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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Dogma”

church bells will be ringing


there is no turning back
(not now)
after all has been said and done

though regret begets misery
you occasionally look behind you
knowing you can’t take anything back
your precious recollections
much different than other realities

it was a saturday and the church
bells did ring at noon
rain giving way to sunshine
enlivening stations of the cross
etched upon stained glass windows

invisible gates sway wide open
light infiltrating and reflecting
exposing twelve concrete steps
you’ve stumbled down too many times





december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the worst is over (or love me when i’m gone)


abraham chopped wood because he liked
to burn it on cold winter nights
or because god commandeth it so

in the early hours when fire in his eyes
diminished to near nothing
he’d awaken from lack of oxygen
and proceed to jump-start his day

chain of events unfolded inevitably
one altar leading to two or three
challenging false belief that sacrifice
somehow supersedes life itself





december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

god willing there will be work


she may have been an angel
but often let the weather
affect her daily mood
unpredictably

lightning could easily set her off
or calm her nerves
depending on time of day
and task at hand

the homeless knew her best
had no idea she was not human
but loved her stories
especially how she romanticized
being born under scorpio’s sign

she’d often go missing for days
sometimes weeks
stray cats patrolling at night
commissioned as her private eyes

my work is never done here
she often complained or cajoled
depending upon who would listen





december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

night before the days to come


sunrise pushes back with each passing morning
telegraphing how the inevitable comes upon us

red plastic hummingbird feeder sways outside
stained glass window on late october early evening

all hallows’ eve opens door to saints and souls
seeking asylum in my walls or another dimension

I’ve plenty of mothballed costumes up in the attic
though oftentimes wonder who is wearing them





october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

california breaking away


and finally the fires extinguished
themselves
giving way to rains and
eventually floods
chasing ants and jesus freaks
to higher ground

and from the heavens angels
watch amusingly
as noah takes up residence
outside beverly hills
repairing his ark
gradually garnering attention





october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

walking on water


june has come and gone
but the moon is here to stay
though at times not obviously

poor june dismissed without reason
cast away into the heavens
searching for twins and crabs
on the far side of mercury
perhaps never to return

there was no fanfare
here in middle america
perennial fog hiding the moon
for years on end
frustrating a nomadic people
with nothing left to worship

meanwhile there is news
a new sea forms and foams
somewhere in middle africa
where virgin sands appear
(out of a nowhere)
a newborn sent from god
baptized into chaos



september two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

jericho dreaming


walls of flowering vines
climbing brick and mortar
stitch and sewing along the way

whatever bends or breaks
before and after winter
can surely be repaired or
worst case replaced

bracing for the worst
no longer fits the bill
not as long as circular life forces
unpredictably barrel along
nearby sea and then some

walls have long crumbled
though flowering vines remain
uplifted by an acceptance
to this day unexplained



august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

what’s on your hard drive


joseph had been missing for many
days and the sheriff told lois
mary was a person of interest

she kept insisting he had called
an uber driver the day before
to pick up their son in san salvador

but no such records ever existed
according to law enforcement
but law enforcement had nothing
to do with their predicament
that is being trapped inside
a jesus christ superstar song



july two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

how I miss her so


she told me I needed to go do
something before dinner
so I went to my room and prayed

she was my mother and
of course there was no room
but regardless I left the
premises and prayed

along the way I found interesting
things to pick up
but each piece I brought home
served no purpose

you should stick with praying
she said

and so I agreed



july two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

wounded angel


I set the oscillating fan on the second
of three settings
blowing warm air straight through
the wounded angel

I don’t think she’s breathing
I say while trying to make the fan oscillate

I don’t know if angels actually breathe she said
wrapping a cold press across his forehead

aren’t angels supposed to be helping us
I say pressing button after button

would you just leave that damn thing alone
she said and help me move her
back into the shade

that damn sun keeps moving I say
he’s not looking so hot
shouldn’t we call 9-1-1 or something

no we’re not going to call 9-1-1 she said
what are you fucking crazy



july two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

decoding the killer gene


though knocking loudly at the gate
the brilliant sunrise could not get through


jesus freaks sat outside the borders
healing the other side without lifting a hand
absolving self-inflicted wounds

somewhere in a basement in america
a new code is creating itself
concocted by a lost soul
again reborn

folklore and chronicles and atrocities
fuel an already hungry mind
manufacturing new ambitions by
discovering anti-killing algorithms





june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

too young to be taken away


they said she was dying
and so she was
and so she did
pass away amongst nondescript
fanfare

time passed
and so everyone else living
(or everything else living at that)
continued on with time
some continuing to live in the moment
and others not so much

every so often her name comes up
in casual conversation
perhaps at a coffee shop
or walking past third street windows
pondering and wagering how many angels
were required to sail her away





june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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