From a common sunrise we began.
By noon we no longer remember
the crawling from the beginning
And at sunset the pace has become
and excited action; much like the
gliding of a Raven as the search
for the deepest midnight calls to
the very structure of our souls and
in that darkest hour we feel what
we’ll discover and it’s because of this
that there’s no stopping the next
common sunrise.
-M. Taggart
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
There’s a place to view. It’s beneath the floor. If you know this, it’s you. If another lays their head on this floor and finds your place, what then? We dove deep and saw much and now we ask the floor, “Why did you betray us?” and the floor replied, “We also were betrayed. Can you help?” It was early morning and the floor felt cool on the face. The floor shouldn’t be speaking but there wasn’t anyone else to ask.
-M. Taggart
4/15
I’ll accept any awakening
Willing to find me
We are never done
-M. Taggart
Sent from my iPhone
I’ve sat for hours while telling myself to get up, but didn’t. I’d look at my feet. Or knees. I’d look at my skin. The fullness and the imperfections. Or I’d look out the window and watch the wind move leaves around. Each time I reminded myself to get up I’d find importance in a new leaf or a new wrinkle. I’d need to know all there was.
-M. Taggart
Sent from my iPhone
From time to time I’ll mention a short story I wrote for my cousin, Adam. He was in a tough situation and the only item left for me to give was to write. And I did. I wrote from the heart. He read the story and loved it.
An excerpt, Chapter 1
His heart pounded in his chest and his ears rang. He was in hell. He was sure of it. This moment; with this feeling of sickness, and pure hatred for what he felt, was hell. Welcome to hell.
No vomit came from his stomach. No vomit came from his throat and no vomit came from his mouth. His mid-section wretched up and down looking like an October cat in a filthy dance. Up and down his body rose and nothing came out. Yet he smelled his own vomit lingering all about him. Again, he rose up, and again he produced nothing. Beads of sweat were on his forehead and it wasn’t long before they fell onto the surface of the tub. He lurched heavily downward with a massive cough and something came up. Something vile and red landed onto the tub’s floor. Black. He saw nothing but black as he slowly faded and fainted again.
-Below are links to the amazon and Barnes&Noble website pages where you can download the short story. There’s a dog, mud, a river, and graphic situations such as the above excerpt.
Thanks for visiting. I invite you to read the reviews. Cheers.
Barnes&Noble link-
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dont-be-a-sally-matthew-taggart/1116001656?ean=9781483503097
If only words had weight so we might not hurl them at each other so recklessly. -M. Taggart
There is no rush to giving up. -M. Taggart
Let me be clear. We’re a nation of pussy’s. That’s not hard to understand. I grew up thinking people around me were too afraid to be themselves, or too afraid not to be. I watched as adults pussy footed around issues like fucking their neighbor which caused a divorce and the kids were lucky enough to be lied to. Mother’s fucked colleagues and had children outside of wedlock, yet didn’t tell the family. It’s a great way to live, to be too much of a cunt to tell your family you‘re a slut. Oh wait., I shouldn’t be writing like this. The PC police tells me what to do and how to act. Then again, I never did care. Our nation is filled with pussy’s who are too afraid to speak exactly how they’d like. I’m not one of them. Fuck off. -And fathers fucked every nice ass they could and we knew because our mothers told us. You can’t hold a job when you’re drunk and fuck. Yet the same mouths that preached this were sucking off their boss because they thought it would never be known. It’s like the fucking church showing young boys how to handle the full blow erection the priest had. Oh, that bother you? Good it bothers me too. I’ve been holding off a while now. I really shouldn’t. People are boring and the worst that’ll happen is nothing. I’ve never been anything but me. Cheers.
Calm Now –
For your shadow harbors more-
Than your person-
copyright 2015-M. Taggart.
Originally published on November 22, 2015-
https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/2015/11/22/a-poem-shadow/
More poems:
https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/category/poem/
Enjoy your morning,
Matt.
