jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Dogma”

only you can set me free


you follow me for reasons
I dare not explain
lord knows
my rise to fame
my transition to power
isn’t something I sought
rather given to me
from your invisible god

I can say anything I want
and you will be in awe
applauding my words
as if they’re your own
passing them along
to the masses
so that they may come
to appreciate the power
of personality





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

at the end of the drought


the act of attrition
not quite the same thing
a personal sort of process
when left talking
to yourself

it’s been as many years
as there are
days in the week
since my last obituary
ghostwritten of course
and predated
elsewhere in the clouds

I like to hang out there
when I’m at my lowest
knowing it’s a mere matter of time
before I fall down like rain
hours upon end





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

building an ark from scratch


it’s late evening
& I’ve not yet turned
a page

a sheet of paper
blank or lined

a young male servant
or messenger
delivering bad news
by way of wise men

               *

the dam is doomed to fail
or so the story goes
a flood of words deluging
on a sheet of ice
a great sea frozen
over time
is sure to thaw

sun falls further into the sea
the sea becoming
warmer
over generational time

               *

for no apparent reason
someone who has never set sail
begins building an ark from scratch





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

alone behind the sun


where do you start the story
a constant change
the river rises
& she falls
there is no beginning
but the ending is all but certain
a colossal possibility
like wings crafted by dædalus

you sit alone bewildered
wondering what’s
behind the eyes
of the sun
a story rich in ancestry
reworked & rewritten
ever unfolding & far reaching
like a flashmob of angels





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

a time of great change


there’s not been much talk
of late about april or rain
or easter sunday

on the news they say
the drought is ongoing
children in the heartland
growing thirstier by the hour
children in the theater of war
running for their lives

nobody goes to church anymore
of course that is a lie
not as big as some others
but perfectly relevant as it relates
to the presently prevailing antichrist





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

bittersweet


addicted to the unknown
& because we don’t know any better
we shame ourselves
by exposing our bodies & souls
up & down the avenue

on the shoreline
we casually collect seashells
& look at ourselves in the mirror
unlocking the mysteries
to the goddess of love

by eventide we turn away
throwing away the unconquerable
but keeping what matters most
the off-white angel wings
& footprints in the sand





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

By art itself


I’m not too concerned
if I don’t hear from you again
you see I have you locked
in this utopia
complete with a flower garden
apple tree & snake
white sands nearby & heavenly
clouds up above

You’re not the only one
to have it made there alive
the rest of us recirculating the works
filling stadiums with zealots
and unlocking
more & more mysteries
some by way of science
but more often than not by art





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

a prophet is born


where did you come from little girl
and how long did you dwell in the darkness
before making a new appearance

your thoughts are not yet your own
they’re transitioning from a predecessor
you do not consciously know

how quickly you’ll learn to retool
building bridges & staircases to heaven
all in less than a lifetime

real change is of the essence
though you inhale & exhale effortlessly
knowing this time will be different





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

and on the seventh day


I could have had religion
but I wasn’t born that way



imagining unable to give life
no longer a god
the ending materializing

but that’s not how the story goes
perhaps it’s all the simplicities
that makes it so complicated

children are raising their hands
to be taken into space
away from a place
that maybe makes sense
one out of every seven days





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

repent & be saved


people are amassing at the river
from all quadrants of the city

blood has been shed
for far too long
& local organizers who go by the motto
‘enough is enough’
have been picking up speed of late

just when the tipping point appeared
to have been reached
ordained & lay ministers
could be found twenty-four seven
wading in the shallow waters
baptizing those who wish to repent





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

Repossessing the Kingdom of Edom


We invited the prophet for supper
because we were not afraid


The Father told us about Obadiah
about his warnings of destruction
as a consequence of action

Having become students of the living
and of the dead (and especially of those
capable or rising again) naturally we
were anxious in making a connection

Although we possessed many questions
the most obvious rallied around
his postmodern interpretation
to the Day of the Lord





november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

finding water on the moon


the world is on edge
or has it always been
& I’m just starting to notice

what year have you got
I got a quarter past apocalypse

somehow I managed
to maintain all of my limbs
drifting along with the walking dead
talking to angels who once had wings

word has it major prophets
are being born this year
destined to redefine mother earth
[& her satellite]
twenty-some years from now





september two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Judith


The church is empty
no thanks to the pandemic
they’ll never come back
the Father said
they’ll never come back


What kind of god is this
that takes away your pain
by way of death
what kind of lie
are we living when you die
with no one by your side

It’s not like your sins
are any worse than those
who drove in the nails
it’s not like you deserve
to be hated in the end

Where do we go from here
after all has been forgiven
after the weight of the world
has been lifted from the
burdens that we bear





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

mass murder by the boathouse


angels behind the boathouse
trade dark secrets in the
middle of the day

they’ve dark hair & skin
auburn wings tucked in
called to this particular place
for reasons yet to be known

they wonder who is
calling the shots anymore
softly debating
how bad things need to get
before the apocalypse

waiting behind the boathouse
one question leads
to another
until there is nothing left
no lies or deceit or promises
just the beautiful truth
that they are here for a reason




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

Inside Little Ararat


Lightning’s been striking
at an extraordinarily high pace
randomly taking out cell towers
and paralyzing parts of the grid

It seems as though everything
has become radicalized
be it politics or religion
extreme weather or world wars

Meanwhile there’s a profiteer
building a state-of-the-ark starship
locals & tourists calling him out
saying he’ll never pull it off




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

bullets ripping through space


I’ve been called to see
in six dimensions
by who exactly
remains a mystery
for all I know could be jesus
or satan or mister john lennon

as bukowski would say
I was born into this
sorting out observations
percolating in the background
where so few of us
can or cannot see

dead or alive beware
the mockingbird
elvis or caesar once said
and steer clear of
heavily armed angels
guarding the perimeters




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

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