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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Poetry”

in full search of the fallen


there is much left to say
but I find myself muted
somewhere in the woods

I didn’t ask to be here
rather I was called
a voice I thought I knew
eloquent & enticing
reminding me of my youth
or a prior life

having arrived at the region
I was meant to reach
I sit on a metal bench
and wait for the sky to change

the voice has left me
replaced by the stream
the spirit of the sky
descending upon the earth
in the form of parachuters

though not quite rested
I am back on my feet
rewiring the frequencies
in full search of the fallen





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

she loves me she loves me not


I’m lost inside a rose garden
the one I never promised you
my only preoccupation
now that I’ve become a wanderer

come fall maybe I’ll cut them back
or maybe I’ll turn into a snowbird
giving them the freedom
to fend for themselves

looking at my hands
wrinkled & sore & ever useful
I’m reminded of the reds & yellows
living & dying like clockwork
on occasion one or two held captive
inside my failing heart





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

rumors & facts circulate like they always do


nobody said it would be easy
as they ran for the hills
a host of tornadoes on their tails
the taste of sulfur on their tongues

the weather radios ran out of juice
maybe twenty years ago
though interruptions kept recurring

the children know best where to hide
their knowledge immeasurable
ever since the flattening
of the learning curve

what’s next is nobody’s business
weather balloons competing
with drones & killer kites
rogue rockets taking off from cornfields





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

tripping & skipping


you often wonder
standing on the edge
looking past horizontal signposts
how any of this could possibly change
anytime in the near future

but you know better
often resorting to escaping the present
ingrained into believing
leaving your body is an experience
far from impossible

as you skip from one place to the next
nobody seems to notice
whether you are coming or going
— especially those
who thought they knew you best





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

the uninvited


they entered my house unannounced
dapper in blue uniforms & purple berets
sporting steel-tipped boots & cotton-white gloves
—silver stars pinned to shirt pockets
pistols in holsters & papers in hand

they acted as if I wasn’t even here
the three of them moving in unison
methodically going from room to room
one taking photographs
another taking notes
the leader giving orders via hand signals
opening drawers & cabinets
an occasional cough & chortle

when they went upstairs
I stayed on the main floor
& when they never returned
I decided it was no longer safe to stay here





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

the anarchist’s daughter


I’ve lost my place in line
after grapefruit went out of season
walking back to the car
I hear people asking
sir are you alright

nobody’s around
but back in the back alley
boys & young men
cast lots for rocks
march off to their next ruling
& brutal execution

[how I know such things
is nobody’s business]

it’s almost always about who
not when or where
or even how
torture is torture
whether concealed by a shroud
or orchestrated in broad daylight





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

interstellar communique


invisible hands mend broken thought
sweeping what can’t be salvaged
into the recycling bin

roses now grow
in the ditches of abandoned roads
colorful vegetation
wild & plush
painting over what used to be

faraway atop dilapidated roofs
angels eat lemons
waiting on their orders
pointing at the darkening clouds

the names are transmitted via waves
one after the other
an ever-expanding virtual list
of those who may be saved
followed by all the others





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

our turn


where did the magic go

there must be mystics or chameleons
passing time underground

at times diligently at work
plucking ideas from upside down trees

leaves without color
toadstools without souls
garlic & turnips & parsnip

reinvention is impossible without
extended periods of unconsciousness
like alaskan brown bears do

awake
awake
it’s time for the good news
tell us the magic has returned
and is here to stay

tell us it is finally our turn





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

Mechanicsville


people used to live in Mechanicsville
but few would work there

how many people do you suppose
lived inside the city limits
shall I give you a hint
a clue
a factoid

what if I told you how many beds
were in Mechanicsville
would you believe me
would you even care

from Mechanicsville
there is a road that leads to the Interstate
mostly laid due south
with a zig & a zag in between
and one big-ass bend

what if I told you nobody lived there
that it was just an idea
mechanics bank & trust
mechanics public library
mechanics auto body


I bet you could get any kind of engine
fixed there
in Mechanicsville
get your air conditioner reconditioned
your lawn mower tuned up
maybe even your teeth cleaned

and what of the new water tower
how long will the old one keep standing
is it still in working order
or simply going to rust

is there still a mayor
an elementary school principal
volunteer firefighters
—are they still such a thing
now that both bridges
are impassable
and most
main street buildings
[smoldering]
ushering in the morning light





may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

Ideology


The yankee & rebel keep fighting
ignoring the call for the common good
dictating their own marching orders


Pigs in dresses sporting red lipstick
at the county fair things go haywire
the yankee & rebel keep fighting

Hit & runs & other baseball games
nobody’s safe on the streets —thugs
dictating their own marching orders

New fake news & misinformation
spread from the darker to lighter web
the yankee & rebel keep fighting

Acrobats & gymnasts feigning death
big bad bulldogs & fat feral cats
dictating their own marching orders

Back to the future & back again
playing the race or injustice card
the yankee & rebel keep fighting
dictating their own marching orders





may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

blissful indifference


last night I heard volcanoes are erupting
on three continents
but I didn’t bother to google which ones

and then this morning I saw some geyser
is spewing god knows what into outer space
from one of jupiter’s moons
but I didn’t bother to read which one

back in my little neck of the woods
not much seems to be happening
but I suppose if I dig hard enough
I’d uncover all kinds of dirt
I really rather not know about





may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

body double


it’s midnight in london
and I’m unsure where I stand
in this shrinking world

I’ve discovered
someone is alleging to be me
and according to elon musk
nothing much can be done about it

back in america
[where the fake me likely resides]
the extreme weather is derailing
the economy & democracy
—while here in my lower level flat
it plays havoc w/my nervous system
as I consume illegal substances
advertised to rewire my failing memory





may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

adrift inside the ether


A world of light
of dreams & strange intimacy
where music floats
and voices eventually follow
where pain & sorrow fade into the past
and joy is ever new





may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

rewriting the history books


in america
natural born leaders have been replaced
by natural born killers

at a future date
historians may connect the dots
—the sublime correlation between the two
mapping the evolution from plymouth
to richmond
to the latest school shooting

students learning
all on their own
how the eradication of racism
is a moot point
as long as man & boy
continue to pursue the art of war





may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

curfew


I know it’s late
but I don’t want to go home
—I call from a payphone
to say I’m on my way

the front door light is on
collecting inquisitive insects
too numerous to count

today I could use my voice
to turn off that damn light
but back then things were fairly simple
except for killing myself
just to get inside





may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

middle of the twenty-first


the hit got through
another run scored
the boo birds came out
in full force
cageless & marching
to the concessions

from the jumbotron
[and for the third time]
they heard harry caray
singing his heart out
people swaying & pointing
toasting to the dude
some saying they thought
he was dead

it started as a day game
that never quite ended
the full moon high behind the clouds
street lights flickering
backup generators humming
keeping all hopes alive





may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

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