jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Aliens”

strangers passing by


there were four of them
marching down the sidewalk
a band of brothers and sisters
as if on a mission from god

it was quitting time and I was
getting into my car as they
were swiftly approaching

to get a closer look
I used my rear view mirror
and then directly outside my window
as they passed by excitedly

they were talking to one another
laughing and smiling and seemingly
unconcerned about privacy

though I somehow understood
every single word they said
their demeanor and inclinations
told me they must be aliens

and before they made it to the corner
their aura pixelated and dissipated
like a mysterious fog quickly lifting





june two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

psychic connections notwithstanding


there are countless stars on the vaulted ceiling
visible only on cloudless nights

although unnoticeable to the naked eye
planets orbit each and every one of them

I often find myself lying down and pointing upwards
giving them names
and pondering
which ones are more likely to support life
as we know it

unlike this place I call home
none of these apples are at war with themselves
which is why I easily connect with them
as a most welcomed alien





may two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

some kind of alien operation


the intensity is high in these
surroundings
but I play it cool by taking drugs
designed to keep
my blood pressure in check

I’m not supposed to be here
I tell them
but they process me nonetheless
handing out one of those
restaurant beepers that flashes red
when my table is ready

the longer I’m here the more attention
I seem to get
and when I tell them a second time
there’s been a mistake
they chortle and nod and strap me in





april two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

an american alien in egypt


in the dark in alexandria
chasing an illusion
from one continent to the next

this city is far from dead
and inhaling its past is intoxicating
no matter the time of day

greeted by angels at midnight
I’m allowed to dock and disembark
a foreigner without a guest pass

I say tell them I’ll barely be seen
walking their sleepless streets
as if back in new york city





april two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

stranger in this land


what brought me here is difficult
to explain
almost as if I was abducted
by a team of aliens
and set loose in the city center

something or someone
wiped clean my memory
and the clothes on my body
I was vaguely certain
did not belong to me

as I walk the streets
nothing is familiar
landmarks or architecture
the language or signage
urban animals roaming about

I stuff my hands in my pockets
pull out colorful script
and silver and gold pieces
fairly certain the sum of which
will give me a place to stay
for the night

over time I will come to find
there is inspiration in the streets
in everywhere I go





february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

waiting for morning to break


I’m like an undocumented alien
waiting in the gray room
blurred around the edges
keeping warm by candlelight

there is very little to read
but content is everywhere
and though drowsy
I stay wide awake just in
case they call my name

rows away children sleep
snickering and whimpering
unintelligible words in the air
like flashes of joy and fear




june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

in the way she moves


I’ve been making a living harvesting diamonds
from faraway planets
bringing them back to earth by way of
space savvy drones

this lucrative technology I’ve curated is keeping
rocket scientists baffled
scratching their heads and ringing my phone
twenty-four seven

I’ll be damned if I’ll give them the slightest hint
of what they already know
something about the law of attraction
and how she moves me




may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved

extraterrestrial intelligence


how are we to reconcile recent events
unable to come to terms why we
scratch and crawl and scratch again
expecting to find something brand new
instead uncovering oft told untruths

with shovel in hand it’s easier to go deeper
much further than digging like a dog
but what can there possibly be down below
that we don’t already know

dinosaur bones or diamonds from another world
mass graves from this past century
and the one before
from every century going back until kingdom come

instead of digging we learn to drill with precision
hitting veins of fools gold or liquid gold
eventually discovering wormholes
leading to china or another world altogether
places unfamiliar in a familiar way
leaving us wondering why on earth
we ever felt threatened in the first place




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

archaeological dig


somewhere along the beaten path
rare earth elements are spotted
here and there
haphazardly discarded by
downright dirty rotten scoundrels

little aliens scurry in the shadows
having adopted stretches
along the way
stuffing recyclables into sacks
refurbishing trash into shiny trinkets

all skyscraper trees eventually fall
their treasure imperially at risk
that is to say
having crashed and imploded
only to be mined many lifetimes later





february two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

breaking the law of physics


they were bootlegging bread
(manna for their souls)
across the desert aboard
solar-powered getaway carpets

there were many contracts out
bounties on their heads
dead or alive mattered not
not as long as they had bread

some say they were aliens
newly arrived for umpteenth time
practicing rituals underground
living on contraband flatbread





january two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

how I wonder


alien boy sits on curb
waiting for night to fall
desirous of first star to appear
bringing back his smile

fast cars with one headlight
impersonate meteor showers
sweeping up passerbys
unable to pay the freight

it’s a million to one chance
but what else is there to do
besides singing the blues
or counting red cars

tomorrow’s hitchhiker
catapults away from superhighway
discovering alternatives to
hunger and desire and fear

there he learns falling out of grace
is not an option
nor dashing through the night sky
perhaps unseen



november two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the wisdom that is Bob


I heard they were selling tickets to Mars
down at the corner of Oak and Divisadero
but by the time I got wind of what was
going down it was too late
the little bastards were all sold out

soon thereafter I was relating my
disappointment to Bob over a few beers
and a few shots down at The Page

meanwhile on the big screen Giants
score ten plus runs in the fourth
off the Met’s lefty starter
the scattered-brained afternoon crowd
going just a little bit too ballistic

you know old boy
(Bob goes on to say)
there are no tickets to Mars
it’s just some punk rock concert

yes I say in between swigs
whatever you say Bob



september two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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