jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Dreams”

dreaming of tomorrow


where do you find beauty
the very definition of your being
deep-seated in the condition
known as the human experience


your eyes have seen
the beauty nature has to offer
flower & bird & celestial bodies
inviting you into their mysteries

morning sun does not exist
once you understand
that the beauty of this place
forever remains the same




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

back into your busy world


how far you’ve roamed
little lamb
chased away by barking dogs
on the hunt for a scent
nothing to do with
the likes of you


further lost day after day
tip-toeing on pins & needles
the rock tricky
& occasionally vertical
hopefully opening to a surprise
on the other side

another sleepless night
gave way to northern winds
bringing with it
dreams of the future
retracing countless steps
back into your busy world




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

early in the morning


hand me your dream
let me take it from there
let’s see how far
we can stretch the sky

it’s been ages
since I’ve heard voices
finally returning
to calm me down

I used to think angels
disguised themselves
as red wing blackbirds
restless by the roadside




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

further feeding the dream


listen
can’t you hear
that little buzzing bee
chasing you
in a dream

glass jar in one hand
lid in the other
catching flashes of light
once the sun
dissolves itself

in the dream
you are in the glass jar
shaped like your
mother’s uterus
the contents
gradually evolving

lukewarm & invisible
you direct the workers
in & out of the garden
collecting pollen
& other personal data
fed back into the dream




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

failing at REM sleep


a bark woke me up
I lumbered down the stairs
half naked
and there was this cat
on the other side of the storm door


by the time the rising sun
tapped me on the shoulder
I recalled how the dog
chased the cat
to the dark side of the moon

as I was tying my shoes
I had no recollection
of the overnight rain storms
fairly certain I failed yet again
to attain REM sleep




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

the quiet one in the corner


I try to remember
the lost dreams from childhood
baseball & butterflies
how the lady in the shoe
in the kitchen
screamed at all her children
(but I was not one of them)
all of us pretending
knowing exactly
where we came from


it was the fifteenth
maybe fourteenth century
and mother was making mead
in the cellar
me as a toddler shadowing
her every move
quietly asking where on earth
I could have come from
and ever since
never asking again




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

an angel in critical need of repair


I dreamt I had wings
its feathers in various
shades of grey
stretching them to the limit
as I stood tall atop
the empire state building

in the dream I sprung
from the ledge in a swan dive
crashing back to earth
in slow motion
the eyes behind my head
madly moving rapidly




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

spilled milk


sometimes I think we’re all
living within a dream
nothing earth shattering
yeah I get that
how someone inside you
shakes you at 6AM & says
“it’s time to dream again”
only problem is
nobody is actually there
[inside or out]
and you’re left singing
“don’t come crying to me”
all to yourself




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

Morpheus’ Brothers


The clouds are filling up
with love & hate
compartmentalized into
an anti-organized hierarchy

They often collide at high speeds
making whole systems crash
sprinklers in the server room
turning on like an isolated shower

Saying you can’t really see the cloud
is simply ridiculous
just ask any kid
lying down face up in a meadow
pointing skyward & interpreting
keywords as fact & fiction animals
specifically designed by
Icelos & Phantasos themselves




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

you used to tell me


daydreaming away
rains recede entirely
eyes open to light
unsure what day it is
or what time

where did you go
& how long were you there
better yet why oh why
did you ever return

none of us belong here
you used to me tell
& what I’ve always believed




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

row row row your boat


and so we sang the words
as children
seated in a circle & holding hands
[four jacks & a rubber ball
the most recent center of our attention]
each of us starting one after the other
repeating the chorus
time & again
smiling with the belief that life
is truly but a dream




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

by way of transportation


the mind is able but the body disabled
what kind of drugs have they injected into me
what kind of dreams do they have in store

I’ve never been to los angeles
but I’ve been to san francisco
and there I was again
seventeen going on thirty
walking the streets at night
making friends with the cold pacific

they’re trying to wake me from the dream
thousand of hands tugging at my strings
time continuing to reverse some 12 days now

I hopped on a jet airliner
and made my way to clay county
via chicago midway
eventually self-quarantining
resting atop the ancient bluffs
overlooking the mississippi

the eagles soar high in rotating fashion
I close my eyes & will them nearer
as quiet as the sky they pass me by




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

on becoming a child


from snake to mouse
to predator bird
your understanding
naturally progresses
in complete alignment
with the slightest of stars

soon you’ll be able
to build a birdhouse
a boathouse
a townhouse
soon you’ll be able
to hold a heart in your hand

at some point
you’ll be showing others
how to interpret their own dreams
humming by the fireside
thread & needle in hand
mending leathery wings




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Death Scene at the Kotel


Tarantino pointed in my direction
immediately I stood at attention
and yelled out Yes Sir

I was supposed to be an “Extra”
but for some reason
he saw something in me
and next thing I know
I’m learning my lines in the cabin
of a Seven Forty-Seven

He casted me as the New Messiah
having moved the set
miles outside of Jerusalem
learning to ride a donkey named Travolta
my mentor Uma helping me
to memorize my lines

In the final scene they shot me to death
at least twelve times
three silver bullets from a Colt 45
ripping through my bare chest
the entire crew hurriedly packing
leaving me bleeding to death
at the foot of the Kotel

I dragged my body toward the Western Sun
one arm stretched up & out
begging them not to abandon me




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

crawling in my skin


what will become of me
on those dark cold nights
not knowing if I’m
sound asleep
or walking on thin air

the air outside is oh so cold
and the wind
oh the wind she is wicked
knocking on my door
at all hours of the night

there is a fine line
between sublime identities
& newfound realities
the kind you are likely to find
crawling toward the light




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

traffic jam


I’ve been testing different mattresses
since discovering I’ve got
all this free time

the world barely sees me but I’m around
moving about in conveyances
I once dared dream

in the mid-morning I see pink flamingos
riding their bicycles on first avenue
disturbing all the black & white traffic
crawling from point alpha to omega

it’s all I can do not to show them
how it’s done
but move on I must
there are too many mattresses
I’ve yet to test drive

once the skies have cleared
millions of sparrows move in
altogether halting traffic
singing in unison enough is enough
with all this exhaustion

fast asleep in broad daylight
I dream of crows hiding behind dark clouds




october two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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