to and worshiped so that they
might bless their believers
with miracles and gifts of good fortune…
every country has their own cultures
who have their own individual mythologies…
every era of history has intertwined with it
modern interpretations of old tales
that fit into the events playing out
all around the world that are documented
in so many modern ways…
even in this day and age,
there are stories being documented –
on T.V., in films, in newspapers, in literature –
in the posts that people share on social media –
of people endowed with power who don’t know
how to wield the influence at their fingertips,
as well as tales of heroism
and rebellion against oppression…
creators create mythologies every day –
in comic books, in novels, in urban legends,
in technology, on television, in art,
in architecture, in structures built
with a specific purpose that are meant
to be draw people to them so that they can admire them –
that slowly enter the lexicon of our society…
our world was built upon, and continues to thrive,
because of the stories that combine together
to make the tapestry of life
that is our modern mythology.

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My Poem “Supernatural Obsession”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , ,

The thing about the universe,
the thing about the world,
the thing about life,
the thing about death
and what happens after we die
is that we simply do not know
everything that is out there,
nor do we know what is going to happen next…
we don’t know why any of us are here,
nor do we know what real aliens look like,
or why some people are haunted by ghosts?
So much is known about the world –
however, so much about life is still unexplained…
so much has been explored
and so many questions have been answered –
and yet there still remains fundamental questions
about the nature of life and what awaits us all
in our after-life that are constantly being posed
within someone’s brain.
Heaven? Hell? Angels? Demons?
What world awaits us and who should we expect
to find on the other side when it is our time?
Is where we go next dependent upon
if we have lived a life in which
we have been cruel, or if we have been kind?
It is existential questions
that drive our souls as we live our lives…
it is questions of morality that define
the stories that we tell one-another
that are the content of what we dream about at night…
it is our fascination with questions of the incredible,
the impossible, the unbelievable, and the phenomenal
that will continue to always spark to life
humanity’s collective imagination…
there will always be characters
in paranormal stories and adventures,
like Sam and Dean, who will be our guides
and our storytellers of paranormal events
and experiences that will continue to fuel
our long-held supernatural obsessions.

My Poem “Excelsior!”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , ,

Some writers are natural born storytellers…
some creators create characters
who are so Mighty, so Amazing, so Incredible,
so Fantastic, that they leap from the words,
from the pictures, from the pages,
where they were first written and drawn,
and they ascend and travel far beyond
the dreams of the one who first
breathed life into them…
some writers have a way of defining
the times that they live in with their stories,
and then there are those writers
whose imagination is so beyond
any measurable spectrum that their influence
stretches over space and time…
there are very few writers and creators
like Stan “The Man” Lee –
because he was a Marvel in his own right
and a god to those who knew of him
and what his characters and stories
will always mean to the world…
Stan Lee was more than just a writer
and a creator of some of the most influential
superheroes of our time:
Spider-man, The Hulk, Thor, Iron Man,
The X-Men, Daredevil, Doctor Strange,
The Fantastic Four – and he
made an entire generation of dreamers
into True Believers…
I will always remember his smile,
his voice, his one of a kind mind,
his generous heart, his timeless ethos
that: “One person can make a difference” –
and there could never be enough said
about what he will always mean
to so many people all around the world…
and so, I say goodbye to the one and the only
Stan Lee by looking up to the sky
and reciting his life motto: Excelsior!



RIP Stan Lee
1922-2018

My Poem “Hell in Paradise”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , ,

A monstrous wild-fire is raging…
people are running for their lives…
a hell-storm is raining down
on the small town of Paradise…
California is burning…
those who have the power to help
should be helping those in need
instead of criticizing…
Trees, homes, hospitals
have been devastated…
highways are jammed, as people try to escape…
even those who live far away
from this heartbreaking and horrifying disaster
have been forced to evacuate…
panic fills the air…
tears fall like raindrops from the eyes
of those who have lost everything…
a cloud of smoke chokes the evacuees
that flee the fire that can be seen 100 miles away…
people are asking God to help them
make the devilish flames surrounding
the City of Angels cease and go away…
and my heart goes out to everybody who has been
affected by the fire that is currently
raging in California –
and I just hope and pray that the rain of heaven
will soon pour down and bring an end
to the hell that is currently
waging war on Paradise.

My Poem “A hundred years”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

It has been a hundred years
since the First World War ended –
“the war to end all wars” –
and yet humanity still wages war
against itself every day…
it has been a hundred years
since brave men put their lives
on the line to bring peace
to the entire world –
and yet, every day, soldiers
still march, fight, and oppose
the might of an adversarial army and ideology
whose subscribed members
cannot always be plainly identified…
it has been a hundred years,
it has been a life-time,
it has been a century since families
put their hands together to pray
that we may never again see the day
when humanity would take up arms against itself –
and yet people still do harm to others every day,
and peace between everybody cannot be maintained…
it has been a hundred years
since the soldiers and the survivors of World War I
put down their weapons and began
the long walk of grief,
hoping to remember the fallen
and to never allow history to repeat itself;
however, 11 years after the end
of “the war to end all wars”,
another war sparked into life
and millions of people died –
and when it ended, six long years later,
the world was assured that the peace
that was won at a heavy cost would always endure…
it has been a hundred years
since an understanding was reached by many nations
to work together instead of fighting each other –
and yet, a hundred years since
war should have become a thing of the past,
our world is still in a constant struggle with itself
and not everybody wants to get along with one-another;
however, no matter the constant conflict
that still exists around the world,
I still remain hopeful that humanity
will one day find universal peace and serenity –
but hopefully it won’t need to take another hundred years
for the entire world to come to its senses
and learn to get along with each other
for the sake of our children’s future.

My Poem “Birthplace”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , ,

After they are born,
most people do not return
to the place of their birth…
most people have no memory of,
nor any connection with,
the one place on Earth
where they arrived in this world…
it is only as we get older,
when we start asking questions
about who we are and where we come from,
that we find out more about
the place on our birth-certificate…
sometimes, for some people,
returning to the place where the first person
saw their newborn face is a difficult experience
and not one that they which to repeat…
where we are born is integral to who we will be,
how we will think, and the direction in life
that we will take…
everybody is shaped and molded by the world around them –
but the place where a person’s story begins
has an impact that cannot be overstated…
whether someone is born in a hospital,
on an airplane, in a forest,
in the back of a car, in a lift, or in a pool of water –
that first point of interaction with the world,
that first inhale of air,
the first sights, the first sounds,
the first light of life that we see
are the first things that welcome us
into this world of gravity,
meaning, purpose, interface –
and that is why I believe that there is
something special and meaningful
about the exact when and where
that was, and will always be,
our birthplace.

My Poem “Vicarious”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I love telling stories –
and I love hearing, reading,
and experiencing the stories of others…
when I was young I was a child
who used to be absolutely hypnotized
and captivated by whatever story
I was watching play out in front of me:
in books, on T.V., and at mandatory
family get-togethers…
I have always loved the gift and the ritual
of telling tales and learning something
I never knew before about something,
somewhere, or someone…
I was always that kid in the classroom
who was always staring out into space,
looking out of the window,
and dreaming about an adventure
to be had in a far away place…
however, as I grew older,
the more that I wanted to see of the world…
as I grew more inquisitive about the universe
the more that I wanted to go to all the places
that I had always yearned to see –
and as a child of amazing parents
I was given the opportunity to visit
kingdoms of magic, wonder, and infinite possibility…
but it was when I finally made it to New York City
that I realized I was truly living a dream
that I had had for as long I could remember,
when I saw playing out in front of me
lights, sounds, colours, and a spectrum of life
that was beyond imagination…
and that is why I feel very lucky
and incredibly fortunate to have been
where I have been, and to have seen what I have seen –
because I know that there are so many people
from all around the world
who have always dreamed about going
to where I have been and doing what I have done
but who for one reason or another
may never be able to –
and there are so many people from all around the world
who would give anything to take a leap across an ocean
and live their dreams, but who for the time being
have to settle for seeing, hearing, and experiencing
the world through the eyes, the ears,
and the senses of other people, vicariously.