Voice

My Poem “The Microphone”

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

Everyone’s voice is distinctive…
everyone’s voice can be poetic…
everyone’s voice is informative…
everyone’s voice is a gift that can
open doors and change minds –
whether that voice is audible, visual,
reflective, or creative;
but when anybody, no matter who they are
and no matter how much experience
they have, approaches a microphone
to share what they have to say
to an audience of listeners,
so many emotions can come
bubbling up to the surface –
even veterans of singing
and voice-acting find it easier
to adopt a performance persona
so that they can fully embrace
and embody the words that are in
their thoughts, from their heart,
or the words that they are
reading from a page.

Holding a microphone in your hand
can be invigorating,
putting the lips of your mouth
close to the head of a microphone
can be exciting;
but sometimes when you are talking about
something without a script to read from,
your mouth can become dry,
you can find yourself lost for words,
and you can find yourself
talking and talking and talking
because your train of thought
feels like it is stuck in reverse.

When you perform for a long time
something like a microphone can
almost feel like an extension of yourself
and a vital tool with which you use
to extend the reach of your voice…
some people live so many days
with a microphone in their hand
or in front of them that they can find
it hard to imagine a place and a time
without one present –
which is how a musician thinks
when they consider a future without
their musical instrument.

Not everybody is a born performer
and not everybody feels comfortable
expressing themselves face to face,
via video, or by communicating over the phone –
but then there are people who have
always been confident and who
always have something teetering
on the tip of their tongue
and for those people there is no better
gift to give them than that which
can allow them to transmit their voice
and their message to the masses:
an opportunity and a microphone.

My Poem “Vox”

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

Who knew that there were
so many people with a story
to tell and with a voice
able to express itself
so easily and so effectively?
Who knew that there were
so many people who had this drive
to want to let people into their life
when they do not need to?
Who knew that there were
so many people with a dream
to be able to reach as many
people as possible?
Who knew that there were
so many people who would want to
listen to other people talk about
what interests them and what inspires them?

I have always known that I liked
expressing the joy and the energy
that I felt within me
ever since I was a child,
and I have always known that
I enjoy past times like sitting and listening
to the music that is being played
and being broadcast on the normal
F.M. radio stations that people listen to,
that have “Disc Jockeys” on them
who people think they know
because they are used to listening to
their particular voice on a regular basis;
however, these days fewer people
listen to the radio than they used to –
unless they are driving down
a long stretch of highway
with nothing else to do.

So many people these days frequently listen
to music and to podcasts via streaming
services and apps that deliver content
to people all around the world,
simultaneously, over the internet…
these days there are even podcasts
and interviews recorded and shared
visually as well as vocally
which add a greater depth of expression
than can be enjoyed if something
is merely a disembodied voice;
however, there is still something amazing,
evoking, wonderful, and personal
about the experience of just listening
to someone’s voice and being told
a story in one of the fastest ways
to capture and process an idea:
by closing your eyes, by pressing play,
and by seemingly being taken away
to another place – like being entranced
into a dream state – by one of the most
powerful gifts that each of us
have at our disposal:
a one of a kind voice with which
we can articulate.

My Poem “Locutus”

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

Every collective and assembly
of individuals who seek to speak
with one voice when dealing with others
often elects one member of their society
to be the spokesperson for them
in matters of peace, diplomacy,
and the continued prosperity
of their shared consciousness,
while at the same time attempting
to announce, to advertise,
and to further their own interests
and to bolster the idea of the betterment
of those who are connected and interlinked
with every other person who makes up
the hive of knowledge, energy,
and the gift of adaptability
that their culture is built upon.

Figureheads, presidents, prime ministers,
kings, queens, ambassadors have been
sent on missions of state for centuries
in order to explore the prospect
and the possibility of assimilating
a new investment of riches in the form of
people, experience, and examples
of distinctive innovations
that surpass that which is already known,
and it is the act of seeking out
and trying to understand
what is presently a mystery
that has driven the course of the history
of all the empires and also the democracies
that have risen, those that have flourished,
and those that have survived
where others have fallen
because the victorious
chose to change some things
while continuing to stay true to their
underlying pursuit of a vision
and of a state of perfection for their nation.

Sometimes an individual’s voice
and their face can get lost in a crowd
of people who all have their own
personal perspective on what
the reason is for why things
should be the way that they are –
and when that happens
some people naturally seek out
a representative
to speak on their behalf,
and just as long as the person
who is naturally chosen
because they somehow embody
what needs to be conveyed
stays true to the message
and the ethics of who they are
supposed to be representing,
then unless their advancements
lead to conflict there should be no reason
why no one who is anyone
would not listen to a “Locutus” –
in other words, someone who is literally:
“the one who speaks”.

Resistance is not futile

My Poem “Alexa”

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

In this day and age,
we all have access
to knowledge and information
like never before…
at this point in time,
and at any time of the day or the night,
everybody can reach out,
touch, tap, and use their voices
to acquire the gift of a response,
the answer to a question,
the thrill of discovery and understanding…
doors that were once closed are opening,
access is finally being granted by the insightful
to those who always found it hard
being that kid at the back of the class
in school who was afraid
to raise their hand for fear of being
ridiculed for asking a “dumb question”.

Questions are important –
most of the time, in my opinion,
questions are more important than answers…
Questions, inquiries, wanderings,
looking, listening, and asking
why such a thing is the way that it is
and where something or someone came from
are the steps that need to be taken
by everyone with a curious mind
in order to stimulate and rejuvenate
wonder into their lives.

Our access to knowledge, images,
and multiple ways of communication
has never been so accessible:
we carry both the keys, the doorways,
the portals, and the windows
to the worlds within worlds
that interconnect the majority
of human life on this planet
in the form of mobile
receivers and transmitters
which we carry around with us
and we can interact with,
share a conversation with,
and inquire to,
which have become our guides
to a wealth of information,
inspiration, art, music, places,
and which have become
the artificial intelligences
that we use on a daily basis
to assist us in bringing order to our lives,
which we can even call to attention
by uttering a single word to awaken them –
such as “Siri”, “Google”,
“Cortana”, or “Alexa”.

My Poem “Always be a rebel”

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

Inspiration is the lightning,
thunder is the art…
writers and creators are constantly playing god,
creating new worlds, creating new people,
and giving reason and meaning to people
looking for an answer at a time
when they are willing to do anything,
to leap into anything, to experience everything,
no matter the cost…
every artist should be a rebel…
every artist should not fear going
where they have never been before…
every artist should take any and every idea
that comes to them and run, shape,
and make something with that idea
that burns within them like a flame…
that first idea is but the start, the spark,
the initial flash of light in the dark,
and it takes the passion of the beating heart
of a true artist to not be afraid
to watch that idea grow and change,
find its own identity and its own voice…
knowing where to begin with anything is never easy –
but the most important thing to do
is to make a start of any kind
that is significant and sets up
what came before, what is to come,
and why you decided to create something in the first place…
rebels are artists, and artists should always be rebels.

My Poem “Connecting…”

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

So much of life is about finding connections…
so much of life involves beginning from somewhere new…
so much of life is about making choices and decisions…
so much of life involves everybody having to dig deeper
and further discover more about something that they never knew…
so much awaits those who do not listen too intently
to the voices who vehemently proclaim
that something cannot be done…
so much can be attained by those who choose
to look beyond the horizon for the answers that they seek…
so much music becomes un-muted to our ears
when we listen to the hopes and the dreams
of those who love what they do
because they do what they love…
so much can be expressed when we no longer surround
ourselves with the walls and the barriers
that can sometimes make us feel claustrophobic
and like a Goldfish in a fish-bowl…
so much needs to be seen… so much needs to be said…
so much happens instantaneously and beyond our control…
so much comes easy to us when we put our faith and our trust
into that which calls out from within us to be allowed to shine…
so many people do not have the confidence in their own voice
and they shy away from any and all opportunities
when and where they can open up their soul
like a flower that becomes their most alive when they are blooming…
everyone in this world is a work of art in the making –
and like the sometimes hidden meaning of a piece of art,
the only way to see what is ever-present
is to reach out with all of your senses
and embrace every moment with which you are connecting…

My Poem “Wild at Heart”

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

Everyone is wild at heart…
everyone shows just how wild they are
every time their eyes grow wide, they cry,
and they open their mouth in a scream or in a laugh…
everyone is young at heart…
everyone shows just how youthful, rebellious,
and energetic they can still be –
even if most of the time they feel like
they have to “act their age” and stay in after dark…
everybody always has memories of times in their life
when they were able to act without any fear of boundaries
and allow their body and their mind to run free –
because nobody ever forgets that feeling of liberation,
that unbounded power that is at the centre
of the inner light of glee that rises
like the golden light of the sun
that glistens over the waves of a morning sea…
even within the most serene and tranquil of landscapes
there lies a wild spirit whose heart is always racing…
even within the quietest and the most remote places
of solitude there can be heard a call
that some find invigorating…
ever since I was a child, my mind, my eyes,
my emotions, my drive, the voice within me
that I have drawn my inspiration and my strength from,
has been that of the wolf within me –
however, it wasn’t until I found the soulmate of my dreams
that I realized that I have always been a part of a union
of two halves – one male, one female –
and two souls bound together
because they are one and the same: wild at heart.

My Poem “Transmute”

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

The essence of all art is to transmute…
the art of being an artist
is having the gift to be inspired by something,
to be transformed by something,
and to create something that elevates something
to a new level of understanding…
the spirit of everything changes as it grows
and as it interacts with all that nature creates
when it endeavors to carve out a brand new groove…
the one thing that is irrefutable about life
is that it is changeable, sometimes unpredictable,
and everybody’s short time to shine
is something that is mutual…
as everything and everybody grows
their voice changes, the biology changes,
their psychology changes, the spirituality changes –
because life, in a nutshell, is all about change
in so many ways – even the sky above changes twice a day
from black to blue, and from blue to black…
the universe is not the same as it was when it began,
and neither is anybody the same person
their whole life through –
and that is a good thing, because what would a universe,
a world, a seed, an insect, a flower, an animal,
a person be if they were unable to transmute?

My Poem “Siren of the Stars”

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

When I look above
my attention is instantly captured…
when I listen to the hum of the night
the barrier between reality
and my dreams becomes fractured…
within the same moment
I see light and dark –
a bright sun and a full-moon…
among the stars
I see a pattern, a play,
a dance of light –
and then I see the sparkling eyes
and the perfect smile of my muse,
and my mind feels as if
it has left my body,
and I feel as if I am
floating through space and seeing
the multiple dimensions of the universe
one after the other…
I could be anywhere, at anytime,
at any age, at any moment of my life,
and all that I have to do
is look up to the sky and open my soul
and see, hear, and feel with all my senses
the siren of the stars.

My Poem ‘My Jam’

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

From All Hail The Silence, to BT…
from The 1975, to David Bowie…
from Savage Garden, to Johnny Cash…
from Ed Sheeran, to Set It Off…
from John Lennon, to Walk The Moon…
from Young Guns, to Muse…
from CHVRCHES, to Christian Burns…
from Bruce Springsteen, to Green Day…
from Lady Antebellum, to James Bay…
from Carrie Underwood, to a-ha…
from Armin van Buuren, to Bruno Mars…
from Bon Jovi, to Bryan Adams…
from Coldplay, to Michael Jackson…
from Tears For Fears, to Sixpence None the Richer…
from Daft Punk, to New Order…
from Prince, to Deadmau5…
from Tracy Chapman, to Crowded House…
and many many more –
that is but a selection of the artists
and the bands who make music
and who have created songs
that I adore and I listen to over and over.

Music is a great source of inspiration for a writer,
and the music and the songs that inspire me the most
are those with a message to them that touches my heart
and sets off a chain-reaction
and a rejuvenation of spirit within me like no other –
from Electronic Dance Music, to Rock…
from Classical, to Pop…
from fast, to slow…
from a ballad, to something wholly-instrumental –
I find great peace and beauty,
I find great love and serenity,
in hearing the voice and the music
of the heart of an artist, or artists,
that bridges the gap from my ears, to my mind…
from my imagination, to my soul.

My love for all types of music
stems from when I was a boy –
even as a child, I knew there was something special
to what I heard all-around me,
which others might just have
thought was background noise…
my heart has a rhythm to it
and it creates its own music with every beat –
and even now, when I hear a great song
that I haven’t heard before,
it doesn’t take me long
before my heart skips-a-beat
and I am tapping away with my fingers
and moving in-time, to the music I hear,
with every movement of my feet…
when I hear my favourite songs,
I secretly have this insatiable urge
to “bust-a-move” and dance –
there is a deep-seated reason
why music means so much to me,
there is a truth to why
I could never live without music
that stares right back at me every day
in the mirror of my mind…
whenever I listen to my playlist on my iPod,
I always get millions of sparks of inspiration,
and for a long-time after I finish listening
to my favourite songs I still hear
the echoes of the music
that make up “My Jam”.