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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Poetry”

I shall never forget


faded memories reappear
a wallpaper kind of past
filled with delicate intricacies
and screaming images

she emerges to the forefront
in unexpected ways
first as a lasting impression
in an otherwise forgetful dream
— next as a hologram
projected from the ceiling
miming I will always love you
before dissolving into nothingness

these are the beginnings
of a day filled with fits & starts
a reminder that I shall never forget
even after my final breath





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

in the middle of negotiations


deal me in
it’s simply a matter
of time
before starting
to win again


nearly overnight
all the colorful ties
turned into a quilt

as far as my
recollection is concerned
none of them are mine
I’ve not received
a single dime

out of nowhere
suddenly
rapidly
donations arrive
it’s as if people
stopped caring so much
about themselves





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the ride of your life


the rhythm of the day varies
as does the week
month & year
there is no status quo
only forward motion
often directionless
— the trick is finding
the one ride
guaranteed
to blow your mind





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

brown paper bags


having too much knowledge
sometimes you need to
stuff some in a sack


in a sack stuffed inside
a cupboard
a pantry
a closet or a freezer

downtown the panhandlers
say mister mister
can you spare a sack

while the pickpockets
simply take what they may

in hemingway’s novella
the old man took a lifetime of sacks
out to sea
but that didn’t end up well
— or did it

is knowledge ever expanding
like the universe
or is it finite like an odorless gas
contained inside a sack





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

out into outer space


I don’t know much about global modernism
it seems to me like most of us are subsisting
day by day in many different worlds
anywhere on the planet you’ll find societies
living before & during & after biblical times
some hidden deep inside rain forests
others digging for safety below the surface
or propelling themselves out into outer space





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

as birds lay dreaming


it’s three in the morning
having awakened after maybe
three hours rest

walking slowly down the steps
the blue moon filters
into the house from various angles

I command the corner lamp
to power on to level one
wondering what my dear mother would do

I imagine she went for the cabinet
squatting like a catcher
calling her next pitch

the shelf above the refrigerator
is where the spirits live
I blame them for awakening me

settling in on the bay window chair
I reminisce of the thousands of dreams
of flying & talking & singing like a bird

having faced countless perils
perhaps I’d not survived an horrific dive
or was shot out of the clear blue sky

how many times can you possibly die
in a bed of make-believe roses
how many species of birds can you be





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Plan B


There is a lull
giving me time to think
what to do with
the furniture
the cars
& the children

If we were to flee
that would either
question our innocence
or solidify our guilt
—it’s what they call
a win win situation

It seems the bail
made just the other day
isn’t worth an order
of McDonald’s fries

Inside the rule of law
tick
tick
ticks away
whereas on the outside
it’s a jungle
poachers with spotlights
picking & choosing
leisurely to their liking

In case of emergency
wield the hammer
against the glass
pick up the answer
in the form of a map
unfolding itself
time after time [after time]





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the ambiguous participant


I’ve been uninspired of late
or so the study people tell me

I keep giving these telephone interviews
a human voice on the other end

I call them by their first names
the ones that they give me [anyway]
but after hanging up I wonder
if it was actually artificial intelligence
I was talking to

maybe I give them too much information
or maybe my answers are hogwash
figments of my own
intelligent imagination
ones that keeps digressing
[or so they tell me]
into potential self-destruction





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the safe house


it was a case
of mistaken identity
they claimed
having kicked in the door
and taking away
the fat cat

I remember crying
afterwards
for two or three days
afraid next time
it would be me
they were coming for





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

I have lived a thousand years


I know what I saw
when they killed them all

now I’m on the run
& all the good ole boys
are afraid I’ll testify

but they’ll never catch me
I’m like the gingerbread man
no luck needed on my side

in the good old days
there was no such thing
of having your day in court

what was once civilized
has now taken a serious turn





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

underestimation


the wary boy preferred
the shadows
learned early on how to stay
barely above the surface
carefully picking all the data
he would ever need

the lonely girl caught on
to his movements
emulating habits & methods
taking notes as she went
molding & crafting them
into her very own

at one point both noticed
a little yellow bird
sporting a brand new song
an emphasis of sorts
shining a light on their faces
for all the world to see





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

next year’s garden


why would I thin out the lilies
when I can dig out & divide
the bulging bleeding hearts

along the fenceline
wildflowers don’t need
much of anything
save a little attention

in the end all survive the fall
the next property owner
at odds
as to where to start





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

hit & run


he was in the backseat
telling me how to drive

I recognized him
from social media
& the local news

I told him to shut up
but he kept blabbering
about the rights of
pedestrians

how the hell
did you get in here anyway
I shouted over his voice

I thought you died
a week ago saturday





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

how she stirred me awake


I mean not to brag
but I’ve buried my past
like seeds of destruction
ashes gathered & scattered
over time germinating
mere inches below the surface

a little girl in the garden
[creating new worlds]
pours pretend water from a red pail
& I find myself mingling
w/the roots of the perennials
mere inches below her feet





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the idol maker


close your eyes & make a wish
it just may be your last

who’s next is playing
in the background
& suddenly you find yourself
in nineteen seventy-one

the current wars
aren’t much different than the old ones
especially when launched
by the eventual loser

but the music that ensues
the poetry yet to come
now that is beauty to the ears
turkey-noodle soup for the soul
[respectively]

you sit back & say things like
I remember when
or back in the day
everyone surrounding you
singing yeah yeah yeah
a chorus for the ages





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the fox & the cowboy


the fox admitted
he wanted to be a cowboy
complete with boots
denim jeans & chaps
embroidered shirt
& stetson hat

when asked
why he had a fascination
with cowboys
the fox alluded to
an intense desire
to live the romantic life





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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