jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Poetry”

inspiring to be free


it’s three o’clock and I’ve no place to go
whether it be day or night
or minutes before or seconds after

physically I am not paralyzed
though my mind is working on making it so
playing on the pretense
I have the power to make time stand still

birdsongs stream through an open window
a background score composed and
recorded by a higher power

like a man in a trance I rise to the occasion
and find myself reaching out into the darkness
collecting whole notes and half notes
quarter notes and many other partial notes
stashing them into a leather satchel
so that I may later release them
after I am well on my way



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

these towns all look the same


maybe you should go there
and stop complaining about
taxes and megaphoning
death to your leader

I’ve seen more out-of-town
and out-of-state license plates
than I care to report

we are just this one small dot
connected to no other single point
on this godforsaken landscape

my lord tells me something bad
is about to happen again tonight

there is no reason not to believe her



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

stopping the impending doom


jet fighters crisscross the skies
like high flying bishops
licensed to fly

at control central pawns
surround the queen
fanning her with anything
they can get their hands on

at all four corners
white men wage war against
all other colors
wielding maces and knives
flashing suicide switches against
her majesty’s wishes

all the while horsemen
silently breathe into the fog
anxious for that chance
to live and die another day



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

brand new bluebird song


there was this poem I used to keep
in my back pocket
kind of like bukowski’s bluebird
only not as hopeful and
not as sad
but plenty sorrowful in its own right

one day somebody asked to borrow it
and I gave it away without even thinking
I gave it away
like it was a knee jerk reaction
like when shutting the door behind you
instantaneously realizing
you just locked yourself out

the poem lives on in somebody
else’s life now
leaving me to explore the city streets
sandals on feet and opera glasses in hand
capturing glimpses of brand new blues



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

rumors of an evacuation


for some reason only the crickets
came out that night
and before the break of dawn
all of the birds will have left the city

at the inception it was a nonevent
but in retrospect
it shouldn’t have taken so long
before the people started leaving



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

stranger in town


they tell me I should turn myself in
but I respectfully decline

the judge in my case isn’t alive anymore
and his replacement isn’t doing
that much better

so I jump-start my engine and
continue on my merry way
finding myself feeling somewhat
comfortable in this one horse town

good luck trying to find me
I say while turning away after
tipping the barmaid

she flashes me a smile
(or so I would like to think)
and suddenly my imagination
gets the best of me

there’s another town about six
hours away from here
where I’ve come to understand
they welcome total strangers



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

rewriting the nuclear era


summer has never been so close
knocking hard
loud and clear like a thunderclap

if you didn’t hear that
you may as well be deaf
I murmured
but there was nobody around
to absorb my spoken words
except for nightbirds and spiders
and hackers inside my laptop

there are many weeds needing
pulling and much soil needing turning
I keep telling myself
but in the middle of the night
none of that is occurring
at least not in real time

come monday morning nobody
may remember exactly what transpired
whether it be a history rewritten
or saplings thriving free of gasoline



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

atomic rain clouds


if the morning sun
rising above the horizon
whether seen or unseen
is not enough to inspire you
then by all means sleep in

otherwise rise to the occasion
and take to the skies
awarding your condition
by reaching a peace within
a peace which cannot be attained
without addressing the unspeakable



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

I was walking the dog under the catwalk


it was then I decided something
needed to change
after all I had whiskey and something
sour in that place I once took for granted

how dare I succumb to the status quo
after all I’ve been through

how could someone like me put up with
the mundane and the ordinary
when everyone else damn well knows
there are skies to touch
and happily-ever-afters to uncover

every time I walk your dog
I repeat out loud those poetic verses
found only inside
my suddenly missing manuscript



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

smoke if you got ‘em


I was pretty sure I got things going
but when you told me otherwise
I kinda felt like shutting down

kinda
she says
really
how old are you

well I didn’t want to get into that
so I just went on about my business
that had nothing to do with
business at all

suddenly the front door opens
and here walks in an
uber driver carrying six tall boys
and pack of marlboro reds

there’s no smoking in the house
she says unless I say so

the uber driver looks at me
as if she’s not going anywhere



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

just before the calm


there is symmetry in your words
aloft and capacious
passing through like clouds

I used to love the way you talked
but that was long ago
and though I’ve tried I can’t consciously
recall the rhythm or the flow

those wind chimes you hung
still haunt me so
how they suddenly appear out of thin air
colorless and perfectly soundless



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

georgia


nothing is real
not even the exception to the rule
to which you have seemed
to execute to perfection

I’ve chased down
many a dream with no end
only to pick things back up
exactly where you left them

you leap from tree to
tree with relative ease
repeating in my mind like a
hand-made picture show

I toss it aside
carefully behind a bush
thinking there’s a good chance
I want to retrieve it

I always tell myself
you should have told me
to stop swinging for the fences
a long long time ago



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: