poem-

I’m sad. And I’m happy too.
People are celebrating Thanksgiving.
And they should.
People are also upset that we do.
We live our truth.
I live mine and sometimes it’s not easy.
Thanksgiving is a joy; if we let it be.
We’re living in a pandemic.
There aren’t enough reasons to
gather and celebrate one another.
Christmas.
Birthdays,
which run dry,
a new baby.
Indigenous Peoples Day;
October, 11.
I believe this is another day
to celebrate our different
beliefs and cultures-
even with the history of
bloodshed.
I’d like to think we can
embrace culture rather
than revolt, continuously,
and shame.
I’d rather gather and grow.
Right now people I love
have Covid.
I’m trying to connect
people I love, to love.
That’s my truth.
Along with celebrating
Thanksgiving. And I’ll
be celebrating Christmas
in a few weeks and
cherishing the frosty
weather and warm smiles
when I tell people,
“Merry Christmas.”
If you haven’t enough,
tell me. I’ll do what I can.
Thanksgiving, Christmas,
your birthday, or any day.
I’m sad. And I’m happy too.

-M. Taggart

#pros originally posted on my Facebook page 11/26/2020.

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

 

Merry Christmas

Smash a beer tonight. Or take a long pull of wine. Have a cigar. Hug your sister. Your mother. Your son. Your dog. Hug the toilet. It’s O.K. to be you. Tell your wife you love her. If she isn’t listening, tell her again. Tell the man with the beard that he has a nice beard. Ask how long it took to grow. It’s Christmas. Tell your footprints you haven’t forgotten, but that you need to move on. Nothing ever stops being tomorrow.

Merry Christmas.

 

Matt.