There’s something about
crying in the rain
that makes life
a little more real.
– M. Taggart
Month: January 2020
Poem – Cubicle Heads #pros
As a child I rode the bus to school.
I would crawl under the large green seats
and slither my way, under and around legs,
sneakers, boots, and the giggles of my friends.
I liked the dirt that covered my clothes
from the floor of the bus.
I liked the feeling of breaking the rules.
I think of the first office I worked in after
graduating college. I think of how many
cubicles fit into the square footage of the office
and about how I looked when poking my head
above the cubicle wall; always, there would be
at least one other head doing the same thing,
no doubt wondering how to break out of this
matrix and go back to crawling under seats
while listening to the giggles and laughter of
freedom.
-M. Taggart
Poem – Will It
A new thought, subcutaneous in nature,
provoked an uncontrollable desolation-
To the North sits newly consecrated ground-
Here though, lay the cracks of today, splintered
with fear as the sun dips while we search for
pocketed isolation to decipher entrance to the light.
-M. Taggart
A big box of matrix
“I’m not scared of death, it’s the process leading up to it that has my interest.” -M. Taggart
#Be Original
An English teacher once told our entire High School class, “You need to know the rules of writing and grammar before you can break them.” Completely untrue. Be original. -M. Taggart
#-M. Taggart Odd Walking Thoughts
Sometimes I wonder where the line falls. And who’ll jump on which side. Then again, I don’t fucking care. It’ll fall, or not, if I watch, or not, and we’ll all jump into the same space in time where we walk and walk and walk the same routine and hopefully not complain about ourselves and others to the point of evacuation of self..and there we are, waking up in the morning with another sunrise to view and we look at our better halves, and children, and co-workers, and friends; where the line falls really means nothing much. It’s a gift to be here.
-M. Taggart
Share it, but, Don’t steal it. I’ve written 265 of them. I plan on writing a thousand more.
https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/category/odd-walking-thoughts/
‘Bodies In The Basement’ has been nominated for Publication of the Year (Non-Poetic) on Spillwords. Voting Starts now.
Hi Friends,
My short story, ‘Bodies In The Basement,’ has been nominated for Publication of the Year (Non-Poetic) on Spillwords. Voting takes place from January 26th – January 30th.
Please consider voting for my story via this link:
And you can read the story here:
Thanks everyone and Cheers!
Matt
In plain sight
You odd ablative, I see you. I shake hands with rocks while you watch.
-M. Taggart
I hope you all have an odd and interesting day!
poem- love thy Lion
The dryer is on.
I just put the bed sheets in.
I’m in my office
thinking about Gavin,
and listening to the soft
mumbling of the dryer.
The cat is on the floor,
next to my chair,
looking for attention.
Outside, I can hear the wind,
it’s not strong, not today,
but it’s there and I can see it
gently pushing the cold winter
tree branches.
Soon, I’ll leave my office,
walk down to the end of our driveway,
and wait.
I’ll kick at the ice and snow
until the bus arrives.
The school bus doors will open
and the familiar whooshing sound
will pass through me
as I climb the bus stairs
to gather my four-year-old heart.
He’ll be buckled into the seat,
just in back of the bus driver,
and I’ll say, “Hi, Gavin. It’s time
to get off the bus.”
He’ll reply, “I’m not Gavin.”
“Then, who are you today?”
“I’m king of the jungle. I’m a Lion.”
“Well hello, Lion. Let’s go work on your puzzle.”
“OK, but, I’m a Lion.”
Yes, you are.
And always will be.
-M. Taggart
The Drabble
One of the best I’ve ever written.
A girl. A thought. Yellow.
‘People think I’m crazy. I think a lot. I think when I think. If my eyes seem volatile, they may be, or I’m lost in a non-linear perpetual sliding thought and when I break my mind I come out of it.’
Read it here, on The Drabble.
mtaggartwriter 