What was, is not now. -M. Taggart
Location: Northern Maine.
Photo: Matt’s Cell.
Tag: Creative
Poem
I enjoy reading books at pubs.
I enjoy the atmosphere, the noise,
the celebration of life via
conversations over drinks.
I’m comfortable hearing the
constant commotion while filing
through the lines of whatever
book that is in my hand.
I love the smell of the different
foods being prepared in the kitchen,
and the visual of the steam following
the order to the table where it’ll
be enjoyed. I can squint my eyes
and barely see the words I’m reading,
or I can leave them wide open and
take in the moments my peripheral will
provide. Either way is fine with me,
though sometimes it depends on the book.
As though they demand somehow an
existential variation concerning a costume
they wish me to wear, and though I shake it
off, at times it drapes and I do don it for
a small while to satisfy their needs.
-M. Taggart
poem
My teeth don’t always work.
I attach them into my head
and I’m inside out-
Leaves are nice too,
we walk on them and listen.
-M. Taggart
poem-
Wake up
I did
And that’s something I’ve never done
because I’ve never known this morning-
So that means we’ve both just done
something we’ve never done on the same
morning which can never be done again-
Now go be what you talk about.
-M. Taggart
copyright 2018
Buk – A small sample of his writing
wandering in the cage
‘on writers: I found out that most of them
swam together.
there were schools, establishments,
theories.
groups gathered and fought each
other.
there was literary politics.’
-Charles Bukowski, The Last Night Of The Earth Poems
This is a small withdrawal from the complete poem. This tiny bit speaks to me very clearly. I am self taught. And, now that I am finally submitting properly to publications, I am finding his words are incredibly accurate. And I am so damn thankful to be self taught. I belong to no club. No writing politics or policies take any portion of my writing mind-set. Maybe this will also help you.
Matt
Odd Walking Thoughts – The Bending Tree
The one with the eye knew to unwelcome any covered loathing and to be the simplest conduit. It was their duty to live. The bending tree wanted to snap and the eye asked, ‘Why do you wish to snap?’ ‘I wish to snap to be done with the bending,’ replied the bending tree. ‘Why then bend at all.’ Said the eye. -M. Taggart
copyright 2016 -M. Taggart
It Hides Itself with Seasons – New England
It’s crisp with crunching leaves then humid with summer nights. Its snow is deep and winters long with flowers growing wild in the spring. It hides itself with seasons. New England. -M. Taggart
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Odd Walking Thoughts – He had forgotten he was crazy.
For a long time he had forgotten that he was crazy. He remembered when- A friend told ‘her’ about another ‘him’ and being told about this helped him to remember that the two are one and the same. He wasn’t sure he should believe himself because he knows there can’t be two. It’s a bit like this- It’s dark and you feel a large stone. You sit on this stone. As you touch the stone you feel bits of dirt crumbling off. The dirt falls onto the ground and you’re no longer sitting on the stone. You’re now looking up. At another. The ground is your new home and above is a lie. It never happened. There was no stone and there wasn’t a ‘her’ and there isn’t any darkness nor any crumbling dirt. And there was one. -M. Taggart
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