On people being people

7.53 billion of us. At the end of 2017. There’s a small graph on google showing a steady increase of our populating this planet. We chew things, walk, or not, and sometimes are nice to one another. Other times we war. Internally, literally, then with family, and of course there’s always D-Day as an example. Micro-Macro. Care to jump on a breeze and float down a nothing? I’m slightly sure. A piece of my morning went exactly as I hoped it might which almost always never happens. But, it did, so I’ll wait to see what else takes place and while living I’ll do my best to remember I’m but a very small thing on this very large rock floating around in a much larger ‘piece-of-space.’ And I can’t help but wonder, do many of us ever stop looking at our shoes?

Cheers

Matt

Poem

A shadowed sound sees you too
having shared your guile
It wasn’t for a child to find such a thing
as it wasn’t for a shadow to speak at all
Tonight the bearded child crawls
The empty bottle
The blank thoughts
unaware of his searching

-M. Taggart

Odd Walking Thoughts

Cloudy whispers sank near the window asking for more. We held our mind under steam filled moments screaming. No more doors without locks. No more drawers to be pulled. The brushes and combs were dead while everything else looked on.

 

-M. Taggart

Poem – Sunday

Sunday mornings lighten the heart.
It wasn’t always like this,
but has somehow found itself
nestled in place with the morning dew
and first glimpse of sunrise.
Through the New England mountains,
covered in forests, and lined with old rock walls
long ago forgotten and found again;
like a palpitating mind, not full of fear,
but of growth and hunger having transferred
any heaviness of chest to logic of the mind.

-M. Taggart

Good morning, everyone.

Poem – painful goodbye

She cried at work

her makeup ran down her forty-something
year-old-face

she looked a bit bad

he didn’t want her anymore
The lawn guy with his own
business

Mr. Z

He came in sometimes
i guess he was done
doing that

She cried with her dress on
We worked in a store selling
silver and she was the manager

I looked at her crying

I told her,
look in the mirror
and tell yourself
you’re beautiful

she cried harder

I don’t work there
anymore

-M. Taggart