poem – awaken

What’s an awakening but the moment one realizes
self, with ability to stretch into another’s soul without
having caused injury, or cast judgement; instead
understanding the completeness of individuality,
and where we fit? Born, alongside ourselves, always.

-M. Taggart

Coronavirus in bloom

Truth needs to be.

The Coronavirus is unsettling.

Day to day life is being affected.

I won’t ignore it.

Neither will my friend, Ana, an EU citizen, and author. “Frustrated at myself for feeling so powerless. Frustrated at us as a nation for reacting the way we apparently are.”

https://analindenblog.wordpress.com/2020/03/13/that-mandatory-coronavirus-post-my-two-cents-and-the-ugliness-in-us/

Read on. It’s good for the brain.

Matt

poetry

there’s no definition
I care for

you write
what comes

and there it is

and here we sit
or stand
or even walk while we read

some words stick inside you
some are just, gone

some come back again

it’s not for everyone
but, sitting near a window overlooking
an evergreen gently dancing in the wind
is just fine for me

-M. Taggart

 

#Short Story

‘I’m a Lion’
Based on True Events
Written by -M. Taggart

I’m a Lion

“It’s not always about coyotes, Dad.” The windows were down while they drove along the dirt road. The wind crossed through the cabin of the truck and back into the forest.

“There are coyotes out there.”

“But, it’s not always about the coyotes, Dad.”

“I know.”

“If there was a coyote that tried to get you, I’d used my sharp teeth and kill that coyote. But, it’s not always coyotes. Sometimes it’s wolves too and mountain lions. I’ll kill them with my long claws and sharp teeth.”

“I love your imagination, honey,” his mother said. She turned her head forward again. “I don’t remember doing things like this. We went on drives, but it was as if I wasn’t allowed to have my own thoughts. I was just, there. Did you ever feel like that?”

“No.” He filed through images of his memory, recalling playing in mud with his brother and having stick wars against neighborhood children. Riding bikes and fishing and pretending to be a private in the military.

“Anyway, Dad, it’s not always about coyotes.”

He watched the dust follow the truck in the rear view mirror. It drifted slowly, and toward the end of the trail the dust was gone again.

 

-M. Taggart

Author of the award winning short story, ‘Bodies In The Basement.’ Which can be read via the link below.

https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/bodies-in-the-basement-awarded-publication-of-the-year-non-poetic-spillwords-press-nyc-2019/

 

poem-

I’m disappointed in you.
Raising your fist,
in front of a child.
When the time is right,
I’ll tell you this to your face.
As I told you exactly what I thought
that night-

There’s no excuse for abuse, old man.
How’s your shame feel?

If you read things correctly-
Not your strongest characteristic-
You saw the disappointment
in my eyes, as you threatened to hit me
while your hand clenched my shirt,
fist back and raised.
I stared you down.

Coward.

I never raised my hands.
No need to.

No Grandfather should act this way
in front of a three year old.

And no father should put his finger
in the face of his daughter
and Yell, “Shut the Fuck up.”

That was the moment
you lost the entire narcissistic game you put into place.

Can’t bully a man like me.
I look forward to our next meeting.
I look forward to what I’ll say.
See, while in jail, I was told,
“Use your words.”

Seems to me you should chase wisdom’s tail.
Seems to me you never knew who you were, or are;
facades until completion won’t amount to truth.

I’ve had a lifetime of hardships.
I’m Not a follower.
Told you this.

You didn’t listen.

A narcissist never does.

-M. Taggart

They say to not call a narcissist out. I disagree. I did. And I will continue to. Their rage is that of a five year old child. Small. Weak. I’m a narcissists worst nightmare.