small brilliant smiles

‘A bumblebee.
I’m seeing it with my eyes’
That’s what my not yet
three-year-old just told me.
No need to overthink
what ought to be written
when life delivers every day
All I need to do is listen-

-M. Taggart

Sent from my iPhone

Odd Walking Thoughts

Listening to the rain. I’m home. The sands of time can go fuck themselves. Each of them. Home wasn’t always a thing I knew. Home was a faint whisper about Honesty and relief. Home was a deepening hole begging you to never tell. Never tell. As hushed mushroom grew in the shower. A blistering mouth spewed throbbing beginnings. – Listening to the rain it’s hard not to love. Now that I am home. And I am home.

-M. Taggart

Odd Walking Thoughts

Walk in the woods. Hug an anything. Don’t read the news. Have a beer. Whiskey, fish, work hard, tell someone they look good with their beard, tell another they look good without. Isn’t it easy when we let it be. Sit in your favorite spot and tell your mind no, then yes, because it’s finally time to read. Tell the ones telling, no. You know the no I write of. You created it and it’s waiting to be used. It’s not all metal sheep. It’s only partially all with which we’ve created- a portion of the sheep. But never, listen, to, the, sheep. Tell a thing it isn’t.

**

-M. Taggart

Odd Walking Thoughts –

Anger is freedom. Tell this to a peaceful mind who’s never known, or literally felt the hand of abuse, and you’ll find a child tossed like an outcast. Alone, habitually, alone. Anger will rise- showing a path. A path the child absorbs and carves larger because no one else would. The mouths now turn toward the audience, wide open, spilling secrets of lies. And they preach, always, this emotion is wrong. You are wrong. Anger is wrong. You are unwanted. The mouths preach this untruth to the child. The lies grow from one perfectly peaceful mind to another. And the child sits alone. Carving their path. Having learned to read the most important story of all.

-M. Taggart

Thanks for reading.

Here’s another ‘Odd Walking Thoughts’
https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/2016/08/04/odd-walking-thoughts-again-the-frog/

A Quote on Writing – Ernest Hemingway

‘It was in that room too that I learned not to think about anything that I was writing from the time I stopped writing until I started again the next day. That way my subconscious would be working on it and at the same time I would be listening to other people and noticing everything.’

-Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast: The Restored Edition.

Ernest Hemingway while in Idaho. Hemingway was born in Oak Park, Illinois, in 1899.
Ernest Hemingway while in Idaho. Hemingway was born in Oak Park, Illinois, in 1899.