‘Blue Sky’ by Poet of The Sphere

Blue sky above me, blue sky below me,
blue sky all around and as far the eye can see;
I have risen, and without even having to try
I have reached beyond my grasp and I have touched the sky;
the universe within me, and the universe around me
have both come to a mutual impasse to reveal to me my destiny.

Shakespeare; Poetry; Friendship; ‘The World’ itself:
Why did I take ‘The Complete Works of Shakespeare’ from that shelf?
Why did I start writing poetry and teach myself to write in rhyme?
Was my meeting of all those who I have met simply a matter of time?
What is ‘The World’? What is the meaning of our lives?
What should we do when our moment to shine arrives:
when we are called upon to make a difference and to make our mark,
to touch people with the same magnitude as the universe’ first spark.

Since I wrote my very first stanza I have not been the same;
after that first poem I cannot convey how important poetry became.
To be inspired by life; to have patterns of words come to me as if by magic;
to write something meant for the entire world and not just for the esoteric.
To share what it’s like to have blue sky above me, blue sky below me:
to fly above the clouds, and to find inspiration in everyone and every tree.

-Mark Hastings, Poet of the Sphere, 2010
‘Blue Sky’ by Poet of the Sphere

Blue sky-poem

My Poem ‘Vampire State of Mind’

What makes a vampire a Vampire
is all in the blood…
what drives a vampire
and what a vampire dreams about
would send shivers down a human spine
and strike fear into the heart of a man
and freeze their blood faster than
a river that runs still
under the sky of winter moonlight.

When the darkness falls,
and the stars above reveal themselves,
that is when the creatures of night-mares rise
and are filled with over-flowing power
and revitalized health
that feeds their hunger
just as much as that which they crave,
and it is then when nothing and no-one is safe
from the blood-drunk
who are in search of fresh prey –
and if your neck does have the misfortune
to come close to the sharp fangs of a Vampire
then say a prayer to god as fast as you can
before you sadly expire.

Stories have been told for centuries…
Vampires of all names
have risen from their coffins after-dark…
there is an allure for some people,
and there is an aura that surrounds
those who find peace
kindling the miracle gift
that is life’s spark.

A lust for life…
an endless thirst…
an aversion to sunlight…
a vocabulary of other-worldly words…
an understanding that death
is just another word for transformation…
a dance with the devil…
a passion and an obsession…
a secret desire to be the master
over another’s fate and will.

A vampire is of a time…
a vampire is eternal…
a vampire can only live if others die…
a vampire’s spirit is the most indomitable…
a vampire drinks blood as if it were red wine…
a vampire constantly walks the twilight line…
a vampire will always find a way to survive…
there are those who are not actual Vampires,
but who share many Vampire-like attributes,
and who have, what some may call,
a Vampire state of mind.

My Poem ‘The Matador’

I have always wondered
what goes through a Matador’s mind
when he is standing in a bull-ring
and a bull is running towards him
completely intoxicated,
incensed, and blood-blind…
they can’t move, they can’t run…
they have countless people
sitting in a crowd all-around and above,
and every second their heart is beating
so fast that they feel like
they are standing in the centre
of a mist of blood –
who would not be scared?
how could anyone in their right mind
not feel fear when a huge animal
with big horns is running at full-speed
directly at you?
How could anyone not scream or swear?
How could anyone, why would anyone,
choose to do what they do
knowing that one day there
may come a day when the bull
might decide your fate for you?

It is all about respect…
it is all about understanding…
it is all about being your gods-honest best…
it is all about acting without thinking…
it is all about giving yourself
over to your instincts…
it is all about participating in a dance…
it is all about misdirecting, entertaining,
facing something, and being a part of something
that feels almost mythic…
it is all about going into a trance
and seeing a million things happening
all-at-once from a single glance…
and miraculously the matador moves,
the matador survives,
the matador is not pierced by the bulls horns,
nor trampled on by the bulls heavy hoofs…
the matador lives to fight another day,
while the bull awakes as if it has just
been awaken by the new days rays of sunlight.

The matador was born to do what he does…
the matador does what he does
to feed the hunger deep inside him…
this matador was definitely born
under the constellation of Taurus…
the matador does not hate the bull in any way –
he knows that he must be
who he was always meant to be,
and fulfill his destiny…
he knows that he must roll the dice
and use his ‘Capote de paseo’ cape
so as to play and win.

The matador does not do what he does
for fame, for fortune, or for applause –
the matador does what he does
because the bull is his life
and his life is the bull…
he does what he does,
he dresses himself in his suit of light
because to him he is acting out god’s will…
he does what he does because he is The Matador.

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My Poem ‘Analog’

The world is like a ticking clock…
the universe is the most breathtaking
and complex time-piece…
the Earth is far more than
a green and blue planet
of trees, oceans, and rock…
life is a monument
and an unfinished puzzle
of an infinite number of pieces.

All worlds turn silently in a vacuum…
all life is unique…
all explosions create a plume…
all things have the ability to speak…
nothing is by accident…
every song is the offspring
of the trinity of a musical artist:
heart, mind, and soul…
all music is like a thing of magic…
the random and the unexpected
is what makes life feel
ever the more real…
sometimes the more unmarked
and the more perfect something appears
the more fake it can seem…
sometimes the more you add to something
the more that you take away from it…
sometimes the more you dream about something
the more that you build a bridge
between the imaginary and the seen,
and that is when something phenomenal begins
like a tempest of energy behind your eye-lids.

We all share, and we all receive…
we all upload, and we all download…
we all like our freedom,
and we like to be loyal in our own way
and return home to the place
and to the people we love…
we all think… we all breathe…
we all code… we all have our very own
introduction, life, story, and epilogue…
sometimes the best things in life
happen when you embrace
the unedited version of something,
and to me there are fewer things purer
than those that can be enjoyed in analog.

My Poem ‘The Purple Flame’

The Purple flame, the purple prince,
the purple reign, the purple spirit,
the purple light, the purple love,
the purple sight, the purple angel
who now flies free like a dove…
the purple revolutionary,
the soul, the purple poet, the purple poetry,
the purple energy flow,
the purple art, the purple artist,
the purple icon, the purple tempest…
we are all going to be basking in your glow
today and for all of the days of tomorrow…
I am imagining you right now
racing down a highway in heaven
with David Bowie and John Lennon
in a little red Corvette
against the backdrop of a purple sunset,
wearing a raspberry-coloured beret,
on your way to a place
where there is an ocean of inspiration
that is constantly being remade
by the diamond and pearl-like
droplets of purple rain.

You have left us,
but you are still here…
you have blessed us,
and we will remember you
every second that we hear
your transcendent music,
as we shed a tear…
you may be far away now,
but your message of love
still echoes all around the world…
you must be looking back at us now
through the clouds
and smiling to yourself
because you know that the magical gift of music
that you were a master of
is one of the universe’s must powerful cures.

The purple bird…
the purple fire…
the purple star…
the purple flower…
the purple dust…
the purple pulse that will always
flow back and forth through our veins
from our feet to our brains…
the purple night…
the purple day…
the purple life that we will always cherish
and we will always be in-awe of…
of the one of a kind prince of the purple flame.

Prince-thepurpleflame-date

My Poem ‘April Hours’

It was a Sunday morning…
it was a day of rest…
it was a day that began
with a beautiful dawn’s calling…
it was a day when a great many things
from around the world
peaked my interest:
there was the Royal visit of William and Kate
at the Taj Mahal –
a wonder of the world built as a monument to love…
there was the news-reports of the Japanese Earthquake –
a powerful reminder, yet again,
just how incredible and sometimes destructive
the forces of nature are.

I must have spent an hour or more
just looking back over photos and memories
taken and spent with the love of my life,
who I just cannot get enough of;
my thoughts and my imagination
danced around in my head –
fluttering, pulsing, flashing with excitement
like a handful of fireflies caught in a jar.

I was sitting in a cafe
when a mouse ran across the floor –
some people were so shocked and surprised
by the mouse’s sudden-appearance
that they immediately ran for the door…
I, however, just stayed where I was
and looked on at the commotion with awe
at just how much panic could be caused
by something so harmless and so small.

Blue-sky and golden sunshine
was the order for the day…
being a Sunday, all that I could hear
were the chimes of the church-bells
as they played;
being as it was a weekend,
there were more people out and about…
me being me, I could see and I could sense
inspiration in every direction
as if it were a pheromone
that I could somehow smell.

The month of April is significant to me
in lots of ways…
the month of April for some
is synonymous with rain showers…
the month of April has always been
filled with days of colour, growth, and change…
and of course a very special birthday…
the month of April,
the month of the calendar year
in which we are now living in
is like a flower of power
that blooms over and over again
more beautifully with ever passing April hour.

My Poem ’35 years’

It’s been 35 years
since I first saw the light of the world…
it’s been 35 years
since I first made my first sound…
it’s been 35 years
since I first heard
and tried to say my first word…
it’s been 35 years
since I first looked up to the sky
and I saw the very first sculpture
that formed in the clouds…
35 years of thoughts,
35 years of dreams,
35 years of memories,
35 years of the Earth and me.

When I think back
there are things that happened
that now in retrospect
seem more like a dream than reality…
when I remember where I once was,
and with whom, it sometimes feels like
a story that I am thinking about writing,
or something that may one day be
the inspiration for future poetry…
when I see photos taken when I was a child,
or those taken just a year ago
on a bridge high above the Tennessee river,
every memory to me feels like
they just happened yesterday…
when I think about how things have changed for me,
and for everybody around the world,
I sometimes find myself speechless
and unable to know exactly what to say.

I cannot thank my amazing parents,
Bernadette and David Hastings,
for all that they have given me
every day since the day that I was born…
I cannot thank my beautiful fiance, Melissa,
enough for giving me the gift
every day of unlimited and unbounded love…
I cannot thank my loving family enough
for the smiles and for the world of happiness
that continues to refill
my floor-less ocean of emotion and happy tears…
I cannot thank everybody who I have known
throughout my life who have shared
moments with me over of the last 35 years.

My Poem ‘The Haunting of 14 Yucca Drive’

There once was a girl called “Shelby”,
Who came from a family who were not poor
But did not have a lot of money…
Shelby liked dolls,
Shelby liked teddy bears…
Shelby liked dogs,
Shelby never went to sleep at night
Without first saying her prayers.

When she was alive
Shelby was the happiest girl
You could ever want to meet
And was never seen
To ever frown or cry,
Shelby was always laughing and smiling –
However after she died
Shelby hardly said a word to anyone
And just used to walk in silence
from room to room
Through her old house at 14 Yucca Drive.

Dead, just as she was when she was alive,
Shelby was sweet and kind;
Even though she could
Only be seen most of the time
By animals and children
Shelby was always there
And could make her living best-friend
“Hailie” laugh on a dime.

The Dial family who now lived at 14 Yucca Drive
Always knew that their house had something about it –
as if it was haunted –
It was just one of those houses that
Just had that spooky vibe…
Hailie could see Shelby,
And so could the family dogs, Snuggles,
Moo Moo, Bella, and Gracie –
Bella could often be seen
looking up to a seemingly empty wall,
When in fact she was actually being
Petted by Shelby from her nose to her tail.

Shelby’s story is a sad one…
Shelby’s life as she knew it
As a happy little girl
Ended one sunny afternoon
When she ran out in front of a truck
On State-line Road…
The truck driver managed
To slam on his breaks,
But Shelby was hit just hard enough
To send her flying to the ground
Where she lay out-cold
Without even a single broken bone.

Shelby died,
Shelby went to sleep…
And when she awoke
It was as if she had just
Woken up from a nap –
Shelby had no idea
What had happened to her
Nor how much time had passed…
But slowly but surely
Shelby realized that years had gone by –
Shelby’s family eventually sold up and moved away –
Even when Shelby was given
Her one-way ticket to heaven,
She said “no thank you”
And told the angel who came to her
That she wanted to stay.

So Shelby stayed on Earth
And she remained the girl she was
Wearing the same clothes
She was wearing when she died
For years – sometimes she could be seen
By sensitive adults, as well as by
Animals and imaginative children –
But for the most part
Shelby spent most of her time
Remembering her life
When she was alive,
And hoping one day
To find the one who could help her
Move on from her sadness
And free her from her
accidental Haunting of 14 Yucca Drive.

ghost-girl-shelby

My Poem ‘When the sun shines I smile’

When the sun shines
I smile, because I know that the light
that I embrace and I am energized by
was sent by you…
when the sun rises
I know that it wont be long
until I see your beautiful face come into view…
when the sun burns in the sky
I feel the part of you inside me
reaching out for the part of me inside you…
when the sun lights-up the world around me
my heart leaps out of my chest
and takes my soul with it
so that I may see you in your dreams,
and we may have a late-night/early-morning
secret rendezvous.

No moments could ever compare
to the times that we spend together –
we both have waited
and we are still waiting for each other,
but there has been and there always will be
a divine-will drawing us and holding us together;
I now know why for my entire life
I have been following a path of fallen white feathers…
each and every-one has been leading me
in one direction: to you,
and no matter what you say
I know that your secret-identity
is that you are an angel of heaven.

Some things in life we choose,
and some things in life are planned;
some days we might want to try
an out-of-the-ordinary choice of transport,
but when it comes to where you are going,
to whom, and why, then we can all rest-assured
that whomever we are meant to be with
will always be there and waiting for us
when we land.

Anything that has repercussions…
anything that when dropped into an ocean
or into a pool of water
creates ripple-effects…
anything that creates a momentary
life-changing interruption…
anything that seizes and overcomes your senses…
anything that beats and does not stop beating
is only comparable in its importance
to that of the love and the heart of an angel…
I love and I am loved by an angel,
and to me there is nothing and no-one on Earth
who could ever be more perfect.

The sun is still shining,
and I am still smiling;
angels walk and fly among us –
they want us to believe in them,
just as they believe in us;
when the sun shines on you,
and you cast a shadow like that of a sun-dial,
stare into the light and then close your eyes quickly –
and the face which you see flashing before you eyes
will be the object of your heart’s desire,
and at that moment imagine like I do
that you are with your angel
who always makes you smile.

My Poem ‘In and Out’

Art is in my blood…
I have been making art
since before I knew that I could;
inspiration has been flooding my brain
since before I knew that I had
such a magical world within me
called “imagination”;
art is a part of everybody’s day,
but sometimes to find art’s true meaning
you have to stop looking
and allow yourself to embrace
the gift of pure-procrastination.

I believe in destiny –
which means that I believe
that everything that we all do
we do because we are meant to;
I believe in karma –
which means that I believe
that actions and intentions
have consequences,
and we should all try to focus
on the light in our life
and not the shadows
that want to pull us into the dark;
I believe in true love –
which means that I believe
that no matter who you meet and when
there is a heart out there
that you are meant to
give your all to,
that belongs to someone
who has always been meant to be with you
and has always been meant to love you;
I believe in humanity –
which means that I believe
that no matter how many differences exist right now
there will one day come a time
when we will see ourselves
in all our forms as what we are:
a masterpiece of form, function, and art.

Hope has taught me to stay optimistic,
even when I am surrounded by impossibilities;
poetry has taught me how to ride out a storm,
and to survive and understand life
through the magic of language and words;
imagination has taught me
that the number of worlds and realities out there
yet to be discovered totals in the realms of infinity;
love has taught me that the most incredible
and breath-taking adventure of a life-time
awaits everybody who has yet to be intoxicated
by the timeless obsession and addiction that has no cure.

We all breathe in,
and we all breathe out…
we all have things that we need,
and we all have people whom we could never live without…
we all feel inspired,
and we all sometimes feel pains of doubt…
but the most important thing to remember
and to act-out is to not stop feeling
and expressing ourselves,
because that is the reason that we are all born
with the senses that we are born with –
learning how to use those senses
to their fullest is what life is all about.

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