you moved your knight
outside your comfort zone
tempting my lady
to meet you halfway
your little entourage
failed to retool
as your ambitious attempts
proved to be futile
withdrawn into darkness
I tightened the noose
offering your freedom
with a false ransom
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
put a band-aid on it
she said
and walk it off
it’ll be all right
those words stayed
with me
for countless years
whenever I happen upon
someone injured
whether they be a child
or a woman
or an old man
I see her transitioning
from a healer who couldn’t save herself
to a guardian angel on steroids
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
imagine marine-like monsters
inhabiting the darkest of waters
their bodies shaped simply
their fins rudimentary yet powerful
propelling themselves instantly
jetting at reckless speeds
and abruptly halting to a standstill
they are neither here nor there
and represent a constant terror
to those who slip into their world
their world is an antithesis
to the dreams we fabricate
and even in the wildest of our
fascination we realize their depths
are unreachable
their darkness too deep to see
even a flicker of light
leaving us unable to conjure hope
or understand the underworld
unless we sell our soul
and give in to the other side
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
you hide your beauty behind
your deepest thoughts
deceived into believing
there is nothing left to share
generations of ingenuity
push your instincts
and test your resolve
to fashion the unthinkable
end result is earth shattering
and unbreakable
as you reveal one final time
your undying creativity
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
a child slips away
for just a moment
crawling between a railing
so many stories high
falling in slow motion
your hands reaching out
unable to grasp
the law of diminishing reality
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I hunker down in a hawkish grotto
where nobody can find my prize
where the light of day
seems a light year away
and hound dogs
are just a figment of my imagination
there is plenty of food for thought
and sweet nectar can be tapped
from these ancient walls
measuring ten stories tall
adorned with objects
painted on throughout the centuries
exiled into this self-imposed solitude
I am at peace with my new mission
guarding the evils
locked inside this silo
hoping and praying
the world lives beyond its darkest days
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
on the most sorrowful day floral arrangements
accompany the winding road
as the birds of the field sing their joyful songs
nearby wildflowers weep and sway
newly clipped roses wrapped in paper produce
smiles once believed long gone
wherever a child is knee-deep in raw color
never let time pass away
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the circle invitation
echoes from miles around
from a solitary flyer
high above the flooded
creek near oxfordshire
days of endless rain create
casualties on the ground
ripe for the taking
by just about anything
remotely intelligent
the size of the circle
grows wing by black wing
gaining strength and sailing
like a school of fish
in the overcast sky
once reconnaissance
confirms an opening
the dark circle transforms
into a ruthless carnivore
spiraling toward the earth
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
they brought him into school
to address the warrior nation
and I sat in the little theater
so happy to miss math
this cat spent most of his adult
life in and out of prison
and he spoke softly and slowly
as if he once walked dead
his tales of thievery involving
blunt knives and drugs
and smoking guns
proved to be entertaining
until he bent down
on one knee
and proceeded to reenact
that night
he held his girlfriend’s lifeless body
in his tattered arms
I hid my eyes beneath my hand
and looked around the room
trying to figure out which one of us
would be tomorrow’s speaker
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s brown and cheap and comes
from mexico via chicago usually
around fifty percent pure
some like to smoke it but I prefer
to shoot it between my fingers
where you can’t detect the marks
the last high was beyond euphoric
as my body warmed like a toaster
my mind sailing away on a starship
as I zoomed out of this world past
the northern lights there was no chance
in hell anybody could ever catch me
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
once the children moved out
demons moved in disguised
as paper tigers roaming
from room to room
their emerald eyes shined
from the darkest corners
of the night reminding me
of a love I once had
I fed them sad stories
in exchange for my life
but their promises of light
I could not fathom
I asked them kindly to leave
my world but they curled
where the winter sun
shined through glass
in the spring I found strength
to unfold and reshape
keeping the demons at bay
as paper angels hanging
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
from a poem written in 1842
by my great great grandmother
Elizabeth (Mason) Waters
at 17 years of age
Washington, Iowa
What is Love? A heavenly feeling,
Centered in the human breast,
Softly o’er the senses stealing,
Gives the aching bosom rest.
What is Love? It is a treasure,
Seldom prized as it should be
‘Tis a pain, ‘tis a pleasure,
From all selfish feelings free.
Learn more about Elizabeth Mason Waters
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
blank card unfolds
with pencil in hand
as I sit in silence
waiting for the words
instead I draw
a little lost boy
in pursuit of his soul
in the cherished woods
a network of leaves forbids
the sun from shining
upon the moss-covered floor
as the sounds of the silent march
carry on
the young man calls
into the branches
certain someone above
understands his prayer
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it doesn’t take much
to flip on the switch
and drop down deep
into a chasm
of a distant memory
self-prescribed doses
of self-hypnosis
transports the mind
toward understanding
ancestral realities
old candles aflame
from wishful thinking
exposes wormholes
of new dimensions
leading to affinity
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
they shot the protester
because he did protest
yet at his publicized memorial
they celebrated his life
as a court jester
the queen became enraged
at the death of the jester
and she dispatched the royal
police to hunt down
the transparent killers
the transparent killers dissolved
into the adjoining kingdom
blending with the locals
by begging for change
on street corners
recharged with fresh dollars
more protesters perish
by organized zealots
rudimentarily disguised
as the new court jester
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there’s a revolution brewing
and it’s going to be loud
and dangerous and downright
unintellectual for so many
old women stand in long lines
buying magazines for their men
while inside dogs stay huddled
behind yet intact furniture
unrecruited men and boys
hide behind alleyways
reading the latest reports
from handheld devices
a voice from the loudspeaker
claiming to be the answer
promises free tickets to paradise
and chocolate for everyone
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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