There is truth in blood.
Words go unseen with a hiss from the tongue-
What an interesting way
Blood runs
Watch the eyes first, the face will soon follow-
No longer behind words hidden in the wind
Copyright 2017 -M. Taggart
Month: January 2017
A Poem
Give each line a future-
Lost is the respect for the one never written-
Your mirror awaits
copyright 2017 -M. Taggart
A Poem
With lids closed-
View the finest canvas-
A timely unveiling
copyright 2017 -M. Taggart
Read more poems here:
https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/category/poem/
Let’s not tell the clouds how to be – Odd Walking Thoughts
Cheers.
No Saturday no Wednesday nor Monday. They aren’t real. The clouds pass overhead, along with the birds and whatever else may come, and know nothing of these things. These pressures created to push things and the things they push are you and I yet we do not need to give them existence if we’d like not to. Let’s sit on a cliff and listen to the wind and watch clouds. Let’s not tell them where to blow or when they ought to stop. Let’s then look higher than the clouds, after the darkness comes, and watch the stars and realize they also do nothing with time and care not about our pressures we’ve created.
The Cabin – A Poem
The strong need to write
Crawl into the cabin
Close the pine door
Start a fire in the small wood stove
And listen
The mountain has its own voice
Deep snow softening sounds
Christmas trees covered in white
Blessed creatures living in the smell of evergreen
You can hear them at night-
Scurrying, chasing, playing
The wind adds either calm, mystery,
or even severity-
They can’t find you here-
They can, only if you let them in-
Are they coming close?
No matter,
The cabin allows us to shut them out.
The ones who find any means-
means to bring negativity to all situations
stealing momentum, stealing serenity,
taking self-
Don’t, let’s not let them-
Find the cabin
Close the pine door
Light your fire
copyright 2017 -M. Taggart
(photo taken by my wife.)
i SHOUDN’t – A Poem
I change diapers. I clean vomit. I wipe on my knees-
I am a white man who is privileged. I am the devil.
I didn’t get paid in December for my work-
Again in January I wait-
The best I have is nothing
Look as the cat hunches
My eyes drop
My child runs from me
The Ice In My Glass is Full
Has it come to grow?
Again we wait
It’s us who’s created this madness
It’s us they’d like gone
I love my family deeply
I listen, as his pitter patter widens
don’t let us…
-M. Taggart copyright 2017
A Brutal Thought – Fiction, Short Story.
Fiction- A Brutal Thought
Written by -M. Taggart
copyright 2017
A Brutal Thought
‘Did you see that? He’s on the back deck. He leaned over the railing and puked blood. It was all over his t-shirt too.’ Mona said. ‘I’m serious.’
They drove further and she no longer could see the man standing on the deck. ‘Should we go back? Or call someone?’
‘Call who? He did it to himself. All that booze he drinks.’ Eric said.
‘Even if he is a drunk he might be a good person.’ Mona said.
‘All he does is sit inside. Each day. He does nothing. I don’t know what kind of man does that. Rachel says he stands in front of his windows early in the morning, naked with the lights on, hoping someone sees him. Fuck that guy. I hope he pukes blood. I hope he kills himself.’ Eric said.
**
Pete leaned away from the window. He could hear a car coming. He lived on a dead end street. He was working with his shirt off. He was writing a marketing campaign and he’d just finished the first draft. He liked to work near the window. When his eyes became irritated from the screen he’d look from the screen to the woods and back again. Making his pupils adjust. Then he’d blink rapidly.
A neighbor once drove by and looked into the window of his office just as he stood from his desk. It was 5 am and dark outside. His office light had been on. Just as he stood, his neighbor, Rachel, drove by his office window. He wore only briefs. On that morning he couldn’t sleep. He’d been up late testing a new product and wanted to finish the process.
The car passing by was Joe. Joe wouldn’t care if his shirt was on or off. Joe knew he worked his ass off. Joe had once asked what he did for employment. He liked when someone asked. He felt to assume was a human condition making the race less intelligent on a daily schedule. When Joe had asked, he’d taken his phone out of his pocket and showed him exactly what he did. ‘You think of that shit?’ asked Joe. ‘Yup. I do.’ Joe drove through and gave a quick honk. He could see Joe’s hand waving over the roof of his car.
It was late afternoon. There was a breeze that moved the leaves around nicely and there were huge puffy clouds to look at. He wanted to be outside. He wanted to celebrate his new client and to cheers the afternoon sun. Every day he promised himself to find something to celebrate. A new idea, a good conversation, a line from Hemingway that shredded his being to the core; or for being alive and watching a cloud formation float overhead knowing it’d never been seen before and will never be seen again. He tossed a white t-shirt on and walked to the kitchen to begin his transition from work, to life on the deck with a beer and a book.
The beer was very dark. It was nearly thick. It was a strong porter. He poured the porter quickly into a frosted mug that had been in the freezer. The head was an inch thick. Watching the foam shrink and lower he poured the remaining beer from the bottle to his mug. The deck and the sun begged him to join them. Though of course wood and sunshine can’t speak, not normally. But they do, in fact, they do. Especially if you’re able to listen, he thought.
He pulled the sliding glass door open and stepped onto the deck. The beer sloshed and foamed up. He had tripped slightly and now wore a bit of beer on his t-shirt. ‘Adds to the moment’, he thought. He took a pull of beer, which was mostly foam, and leaned over the deck railing to spit it out. He noticed Eric and Mona’s vehicle passing by. Mona’s eyes flashed in his direction. He wanted to wave, but they were gone too quickly. He hoped they’d had a nice day.
**
Interested in reading another?
A Poem
Closed curtains borrow time-
Etching longways with gripe-
Reluctantly open them, see-
-M. Taggart copyright 2017
A Mother Does Shine
Winter blew in. You could feel it with your tongue if you wanted. Old October trees looked desolate.
The wood stove cracked. Have you heard the small mouth speak?
Snow began to fall. A pregnant thought came to me. Was I the one to speak it? My mother was ragged. Her mouth was grim. She was an angry women. Her fingers were cracked and crooked.
It was our fault. All of ours. We pushed her. Her dry knuckles bleed. We didn’t ask if she needed help. We watched her push and bleed. Her tongue flicked as she watched us leave the house and we’d run as soon as we hit the last step.
-M. Taggart
Hemingway Quotes
‘There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.’ – Hemingway
‘The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.- Hemingway
“The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too.” –Hemingway
Enjoy your day. Especially if you are writing today.
Matt
mtaggartwriter 