jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Dreams”

a good night’s sleep


here we go again
plunging into the red
walls caving in and ceiling dropping
I lift my hands above my head
prolonging the inevitable
yelling at everyone to get out
get out

no it’s not a dream
this sickening viral nightmare
evolving like a self fulfilling prophecy
spawned from out of nothing
each passing hour growing darker
eyelids fluttering faster
than is humanly possible

it’s a symmetrical world
we work and play and sleep in
sometimes working in our favor
but mainly indifferent to our
desires and insecurities
a stark reminder how we all need
to get a good night’s sleep




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

more mercy please


I dreamed I was a pantomime cat
who refused to show any mercy
spending his days daydreaming
and nights wandering the streets
acting out whatever it was
he daydreamed about

my eyes were emerald green
my coat a steely gray
and whenever the streetlamps
shined their light my way
I changed my stripes and
hightailed it the hell out of there

I tell myself one of these times
I won’t make it back alive
but in the meantime I’ll keep
challenging the status quo
working mathematics by day
and my daydreams by night




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

premonition


that constant desire to escape
from what or to where like an
indescribable determination
constantly changing
eventually evolving into a viral
dream without end

you see yourself in there
chasing fire and rain
one moment flying like an eagle
the next burrowing beneath
the earth like something
you’ve never seen




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Wanting to Believe in the Dream


What is your problem America
why do you continue
to screw up both at home and abroad
acting like little children
in the house that Washington built
throwing tantrums and pointing fingers
unable to play in anyone’s sandbox
all because you believe
you’re better than anyone else

Strip down to your bare bones America
and expose yourself for who you are
shameless and afraid and insecure
like certain Hollywood directors
who think the world is theirs to take
like those players and lawyers
manipulating rules and laws of the land
benefiting nobody but themselves
and their related interests

Where o’where America do you go from here
after all the acts of war and aggression
having left the world a more dangerous place
how can you ever forgive yourself
for genocide and slavery and hypocrisy
when will you ever truly turn the page
converting past wrongs into true rights
starting with finding a way
to house and clothe and feed your own




january two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

better run thru the jungle


february is on my mind
but she’s nowhere in sight
pretend morning fog
whispers in my ear
you’ve got no place to go

so I curse the winds
stuff suffocating thoughts
inside my pockets
telling myself
one day I’ll see the light

I keep waking up
in the middle of the night
trees burning brightly
firefighters fighting
for a clear path out




january two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

where do we go from here


I knew his intentions
from the very beginning
having picked me up just before
noon in the big boat convertible
six rolling rock tall boys
sweating in the back seat

we find ourselves on unfamiliar
backroads without directions
he calmly says
he’s got this one
as we slow things down
and gradually ratchet up the hill

once at the top I close my eyes
he raises his hands off the wheel
suddenly recreating
a scene he’s always known
and me instantly realizing
this time he’s not alone




january two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

and so the dream continues


she wakes and I sleep
the day has yet to break

sounds from below
incorporate into my dreams
sights and smells and those
unusual turn of events

I switch to my other side

there’s no sense anticipating
that tap tap tapping
on my second story window
something tells me
there are other ways
to be awakened
whether on my own or by
someone far and away
from someone
who once loved me




december two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

castles made of sand


wake up wake up
the moon she is arising

grab your ugly sweater
the one that amuses me in my dreams
and meet me at the shoreline

stuff your pockets with little candies
leftovers from late october
we’ll pick and choose as we please

lockstep in bare feet
we walk silently hand in hand
counting castles along the way

kiss me kiss me
for a fear I may be awakening




december two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

morning commute


three a.m. suddenly awake
I dreamed I was unable to breathe
a self-induced choking
my hands slightly trembling
I press my palms against my cheeks
perhaps flush or white as a ghost
I could not tell
I could not tell

after walking two super-sized blocks
I dreamed I fell back asleep
encountering further interruptions
windshield wipers wiping away
intermittent freezing rain
exposing yellow school buses
fluorescent citizens walking their dogs

by the time I reach the city center
the ingenuous homeless keep me on my feet
flashing by on motorized conveyances
powered by recycled municipal waste
or donated cans of boston baked beans




november two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

tug of war


I’ve secrets so old I’ve long forgotten
where they may be stashed

how I wanted to let you in
release clues as to my state of mind

I’ve been replaying childhood dreams
reawakening past events

if memory serves me right
there’s a trap door around every corner

sometimes I open it sometimes I don’t
the tug of war continues




october two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

One beautiful dream


I dreamed of African violets
uprooted and transplanted and repackaged
transported from their ancestral lands
introduced to newly formed territories

I found myself walking unfamiliar streets
passing one storefront window after the next
each one blossoming with the latest
sensation of the season

How am I to distinguish the real
from the imaginary from the ever falling rain
replenishing the good earth with new life
one beautiful dream at a time




october two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

when dreaming of colors


the autumn equinox falls flat on my face
deep in dream state I am suddenly
wide awake
I sit up and attempt to determine
exactly what it is that woke me
and exactly where I might be

am I dead or am I alive
I wonder with uncertainty
bold numbers glowing in my peripheral
I turn and squint and see
it’s nearly three in the morning

I was dreaming of colors I say aloud
of the sunset and the moon’s shine
of the oak tree shedding its coat
atop the green green grass

yes I was dreaming beautifully
and you rudely awoke me
[mother nature or god or my own intuition]
less than sublimely reminding me
one day I will be the one who is falling




september two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

my iphone photo from 2011
my iphone photo from 2011

promise me one thing


it was saturday morning
and you promised we would
pick flowers unless it rained

the rain never came
and neither did you
and I was left rearranging
my hopes inside a brown paper bag

next day the sun shined
like it had never done before
and for a brief moment I believed
this time you would come around




august two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

occurrences at the break of dawn


I’ve repeating dreams
experiencing violent deaths
but each morning
I awaken unharmed

the occurrences are infrequent
but make no mistake
the pattern cannot be overlooked
each episode unrelated to the next

periodically I wonder
or better yet analyze the meaning
behind these dreams
whether what I’m witnessing
has absolutely nothing to do with me
and everything to do with you




august two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

call me up in the middle of the night


I wake up and I’ve got nothing to say
rather listening to birdsong
infiltrating through screen windows
reminding me the need to sing like them

it seems to me they know something
more about life than they let on
leading me to believe I should spend
less time hanging out in the weeds

I’ve been busy making birdhouses
mainly because I don’t know
how to build a rose

I’ve been busy navigating maps
designed to get me from this point
to the next sunrise

it seems to me that by this time
I should know something more than you
but truth be told we were both born
with all the knowledge in the world

I wake up and find myself whistling
a song I learned long ago
a little ditty always close to my heart
whether wide awake or dreaming




july two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the damsel and her prince


let me dream like never before
cast into a strange accepting world
living and breathing effortlessly
neither on land nor in sea
rather somewhere in between

here there is no such thing
as rest or sleep or fantasy
always on the move like damselflies
flitting from flower to flower
kissing ghost-like amphibians




july two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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