jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Dogma”

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

no consequence of the word


I’m losing my eyesight
it’s been a slow process
transpiring since
the day I was born
a genetic reality passed on
by nobody’s fault of their own

as a lesser prophet
my visions are my voice
and whether or not
you like what I say
the darkening of my peripheral
has no consequence of the word





december two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

preparing for the next exam


there is no test tonight only theory
a flashing picture show
beaming from your eyes onto the white wall
an abandoned starling adolescent
gathering himself on the window ledge
you spend a moment trying to read his mind

you blink and suddenly he’s gone once & for all
the color of your eyes change from blue to green
from your vantage point all you see
is what’s behind the ledge
something blue & something brown
you untangle yourself & rise to your feet

what you expect is no different from yesterday
the same day you gave out dollar bills
one after another to complete strangers
emotionless & robotic you carried on
everyone around you gracious & concerned
some of them calling you the chosen one




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

repurposeful


oh wait dear lord
for I am not quite ready to rest
peacefully at your right hand

first you must cast me out
back into the streets
where my voice will rise above the chaos
higher than the skyscrapers

yes all will listen and the gathering
will grow into a purposeful swarm
weaving and sweeping through the streets
our words knowledgeable & lyrical
reasonable & rhythmical
becoming the next great communication
delivered with newfound authority

though it is my voice they are your words
echoing throughout the night
leaving behind a trail of new thought
scattered like seeds in our wake




july two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

temple of the dog


for the time being there’s nothing left to look at
everything’s been torn or burned down
systematically destroyed if you will

there’s talk on the street
everything’s going to be rebuilt
only this time
the landscape will be completely different

& best of all it will only take three days




june two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

this is only a test


they say there’s an open book test afterwards
taken in a room full of empty school desks
geometrically formed like a military cemetery

you’re the first one to sit down
and soon thereafter
every person you ever knew
fill the remaining seats one by one

true or false when you were twelve your mother
made you smoke a cigarette in front of her
and afterwards warned you ‘never again’

multiple choice was your first fish caught
from the banks of the mississippi
a cat or a smallmouth bass or a bluegill

it’s okay if you don’t remember
it’s all ancient history by now
like bill & monica or romeo & juliet or adam & eve

this test has no time limit
and the clock on the wall has no hands
and those winged creatures walking back & forth
between the endless aisles
haven’t anything better to do
while waiting for their number to be called

with each wrong answer you’re beginning to wonder
what the consequences could possibly be

I mean will they cast you back & make you start all over




april two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Color TV


The city center is dead
like Lazarus of Bethany
three days removed from reality
soon to go on four

There are fewer varieties
of pigeons sweeping the streets
and even fewer homeless
following not much further behind

Looking for food here
is becoming a scarcity
leftovers abruptly becoming
buried with the past
aeries and penthouses
gradually vacated

Behind some high-rise windows
so many untold stories
behind off-white shrouds
varying degrees of light
flit & flutter like a butterfly
suggesting there may be life after all




april two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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