jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

arabian desert


these voodoo dark blue skies come
out of nowhere and leave you paralyzed

birds falling out of clouds like clay pigeons
black and bloating and unexploding

wings swooping like kites with sheet-like tails
twisting and turning and fighting the wind

pirouetting and nosediving supersonically
exploding and resurrecting youthfulness





february two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

supersonic speeding tickets


from beginning to end
all we do is practice
no matter rhyme or reason
or particular purpose to carry on
whether on road leading to
bandstand on country hill
better yet at wembley stadium
or carnegie hall

there are no free rides
no assurances along the way
but there are tickets to collect
at nearly every turn
easily transferable to friends
and family and strangers
or whosoever believes
long before you ever do





february two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

early afternoon memoirs


I made pekoe for two
in my red porcelain teapot
but it was just me and my thoughts
retiring to the sunroom
bird songs in the background
streams of consciousness meandering
inside sublime daydreams
mixing fantasy with memories
and all that was meant to be





february two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

oh baby please don’t go


best friend boarding plane
guardian angel by her side
clenching one-way ticket to
isolation island

reminiscing in her bedroom
I strum her classical guitar
singing one sad song
after another
her voice whispering in my ear
melancholic yet joyous

flipping through pages of
paintings and photographs
I feel her hand in every
familiar image
stamped and delivered
deep inside regressive minds





february two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

bringing stars into focus


it’s no surprise we are losing time
which is especially disappointing
considering all the progress that’s
been made

                      you see there are
secret forces working all the time
hammering away and clearing
new paths with silver scythes

men without thought dig deeper
underground
tasked to find ore or oil or more
time before they die

others pretend they’re masterminds
rigging elections and breaking codes
opening pandora boxes with keys
yet to be made

                            once discovering
there are contrivances built into
everything that’s been invented
(and subsequently buried)
one becomes uninterested in time





february two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

meeting you there halfway


how dare I slow down now
now that I finally have momentum
gunning down the hill
like some madman schushing

sun shines on mountaintop
snow capped and untouched
calling upon the gods
to turn stone into gold

flying down I imagine
you’re methodically climbing
mathematically calculating
chances colliding halfway





february two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

fine tuning propaganda


the machinist was nowhere to be found
when he was most needed

for a moment the world seemed to end
but alas it was just a correction of sorts
and most everyone seemed to go about
their day as if nothing had ever happened

the chemist was called in to answer
a number of trick questions
but he didn’t have anything to say
was quickly dismissed when refusing
to comment on the current regime

in the meantime the machinist
was nowhere to be found
and at some point the prophets started
issuing their own interpretations

sometime in the near future
a number of small towns along
route number sixty-six
disappeared off the map

(next day) evening news
started in the wee early hours
proclaiming how the machinist
had resurfaced after retooling
a number of instruments
responsible for turning this world





february two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

on february fourteen


love is in the air
disguised as
manufactured clouds
billowing out of
corn sweetener smokestacks
rising above half-frozen river

quietly perched atop
flood water retaining wall
cupid draws back his bow
eyes purposely piercing
lonely hearts drifting
like pies in the sky





february two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

in search of that which makes you happy


this somewhat elusive euphoria
how it starts and sputters and stops
only to repeat the process
like a solar powered pocket watch
misplaced on second story window sill

yes I know it’s a state of mind
this endless moonlit madness
waking you from self-induced slumber
suggesting you stick around
at least until morning light

they say universe does not age
and thrives on creativity
whether practicing inner rhymes
in your very own world
or blasting off into outer unknowns





february two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

life with mercy


I found myself
behind these bars
when I should have been
screaming down a mountain

why does it seem
the whole world is watching
when in reality
it’s just me and my dreams

we’ve sung this song before
once upon a time
or was it just yesterday
when you said you still love me

I miss the autumn winds most
pushing me to the limit
reminding me what follows next
is certain to test my mettle





february two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

waiting game


waiting for that call
perfect storm arriving
though not as predicted

waiting for water to break
pacing unfamiliar hallways
hoping and praying for
feline to return
after one year hiatus

word spreads of vigil
held throughout the world
children chanting for peace
the fate of millions
hanging in the balance

if you could see the stars
you could see the candles
burning in the midnight wind

practicing undue restraint
you sit back in silence
waiting for that call





february two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

passing through yet again


I sat on inner city park bench
and wondered what had
become of poetry

it was sunday
and god knows where the
transients had gone
especially on such a warm
and peaceful winter day

I like to hear church bells
ringing from blocks away
imagining all the men in
black overcoats and top hats
children holding hands with
women in white gloves

it was an overcast day
and I felt the urge to embark
if not sometime soon
definitely by sundown
destination yet to be seen

sitting inside idling aircraft
I try to imagine what will
become of tomorrow





february two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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