jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Aliens”

cloak-and-dagger


incredulous stories
eye-witness accounts
alien spacecraft
& underwater intrigue
black holes leaking
hypothesized holograms

a mix of ordinary
story-tellers
& agents of the state
detailing extraordinary events
like a fiction writer
fine-tuning their craft

the public cannot believe
believers calling it witchcraft
unable to surmise
how the center of the universe
can simply reside
inside their very minds





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

alien ant farm


they’ve been at it
since the beginning of time
ancient aliens
looking forward & never back
advanced tunnelers
& experts in their field
bridging galaxies & multiverses
by way of black holes
the lights on their antennae
leading the way





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

spontaneously combusting


worlds are colliding
great balls of fire
streaking through space

here on earth
there is fire on the mountains
and fire on the seas
—on the mainland
bales of hay are
spontaneously combusting
right alongside
living & breathing alien beings

soon the only ice on the planet
will be man made
attempting to cool down a collective
suddenly looking back
to a future with promises
of grandeur





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

harvesting human DNA


they’re talking about us
refractive plants
exhibiting arms
& shoulders
working on
additional features

if you cut them down
will they bleed

if you dig & divide
will they multiple tenfold

there is concern
in the fields
where the alien plants
[in short order]
mimic what they’ve learned
on earth thus far

soon they will be
able to think

soon they will be able
to speak

is it merely a coincidence
that the harvest moon
is scheduled to arrive
any night now





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

North of Memphis


The Energy of the pyramids
beckons the next pilgrimage
whether a week from tomorrow
or four thousand years ago

Some say the Architects
were otherworldly over-achievers
trading road maps for free rides
and fishing the River Nile





july 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

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

celestial intelligence


you can only hope to outlive it
the system of the clouds
designed to wear you down
with or without shadows

a woman with wings
swoops near the surface & accelerates
back into the sky
—most likely she is not alone

how far they’ve traveled
is a matter of speculation
it’s as if they’ve been here before
the way they know
the terrain
the way they call your name

it’s never too late to change
they seem to be saying
coaxing you out of the cave
insinuating it’s safe again
to see the light of day






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

like tumbleweed


you follow me
blindly through the maze
electronic headlamp
casting brilliant lumens
— a projected triangular light
exposing uncertainty

high above the canopy
alien voices sing
in their native tongues
creating a singular hum
like the cicada
or the mantra
of the seven tribes

there is no end or escape
from the maze
— I reach back & you
firmly grip my hand
and with all my might
I pull & propel you forward
all in one motion
all for the sake of survival





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

out of the clear blue sky


the spacewoman arrived
unannounced
right in broad daylight
lowering her hovercraft
onto the open field
where she proceeded
to kill the fatted calf
[soon thereafter]
feeding all of the inhabitants
until they had their fill
from as far away
as the eye could see





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

to the rescue


the lost
& the forgotten
blinded by the wind
never to return again
repeating the pilgrimage
in the back of my mind

the night
turns into silence
the scattering clouds
revealing new satellites
blinking like a rising star
signaling the next move





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

the worlds that we live [in]


now that we are nearing the end
can we say it could be another way


at what moment can you point to
saying right there
that specific place in time
progressing toward the committed path
only to back off
at the eleventh hour

country boy in the big city
big city girl lost in green acres
hopping from one continent to the next
eyes set on orbiting like a satellite

there’s no debate
it’s all left to conjecture
but it’s the world we live in
and the worlds
that we don’t





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

bottles of oxygen in the wine cellar


they come to the door
and ring the bell
they are the uninvited ones

I sit in the corner chair
off-white insulated curtains drawn
the bulb of the table lamp
barely buzzing

the brightless ones move on
but I suspect
they’ll return again
more capable of interaction
the next time around

turning off the light
I nod off in near silence
a dimly lit moon rising
whispering something sweet
into my ear
promising to awaken me
as always





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

the subordinates


tonight we pause & give thought
to the morning light
having just traversed various points
of the universe
in a matter of mere minutes

at times there is strangeness
in ubiquity
skipping from one reality
to the next
only to find ourselves questioning
familiarity

there is a door in our peripheral
wooden or metal or glass
it matters not
and for the time being
we sit in silence
waiting for our marching orders





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

fire in the attic


we’re back on the ground
having jumped out of
the little white aerocraft
at the break of dawn

at the same time
the sky was still falling
flaming rocks crashing
setting our very target on fire

we were unprepared
to reverse rappel
but that’s exactly what we did
outmaneuvering the fireballs
expertly escaping from hell





december two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

fragmentation


it’s what we can’t see that scares us the most
three purple aliens hovering at the door
the little one rings the bell

not everyone likes Peyton Manning
would more than likely hit the mute button
or not hand out candy on a cold & rainy night

the baseball game is postponed
for obvious reasons
a higher power undoubtedly in on the action

[it being] the car crash that killed the driver
in the early morning hours
not to mention a few dead fawns
and a number of squirrels

chili is warming on the stovetop
there’s something mysterious in the wi-fi
—the doorbell rings again





october two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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