Poem- Unveiled Arrogance

Selected decisions effected the
executions by which consequences
reflected motion purposely put into
place by the exact one whose actions
were called to the floor in front of
all the players they wished not to see,
and through the open viewership,
their greatest shame became reality.

-M. Taggart


Walk to work #flash fiction

Walk to Work
Written by -M. Taggart

They said it was going to be grey. They said to wear a coat in the morning. I thought of my coat after not wearing it. A bit like I thought about how my feet moved forward on the concrete. Sometimes a foot would move just over an old piece of something, like gum, and then the other foot would fix the system by stepping on the next one. Of course this would be done in reverse to correct it all. A boy on a bike rode passed me. He didn’t look at me. I tried; maybe it was me. I quickened my step and stopped looking at how my feet made progress on cement, instead I found levity in the bridge ahead. Underneath was a smooth rolling river. If I closed my eyes and listened well enough I could hear the smallest of gurgling. It was nice to hear.

-M. Taggart

photo taken 3/3/21

matrix

We’re on to something here.

Aren’t we?

The hitch, the ever present self
puzzling over deliveries of deja vu
Placing clarity over never

It’s as if we’ve nearly got it

Yea.

Maybe some do,
And maybe my coffee is burnt.

 

-M. Taggart

Odd Walking Thoughts

I believe one well written line changes the mood of the day. Much like when a moment so clearly takes place that you realize everything has just become forever different. And you’re either fine with it, or not, either way it is done.

Sent from my iPhone

odd walking thoughts – the thinking of it

A grizzled man sits at a pub. His beer is warm. He watches a man standing near him. He wants to know why a man would stand at a bar. You sit, he thinks, and you misery yourself. The man standing notices he is being observed. He says, ‘How’s your night going?’ The sitting man tries to speak but his throat was yet to be unclogged with the mucus built at the back of the tongue. Instead of a reply he nodded silently. ‘Your beer is almost gone. Want another?’ The sitting man pushed away anger at the thought of a free beer from a man who would stand at at bar. Finally, mucus gone below, he speaks this, ‘Why are you standing at a bar. Why not sit, relax?’ The standing man replied, ‘I was sitting. I thought about standing. Up I stood, so I would be done with the thinking of it. Just as I did when I asked how your night was. And then to offer another round. So when you take your first taste, I’ll be walking out the door, having left you behind.’

**
-M. Taggart