Flash Fiction – Where’d I put that book..?

I searched for the book I was reading with a feeling of annoyance toward myself for having misplaced it. Found it. Under a pile of useless kiddle. Now that I’ve found it, I no longer want to read it. I stare at the cover with a feeling of annoyance toward myself for having found it. It’s written by a famous author. It’s not good. It doesn’t translate. It’s not relevant. Only the timeless ones can do that. They write content that will give for hundreds of years. Think that’s not possible? One word. Bible.

-M. Taggart

Cheers.

p.s..

Odd Walking Thoughts – Don’t keep

We walk into the shadow of death to pull one wounded child from its depths, to find another daft man standing in the corner. Leaves are shuffling outside my window. A man with a golden heart is gone. Another stands in a room looking. Don’t block me. I am here and at least I have my fingers. The man in the room standing, looking daft, asks for silence because silences never questions. Never says a damn word. The girl with the golden brow would have cared for a word. And the boy with the covers pulled tight would have cared for the same.
**
copyright 2017
-M. Taggart

Come Now Sun – A Poem

it’s early morning
broken leaves are crying again
let us find them

in this violence ‘they’ play
begging crowds to act
until the sun finally does shine

hiding in the wooded darkness
pressing for the crumbling of all veins
hoping for the chaotic and exacting destruction
that’s been asked to be created under our feet

Come Now Sun
flood the broken leaves
and melt the ones
who’ve pushed them into being

-M. Taggart
copyright 2017

Thank you for reading. Cheers.

Others Who Struggle – Odd Walking Thoughts

I feel something in my head. I’m sorry. To my family, I’m sorry. It’s there and I cannot help but acknowledge. It’s a metallic twisting that’s working itself into pain. I chew on this pain best I can. I watch them move their mouth and I hear the words and the twisting continues. I try and identify with what I have nearest to me. If only to rest my mind. It does not work. I open my palms and ask them why. A voice tells me to calm and to understand. It’s my voice.