Poem – Balls

Gram! Don’t look at my balls!
I was drunk.
Just a few minutes before,
my drunk self took me to my
old bedroom to put on my gift.
Which was a cold water wetsuit for kayaking.
Fuckers are stretchy and real tight.
Once I had that bastard on, including the headgear,
I pranced toward the bar, where everyone was,
with their drinks and their cheer.
Gram! Don’t look at my balls!
It was snowing outside.
I remember laying in the snow, feeling nothing,
It was fucking good. To lay and feel nothing.
Eventually I came back inside.
My family accepted my balls as myself.
And Big Al wanted to have another shot.
And we did.

-M. Taggart

 

poem-

Yesterday evening I taped trees
The cement footings are poured and the build is very much under way
Our contractor left tape for us to use for wrapping around trees
to indicate to the excavation crew which to remove
I used the entire roll
In all 39 trees will be gone
And as soon as I have more tape
More trees will be gone
Some might become angry reading this
I’m fine with that
The entire region was once completely cleared
Every Single Tree
Now the forest is thick and clustered
It needs to be thinned
So, I’ll drag my beer along
Tape a few more treees
And continue being me-
While on the land I listened
to the birds play and the insects buzz
The wind picked up slightly
I leaned against my truck
opened a beer
and watched the clouds move

Build

Yes. This is our build.

Poem

In all the echoes silence came through
while I read this book while I read this now
Never kill yourself before last week
and never kill yourself at all

-M. Taggart

Never Give Up

I believe there is great strength in the ones who fight to not abandon. I think we all carry levels of pain. Some scars we can all easily see and help to care for and caress back to a version of functional health. Others are buried so deeply they’ll never be seen or fully understood. I find weakness in the ones that abandon. A selfishness that destroys itself in final completeness.

Have a Day

Take life for granted and it’ll take you back
It’ll be too late and you’ll realize nothing
So go have that walk – find those roses
Hell- dig them up and replant them under
Your nose so you’ll always remember this day

-M. Taggart
Sent from my iPhone

The Ants Go Marching, one, by one.

He always said he wanted to try everything once
and as far as I could see he was nearly there
Only thing is this time it got the better of him
He’s just out of jail and homeless again
lied about the sober house, lied about gaining weight.
Unfortunately using again too. That pisses me off
But it doesn’t matter. I can be as mad as I want
along with the rest of the people who care about him
He’ll die this way. And When he’s gone I’ll still love him.
How long will the state level programs continue to push
them away, waiting lists are long, don’t you know.
I’m sure he knew, when he was ushered out the door already
feeling failure exploding trough his veins. How many more
will stop breathing while high in a heroin dealers ‘home’
‘died of complications’ no charges
No fucking charges. I won’t get into that memory.
My home town might be a piss-ant to the powers that be
But it’s my home town and I love it. Loved it so much
I left its destruction behind. Had too. Not everyone can do that.
Some follow the leader and think trying everything once is a good idea
because they never thought it through. And one by one they go, they go.

-M. Taggart

with a sadness near me i write

Basement Writing

I think great writing is written in basements
while drinking beer alone
Or while rocking a baby and using your one thumb available
I think great writing does last the test of time
And to find what’s not been found
Is fear

-M. Taggart

Sent from my iPhone