poem-

Opinions stand erect on blades of grass
struggling to be heard, begging for validation,
as our sun fades, shutting all eyes from sight.

-M. Taggart

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Odd Walking Thoughts – No secrets in this room.

It was found in the hallway of a small home that the original insanity within the abuser’s mind was not as deeply disturbed as the tortured. Delicious was this new found possession of force dripping from our knuckles. -Have we really ventured back, or have we stayed; seeing from tops of trees on a clear day is never compared to seeing too many eyes telling how sick they truly are. They all speak with the same cadence until we break them. There will be no secrets in this room.

-M. Taggart
Copyright 2018

Published Work:
https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/my-book/

Odd Walking Thoughts

I don’t bother to fix inside out shirts. I let them be what they are until I put them on again. It doesn’t matter to me that they sit in a drawer inside out. Hell, they might even like the view. Then. Boom! One random day they are picked up, flung about and turned outside themselves where they can see the world walk by. I think it’d be a nice life to be an inside out shirt. But now I need to know where the best place is for a shirt to think.

-M. Taggart

Poem-

I find it freeing to not put
boundaries on how, or what, I write.
The few times I’ve placed a fence around my words,
in an attempt to control what might come out,
I felt sick.
I bounce around from old memories,
to the smell of mud within a short story,
to the reality of what the weather is. Just now I opened our second story window and removed the screen to feel the cool drops land on my hands from the dripping of the snow melt from the roof. The drops splashed, then ran in streaks until again continuing their fall to the ground. I cupped a small portion and pulled my hand back inside; small drops fell onto the carpet next to my feet. They sparkled as they fell. I could nearly see through them, for a brief and small moment, but that too is gone.

-M. Taggart
Copyright 2018

Odd Walking Thoughts – Ride Time

I understand how religion cuts
tell a boy to eat a crumb
he may not want to
Stomp his hand until he eats
Tell a teenage girl to Not
go out, slap her, point your
pathetic fat finger in her face.
Tell a man how to walk
like the rest of the sheep.
We listen to crumbs fall and care about where they land
more than we care about the voices that caress us at night. Put a hat on a man facing a jury he’s aligned with. Stitch his mouth. The hat has spoken and the willing jury stands in approval. A funny thing happens with truth. We haven’t found the end of it yet.
Fuck your crumbs and let’s listen to non-speech with a hat until the fucking hat starts talking while your crumbs fall out of your pockets looking for work. Isn’t this a nice thing. Isn’t this such a nice fucking thing. A man once rode a ride into death on a cross.
I do wonder what he thought about a crumb. I’d like to save that man.

-M. Taggart
copyright 2018