Writing On WordPress

I’m not sure I’d know how to not write. Not any more. My personal Pandora’s box has been opened into the matrix of sharing for better or worse. I’ll continue to plant these words, hoping they might grow.

I don’t know why it took so long to realize how important WordPress is to me. Or why it took so long for me to take it more seriously.

Thank you for reading. I don’t consider any of you followers. Certainly not My followers. Rather, my peers.

Let’s see what this will be in ten years.

Matt

To new writers- If you don’t do it, It won’t do it. Your blog won’t grow itself. Think of the Great Hank Aaron and play on.

Poem-

The leaves out my window are still
so much so that they look like a photograph
with perfect lighting
If I open my window
I’ll push a draft of air toward the trees
and ruin what I’ve been given

-M. Taggart

Overcome Hardship, lead, and live well.

My family is riddled with suicide
I myself am not suicidal
Quite the opposite. I love life.
In fact for much of my life I’ve experienced
Jealousy from others over my ability
To be happy in terrible situations
And unfortunately I’ve been forced to live
through a few extra ordinarily bad situations
But that’s OK. I learned to enjoy watching leaves drop
And how to find solace in the darkness of my eyelids
Nothing is too large for me to handle
My confidence, I’m forced to shade, yet people still see
And it bothers them
And so be it
I was the one ready for the midnight phone call
When he said he’d taken the pills
With the alcohol and that he’d be dead soon
I was the one on the phone when the police
entered his home with the paramedics
Listening to him scream for them to leave
I was the one who calmed him
The one that walked his mind to the ambulance
to thank the police and EMTs for trying to
let him live
I called the hospital they were taking him to
I was on the phone with their personnel in the
Emergency room while he was being wheeled in
‘Yes, we’ll have a psychiatrist sent in as soon
as they empty his stomach. Thank you for this
information.’ I had to tell them things he would
not have. The root of his weakness.
I don’t know why these things happen
I know that I am blessed because these moments
are never too large for me.
He is now happily married and an amazing father
And one of my favorite people on this Earth
I told him two years before he tried committing suicide
that he was going to try to end his life
So when the phone rang and I saw the number
I was ready
Because I’ve already lost too many family members
this way
So no, I am not suicidal, but I write about death and suicide
because I know it well and I know its pace
and the path it takes
I am not afraid of death
I am concerned with the process which leads to death
I think to die well matters
And if you haven’t found your absolute truth of
how this all works
Well, I hope you do
Because I know beyond doubt
That we are not alone

-M. Taggart

Thanks for reading. This wasn’t easy to write.

The Good Life

I just bit my tongue
hard while sneezing
In the background I hear
“There goes Daddy!”
I was washing bottles
Now I have blood filling
my mouth with soap suds
dripping from my hands
I can feel another coming
I smile as it loads

-M. Taggart

A Child Hopes

A Child Hopes

Fiction
Written by -M. Taggart

 

A child too young to crawl had no parents. A man placed the child in a crib and walked away while listening to its suffering cries. The infant had no understanding of the fading footsteps, but fully felt the abandonment.

Near the crib, carved into the cold stone wall, was the saying, ‘These stones wash my mind.’ A smiling face was left as a signature.

A nine-year-old had created the message.

Etched into the wood floor beneath the infant’s crib was another, ‘My thoughts are new this morning having never been thought before.’  Another smiling face was left as a signature.

**

‘What are you doing?’ Nick’s grandfather asked.

‘Reading.’ Nick replied. He held onto a nail. He was helping his grandfather in the garage.

‘Oddly, I never read much. But, when I did, it changed me.’

Nick’s grandfather was a large man. He wore grey work pants and a white t-shirt with suspenders.

‘Grandpa, what does this means? “These stones wash my mind.” That’s what it says in the book.’

Nick’s grandfather stopped fidgeting with the bird feeder he was building. Looking at the rafters, then his boots, he shook his head, ‘You might want to find another book.’ He reached a window with his eyes, and noticed how the sunlight spilled around the clouds.

Nick didn’t want to find another book. This book was too important. And he didn’t miss his grandfather’s face when he’d asked. He saw. He saw fully. Nick looked at the nail in his hand. It was metal. It smelled like metal. It looked like metal. It tasted like metal. But these words didn’t taste, or look like anything, but words. Though, he felt them.

‘Why didn’t you read much? That doesn’t make sense. If it changed you, was it for the better, or worse.’ Nick asked.

‘They were fluff. So much fluff. And the eyes reading them never cared. They read because they read. But, a few, changed me because they were meant to be written. And when I read them they made me to see.’

‘To see what?’

‘That’s not really the question. ‘These stones wash my mind.’ That’s the question. Be careful to not lose focus. If you want an answer to a question, truly want it, never stop until that one question is fully answered. Then, move to the next.’

Nick felt shamed. His cheeks filled red with emotion. He stood to walk from the garage and let the nail drop to the cement floor. It wasn’t that he couldn’t focus.

‘If you had answered my question the first time I asked it, I wouldn’t have had to rework new questions to again come to the first. And if it’s too hard for you to talk about, why’d you write the book?’

Nick walked out of the garage. Sunlight lit his young shoulders.

 

***

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Smile Child – Odd Walking Thoughts

Keep a straight face child. They all judge the same way. Keep it flat. Let them ask. Sure. Sure isn’t an answer. Sure anyway. Straight, always straight. When the floor does the asking there isn’t much point in emotion- The sun came again today. When it reaches your slumbering self and effortlessly pulls sleep from your body you can smile all you’d like.

-M. Taggart
Copyright 2018

Brother

My brother called a month ago to ask if I’d like to be his best man. This will be the fourth time I will be the best man in a wedding. I’m not sure how this keeps happening.

My younger brother has always been my soft spot. He was my saving grace.

He asked if I would do an old-fashioned best man’s speech.

He said, “With how you are with your words I’d like to hear what you have to say. Just please include the memory when I threw the rock through your window at 3 AM because I locked my keys inside.” He was outside drunk. Alone. Happy.

While my brother was talking about the wedding I tried to stay in the moment. I’ll admit I did drift.

With everything that’s happened in the past few months, including nearly losing my wife due to an internal rupture, and internal bleeding, I drifted. I started to imagine myself at my brother’s wedding. Me going into the old systematic fold that I’ve always used when I’m around many people. No one knows. People will tell me it’s great to see me and I’ll think something along the lines of, ‘We gain too much knowledge and we die.’ I’ll shake their hand and observe how much time I think they might have left. Some people seem to have a harder time absorbing knowledge than others. They’ll ask me a direct question and I’ll answer them very quickly. And we’ll head to the bar.

-M. Taggart

Cheers

 

Odd Walking Thoughts – Beyond Thought

The boy climbed out of his window and onto the large tree and quickly made his way to the ground. He ran to the woods. He needed to sit on his rock overlooking the river. He pushed his small frame as hard and fast as it could carry him. The words were rimming in circles within his mind and now gathering pace toward the tip of his tongue. Not yet. Not yet! You will only speak them first once. Finally, his rock in view, an overwhelming feeling of joy perched in his chest; he reached the top of his rock and lay on his back to catch his breath. Sitting up, viewing the river, he spoke the words which were brimming in circles within his mind and pushing their way to the tip of his tongue- No one had given these words to him and he had never heard anything like them. He opened his mouth, ready to watch them fly, “Can memories live beyond thought?” The tiny hairs stood on his arms. A leaf fluttered slightly more north from the smallest push of air. The leaf landed nearly silently into the river. Having changed the world.

-M. Taggart
copyright 2018