poem

My Poem “Superstitious”

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

Ghosts from the past are real…
real witches were once tried
and sentenced to death
all around the world…
myths and legends of individuals
capable of doing supernatural acts
have been recorded and they have
become a part of the history
of every civilization on Earth.

Superstitions were once taken
even more seriously than they are now
and over time most societies
have assimilated certain long-held believes
into their daily lives and they still
carry some meaning to them –
like not having a house on a street
with the number thirteen,
counting the number of starlings
that people see and interpreting their
number to mean that there
are invisible forces at work,
or hesitating at the possibility
of having to cross the path of a black cat.

Certain words, certain names,
certain numbers seemingly
have a natural weight
and a significance to them
that has only grown over time,
as more people continue to believe
that certain symbols and signs
are precursors to a particular
event transpiring.

Some of the things that happen
to people are considered to be too “spooky”
to be judged as being mere coincidence:
moments like when you are thinking
about someone in particular
and then the next minute that same
person is calling you on the telephone,
or that feeling of being at the exact
right place at the exact right time
to reap the rewards of a fortune,
or when you wish for something
to happen and seemingly,
remarkably, the thing that want
comes to pass and puts a smile on your face.

“Old Wives Tales” always have
a tried and tested ring of truth to them…
carrying out a particular routine
before committing yourself
to do something
has been known to be effective
in giving someone a sense
of peace of mind…
some people have hand-on-heart
admitted to have had near-death
experiences that cannot be explained…
some people will do anything
and everything not to step on a crack
on the side-walk, or step underneath a ladder,
or look a crow in the eye
for fear that the consequences
could be deadly and hazardous to their health.

Some people could not care less about
superstitions and refer to them
as “nonsense” and “rubbish” –
however, there are still many people
who believe all that they have
ever been told since they were young
who always carry out
the necessary customs
needed to counteract the “bad luck”
that may have been triggered,
and there are people who swear
by the validity of every word
of every superstition
that they have ever heard.

My Poem “Badges”

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

There are some people
who like wearing badges,
there are some people
who like collecting badges,
and there are some people
who like some badges
over other badges
because what they symbolize
has a personal and profound
significance.

Some of the most iconic badges,
icons, logos, and catchphrases
have been passed down from
generation to generation,
from person to person,
and they have outlived others –
sometimes through reinterpretation –
because they say so much
at the same time as being as
succinctly simple as the symbol
of an arrow pointing skywards,
a cross, a star, a heart, a lightning bolt,
or the unification of multitude
of many colours.

There are some badges
that are instantly recognizable
and when they are seen to be worn
by someone in particular
there is an immediate moment of recognition and response…
there are badges that signify
a certain level of competence,
there are badges that advertise
that someone is the member
of a particular group of people,
there are badges that people
wear proudly because they
are a touchstone for experiences
that over time will continue to
mean more and more,
there are badges that people
over their lifetime know
without question
have something to do with
health, wealth, music,
or perhaps with upholding the law.

We are constantly surrounded
by timeless iconography
that has it’s own story to tell
about where it came from,
what it means, where it leads,
and if it is worn what the person
wearing it believes –
and since the time that the first
cave paintings were created
many different universal motifs
and insignias have found their way into
the collective human consciousness,
and over time those same
symbolic gestures have become
necessary ways and forms
of identification and communication
that connects individuals
with other people who also
like to wear the same shape,
colour, and clearly identifiable
and recognizable badges.

My Poem “Trekker”

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

I have always been a trekker…
whether it be through a city of stars
or across an ocean of light,
I have always allowed my thoughts,
my dreams, and my instincts
to dictate what I should do and when…
over the years I have unflinchingly
taken leaps into the unknown
and jumped instantaneously
through swirling wormholes
of many colours to places
of hope and adventure…
over my life I have looked
to the stars to guide my way –
like the seafarers of old –
and every time I saw the torches
of destiny align along the road of fate,
seemingly for me,
I never hesitated to believe
that I could follow the example
of my heroes and decide
to make a difference come what may…
I was instilled with a feeling
of hopefulness, optimism,
and a strength of spirit
and self-belief from the time
that I was a small child –
and as I grew, as I looked around,
as I observed, and as I wondered
why the universe was the way that it was
I naturally began to imagine
that I saw more than
what my eyes told me I was seeing,
and that is why when I look
at the vast darkness of space
I see an opportunity to be inspired
and not a reason to feel fear…
I enjoy reading, watching, and reliving
the stories of pathfinders,
explorers, voyagers, and those people
who have a natural inclination
to go where no one has gone before,
to do what no one has done before,
and those who find ways of achieving
the impossible simply by using
all that they have at their disposal
to start upon a quest
that should only be embarked upon
by those who are the personification
and the embodiment of a true trekker.


“Live Love and Prosper”

My Poem “The Hallowed Season”

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

The colours of autumn
are the some of the most
beautiful, rich, warm,
breathtaking, calming,
memorable, and hypnotic
of all the seasons,
and the resplendent palette
that encompasses and emphasizes
the entirety of the month
of October to December –
during which the leaves of the trees
express their beauty silently
and yet profoundly
in hues of red, brown, and gold –
which sticks with those
who observe closely all the changes
that nature goes through
during the season of Fall
when the light of the sun
seemingly shines its brightest
and speaks to every poet’s hallowed soul.

Some people wait for this
time of year all year long…
some people anticipate
all what this time of year
is known for every day…
some people have a personal connection
with the traditions, the sounds,
the tastes, and the ambience
that is ever-present
at this time of the year…
some people are sometimes
so struck by the sights
that nature puts on display
for free in these autumn months
that they are almost brought to tears.

Misty mornings are not unheard of
when walking up and down the hills
of the countryside…
the golden light of the sun
at dawn is always worth waking up
early for and should not be missed…
the red skies at dusk are some
of the most stunning and mesmerizing
spectacles that can be witnessed
of the glorious natural art
of the heavens above
as seen with the naked eye
from planet Earth…
Autumn is a truly incredible
and inspiring season that
has everything that anyone
could ever wish for to fuel
their most beautiful dreams
of what hallowed fate
hopefully awaits us all.

My Poem “Dopamine”

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

Every biological organism –
from an insect to a bird,
from a fish to a lizard,
from a dog to a human being –
is driven inextricably
by their instincts
and by the reaction
that they are genetically
predisposed to have
to certain types of stimulus:
certain smells, certain sounds,
certain tastes, certain textures,
certain frequencies,
certain configurations of facial
details, and every response
by everybody is personal
and sometimes beyond their control.

Sometimes the emotions of a typical
biological organism –
those of the loving parents
of a child, for example –
can be triggered so delicately
and yet so profoundly, instantaneously,
following the inhaling of their
new-born baby’s natural aroma,
which as a response completely
overcomes all rational thoughts
and normal actions of behaviour
that they might usually
commit themselves to
and they can be irrevocably changed,
and which only adds to the natural
parental bond that is formed
without any necessary thought.

When people fall in love with someone
whom they have just met
the immediate rise in heart-rate,
breathing, blood-pressure,
and the mist of thought
that blurs out everything and everybody
other than the one who every one
of your feelings, your senses
and your instincts are focused solely upon
are but the first indications
that someone feels a lust, a crush,
a thrust of energy that is as natural
to life as the heat and the light from the sun.

It has been proven many times
by many different experts over the years
that when people start to lose
certain natural, biological,
and psychologically sustaining,
messages, responses, filters,
and internal mechanisms that
control certain involuntary impulses
within them that people can slowly
but surely start to become slower
in how they anticipate certain things
happening and less capable of making
independent choices and decisions
that continue the natural equilibrium
of thoughts, feelings, and emotions
that make them who they are
and who they were at their prime.

Over time every form of biology
changes from one state of being
to another – sometimes as a response
to extreme environmental entropy
and the chaos of a world seemingly
at war with itself –
and just like what we feel,
what we see, what we hear,
what we think about bleeds
into everybody’s dreams,
it is hard to stop the rush,
to stop the stream,
and to temper the tide
that is the surge of dopamine.

My Poem “It Takes One to Know One”

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

From my experience,
over the course of a life
of being around music lovers,
movie lovers, storytellers,
and those who have had to live
through many things during their life,
I have slowly felt the awakening of a gift –
a gift that I believe became apparent
when I began exploring, experimenting,
and expressing my thoughts, feelings,
hopes, fears, and desires:
the ability to see and to recognise
a particular gift within somebody
who life has steered towards me
so that I may interact with them –
and because I am a poet,
and because I am naturally
a very emotional person
who is regularly emotive about
what is on his mind,
what he believes to be true,
as I quietly but openly question
what something means and whether
there is more to explore
about something, at the same time
that I am dreaming about
what is in store in the future,
and every day I believe that I see
things in people, in places,
and in ways that other people perhaps
may be temporarily incapable
of seeing and believing –
especially within themselves:
natural gifts, skills, talents, voices,
hidden and perhaps undiscovered
powers of persuasion to be able
to make people feel something
and to bring out something
from deep within them,
and in turn continue the miracle
of life that was begun when light
first shined upon the deep darkness
of space and gave rise to the first stars,
planets, and all the other multicolored
phenomena of the universe
that have been inspiring life
and which was inspired into being
once upon a time by an explosion
of creativity that continues
to bloom over and over
again within the soul of every living thing.

One of the greatest gifts someone
can give someone else
is to recognize and to inform them
that they have within them
something that needs to be shared far and wide
and with as many people as possible –
and I believe that it is the duty
of the creatively inclined
to stoke the fire of fellow artists
and to tell them to do the same
whenever they find someone
with hidden talents,
because sometimes the only person
who can recognise someone
as being gifted and special
is someone with a similar love
that beats within them
night and day like a perpetual drum –
and also because, as the old saying goes,
sometimes: “it takes one to know one.”

My Poem “Pathways”

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

In life there are many pathways
that we all have to travel down –
paths of space, paths of time,
paths of the mind that are made
by experience, by memory,
by feelings, by emotions –
that can be as solid as stone,
as tumultuous as the waves of an ocean,
as electrifying as the wires of a network,
as vital and as regenerative as the nerves
of central nervous system that
carries messages and signals
at lightning-fast speeds
throughout a human body
in order to maintain a normal
state of autonomy and self-sufficiency.

Every day pathways reveal themselves
to people who have been searching
for a route between darkness and light,
between unconsciousness and life,
between the foggy underworld of dreams
and the clarity of reality,
between adolescence and maturity,
and sometimes the steps that need to be
taken may seem alien, forced, and uncertain –
but, as is the case with most things,
the more progress that you make
the easier that it feels
to traverse the gulf between
one side of a road of choices to the other,
as long as you remember to always
look left and right along the way,
and vice versa.

Not all pathways are easy to walk down…
not all pathways are able to be found…
not all pathways have a definitive end…
not all pathways are as straight as an arrow
and more likely than not they have several
twists, turns, bumps, and bends…
not all people realize that they have
actually been on a journey throughout
their lives until they look back,
until they see, until they remember,
and until they realize that life
is the precious gift that we are all
surrounded by every day –
and that is why I believe
that people should take a greater
interest in what is going on around them,
what everybody can do to effect
the world around them,
and realize why it is necessary
for everybody around the world
to consider themselves a part of a
single ecosystem and organism
of infinite, interlinked, coexisting,
cooperative, and codependent
variables that invariably define
the fate of life on this planet
and where the nexus
and the “finish line” of everything
and everybody will be when
there is the ultimate convergence
of every single one of life’s
matrices of pathways.

My Poem “Run Jesse, run!”

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

It is the hallmark of a great film,
a great television show,
a great play, a great writer,
a great cast, a great production staff,
a great actor portraying
a great and complex protagonist,
who by the great gift of their craft
is able to make us –
the viewer, the audience –
care for them, accept them,
and become emotional invested and involved
in the story and in the journey
of the characters that we follow
from the second that we first see them
all the way to the last moments
of the last chapter and finale
that will ultimately – hopefully –
deliver a satisfying conclusion
that makes the journey that you
have taken with these familiar
characters worth all the time,
all the energy, and all the thought
that you committed to them
over the hours, the days,
the months, perhaps even the years
that it has taken to reach the end credits.

It can sometimes be hard to find
an ending that ticks all the boxes,
that answers all the questions,
that wraps up all the dangling threads
that remain to be addressed
and given a reason for why
they were not connected to the
greater narrative that underpins
everything that is a part
of the ultimate story being told…
in any given story it is always
out of the hands of the writer
and the author which part of an ongoing
story people will respond to and why –
sometimes it is the simplest
and the smallest of plot points
that resonate the most
and which over time become
what people remember the most,
as if what they saw shined like gold.

It is always a test for an audience
when an author creates
a character and they put them
through things that push them to their limits
and they change them in ways
that are hard to watch,
and it can sometimes be hard for people
to continue to empathize with
a certain character when they
start to behave in morally
questionable ways of being…
quite frequently, in some of the best
stories ever told, an audience gets
to watch the evolution of
a protagonist into an antagonist,
the hunter into the hunted,
the wronged into the redeemed –
and vice versa –
and the once imprisoned against
their will make their getaway
and run for the hills and away
from all that they are leaving behind –
like the character of Jesse Pinkman
driving like a bat out of hell
in his black and red ‘El Camino’
away from his past and towards
a future that not even he knows.

“The average person looking at someone doing evil or wrong wants the person to get away with it. I think it’s the most amazing instinct. The audience can’t bear the suspense of the person being discovered. “Hurry up! Quick! You’re going to be caught!” – Alfred Hitchcock

My Poem “Walter White (A Breaking Bad poem)”

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

What would a man do for his family?
What would a man do in order
to secure a future for his family
after he passed on –
perhaps even after this same man
had to witness the crystal empire
that he had built crumble
into shards of glass and then into dust –
like King Ozymandias –
after which having to live
with the consequences
of the actions that he took
to bolster and to reaffirm
his damaged ego?
What would a man do to feel alive again
after being given a short time to live?
How would the power to be someone else
change someone, and who or what
might they become?
What if someone were to become a cook
of a dangerous product
capable of destroying the lives
of those that imbibe in
what this maestro of chemistry
cooked better than anybody –
who slowly went from being someone
whiter than white, law-abiding,
and a model father and teacher,
to a black hat wearing,
gun-wielding, criminal
called “Heisenberg” who
pulled the wool over the eyes
of his family for over a year,
who broke bad with a former student of his,
called Jesse Pinkham –
in the City of Albuquerque,
in “The Land of Enchantment”
that is the State of New Mexico –
and who in the end lost everything that
he had ever worked for
and sacrificed so much for,
and that is the story of the main protagonist
of one of my favourite TV shows,
‘Breaking Bad’, and the legacy
that it has left since its final episode
“Felina” aired continues
to draw many new people
to seek out, to watch, to enjoy, to live,
and to endure the highs and the lows
that were played out from beginning
to end by the character and “cook”
Walter White and the blue crystal
that was his signature dish.

My Poem “The Quintessential Joker”

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

I have always been someone
who likes to smile, to laugh,
to entertain, and to share my
overflowing enthusiasm
and enjoyment of something…
I have always been someone
who was drawn to moments of time
which revolved around happiness,
hopefulness, and the beauty of life
and the depths of feeling
that the human spirit is prevalent with.

I have always been someone
who understood how precious,
how amazing, what an opportunity,
and what a gift it is to be among
those who live in the world of the living –
and it has been revealed to people
many times over that it is
in those moments in our lives
when our emotions are at their most heightened,
that our minds are open to the possibilities
that surround each and every one of us
but which sometimes have
their secrets and truths
hidden from view because
people are not always in the right
frame of mind to understand
what they mean nor why they are so important…
often times the funniest forms
of comedy come out of the darkest
of situations that we find ourselves in…
some of the greatest writers, storytellers,
and performers the world has ever known
once knew and went through
times of pain, anguish, and fear
that they had to go through and overcome –
because everybody has different ways
of coping with everything
that they have to endure,
and everybody has different
levels of resilience and tolerance –
and there are times when some people
do the wrong thing at the wrong time
but they do not come to their senses
until much later in their life.

Everybody needs some kind
of outlet to return to…
everybody needs some kind
of way to express themselves…
everybody needs some kind
of flickering flame to get them
through the most trying of nights…
everybody knows what is funny to them
and what makes them explode
into a fit of laughter,
and everybody knows someone
who can lighten their mood
and without even having to try
can turn on their charm
and become the quintessential joker.