Odd Walking Thoughts

‘You can force calm in the eyes of hatred, if you’ve been there before.’ He stomped through the mud, listening to the moist sounds, his boots covered in layers of love. “And what’s the about?” asked the tree with the misshaped mouth. ‘Nothing.’ “And why were you there?” ‘I don’t know, but I’m ready for when I am again,’ and the stomping continued and the mud said nothing.

-M. Taggart

-M. Taggart’s Odd Walking Thoughts – I’m somewhere in between.

Held back massively in 2020. Be prepared. I plan to post as often as I feel on this blog in 2021. However, and whenever I like. I posted 120 less times in 2020 than in 2019. This blog is the reason I’ve been published. This blog was, and is, my outlet. This blog helps carry my soul on stairs most wouldn’t care to walk on. Had a baseball bat swung at my head through my car window, glass everywhere, spit it out onto the pavement; watched the largest moon I’ve ever seen near a wide and deep river, where years before, Hell was shown to me, in front of accidental viewers: how can anyone steep in such lowness and enjoy their lust. Maybe a walk down memory lane will help clear the view. Maybe I’ll drive to the very spot, drag a few with me, and see what’s to see. The moon walks on land when we let it. Saw a dark sky asking for a view the other night.

-M. Taggart

Odd Walking Thoughts

A simple thing happened. So we left the rest to figure it out. A document signed by the wind. Possibly and irresistible sense of fingers on a keyboard begging for one, more, minute, done and gone. A bubble formed in the bath of a child, while mouth held under water, created by Mount Olympus’s keeper, crawled, escaping, toward freedom and fire on Earth. Watch as the mountains shed droplets of bark toward all who see and fetch a pale of water to rinse, it’s about here, and now, and then again, so very simply so.

-M. Taggart

Odd Walking Thoughts

Our own thoughts came around again. Funny how that happens. A floor holding an image of a mirror came back. Someone wanted something. Watch as the floor says nothing, having seen twice what was once, and then watch as the voice asks for more.

-M. Taggart

Odd Walking Thoughts

Lay us near the side of our brook. We’ll listen and observe a thing burn inside, like we did. Turn again in the mud, smell the ferns, wash the ‘self’, and watch as soul sinks in. Man in a white coat wants to ask how, doesn’t matter much. He’ll be here, or not, again. Seems to us a brook is a fine place to be. It’s always about something. So we see, and we do what there is to do about the seeing until, finality.

-M. Taggart

 

Odd Walking Thoughts

I worked on a letter today. Worked on its emotion. Like a child wearing pjs during Christmas roaring at themselves in the mirror. Found a funny thing in a thought, about a truck, about a tire, about a mud hole, and about a piece of nothing. Found you there wondering about everything else in a voice unheard unless spoken.

-M. Taggart

 

 

Odd Walking Thoughts

The boy scrubbed a rock near the brook. He listened as the squirrels sprung from trees onto brittle leaves which lay lifeless until a quick breeze, or a energetic squirrel, shuffles them. He noticed how the racket made from the busy squirrels might sound like a large animal and how it was hard to know the difference unless you spent much time in the woods, or if you saw with your eyes what you were hearing. The rock looked smooth and glossy while it was wet, but as soon as it dried it looked rough. Again he dipped his shirt sleeve into the brook and began scrubbing. -How much more clean do you need it to be? Asked the mind of a thought.

-M. Taggart

Odd Walking Thoughts – To Be

No one has the right to tell another how to feel.
No one has the right to tell you how to be.
Say this.
Don’t be that.

Walk into a corn field and tell the stalk how tall to grow. Watch as the crows mock the words. We weren’t put here to be slaves to any mind other than our own. And anyone who’s approaching you as otherwise is a falsehood. Tell them that. And watch their limitations explode as you walk through their fragmented mental dust.

-M. Taggart

 

Odd Walking Thoughts

We saw it during a snow storm. The face smiled at us and whistled a friendly thing. We hadn’t known many things friendly. We were alone again. Standing in the storm with the rest of the normal we knew. Only, there was something in that face which told of another way. So, we searched on, carrying Hope as our witness until fruition of proof shapes itself no longer around metallic rage.

-M. Taggart