A Poem

Hush don’t – let’s not listen-
Smiling faces echo-
Abound and again go-

Watch the smoke rise-
Lips tingle

-M. Taggart


Switch – Odd Walking Thoughts

The blackout is replaced by images and some we know.  They are everything.  A man with sad eyes watches and we push back because they make us sad.  A young girl dances in a field with a yellow flower and her dress is winding around her body. There’s dust and it switches.  A boy is kneeling.  He’s holding a frog and pushing it to his ear waiting for the frog to croak. The blackness is back because we wish to not think, but we cannot, and it continues. We’re sweeping a back room.  A women smiles and she knows something and we want to know what she’s thinking.

Slut – Odd Walking Thoughts

It’s a funny thing. The hallway I walked helped me to remember which area to place my foot. If you’d like to control the guy at the club pushing another, good luck, it won’t work. You may want to reflect upon why it matters to you. The girl who fucks constantly and is called ‘slut’- you’d like her to stop. She’s happier than you and you understand little. Sensitivity tells us to not fuck so often and to also not strut. Listen to the heart beat while the child is still within.  This may help.

Not so Ordinary.

I’ve put the book down. It’s been finished for nearly a month. It’s a WordPress author and I’ve waited. If nothing came back then there’s nothing. One scene is written so well it comes back often.

A boy was pressed against the trees. The trees held no shelter. It was late and the road was there. The boy was making his way home. I felt as though the trees and the night were perfectly lined up for this one moment. I read and turned the pages to gain what’s further.

Two cars came. The boy knew they were traveling too fast and he pushed himself into the trees, along the curve, best he could.  He listened as twigs snapped; it’s safer here.

The cars came closer. The twigs wouldn’t let him in.