wind chimes hardly whisper
interrupting predawn dreams
like a first passionate kiss
bluebird angels sighing within
wishing to imitate
branches blossoming
the first sign of spring
waning crescent moon calls you
from your slumber
mars and saturn subconsciously
tugging at your comforter
like impatient felines
needing to usher in
all that is welcoming
march two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
out of thin air paper castles
tower above cumulus clouds
constructed by men skilled at
shaping dreams into
concrete ideas
I remained at ground zero
unfolding plans on a tabletop
saying look see here
this is where we must rebuild
and so we burned everything
on the spot
a virtual bonfire slowly growing
visible by satellite
smoke in the sky billowing
shaped like an ark
carrying away pairs of anything
that ever was or will be
march two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there are no secrets in poetry
only rhyme and reason
and quiet determination
ambitious are young hearts
dying to be heard above
the din of repetition
fear not the word of others
rather practice the art
of reading and imitation
seemingly elusive dreams
are best captured at dawn
as they begin transitioning
like alien interlopers
march two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
they experiment with microwaves
sending subliminal text messages
and messing with my dreams via wifi
I wake up in a criminal sweat
wondering what in the world I had done
these past three nights
secret agent men keep knocking on my door
at all hours of the day
undercover cat pleading for me to open up
so she might escape the madness
of course I refuse to answer to anyone
feeding the kitty golden treats
and spending my days googling
searching for elusive guru
who can restore my identity
and cleanse me of my killer status
february two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
from beginning to end
all we do is practice
no matter rhyme or reason
or particular purpose to carry on
whether on road leading to
bandstand on country hill
better yet at wembley stadium
or carnegie hall
there are no free rides
no assurances along the way
but there are tickets to collect
at nearly every turn
easily transferable to friends
and family and strangers
or whosoever believes
long before you ever do
february two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I made pekoe for two
in my red porcelain teapot
but it was just me and my thoughts
retiring to the sunroom
bird songs in the background
streams of consciousness meandering
inside sublime daydreams
mixing fantasy with memories
and all that was meant to be
february two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I imagine you’re sleepwalking
while I’m intermittently dreaming
your whitish curly haired lap dog
dressed in holiday sweater
leashed and pleading to go outside
to greet rising curved moon
it’s another mid-winter night
and I roam from room to room
trying to track you down
but as usual you’re one step ahead
sometimes disguised
as three blind mice
other times the carving knife
january two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
pretending new moon
shines upon streets of singapore
I am reminded
of candles in window
flashing lights scream across
inner city streets
red and blue and white hot
giving chase inside
some long forgotten dream
bursting open barriers
words make inner sounds
slowly raising my consciousness
at two twenty-two in the morning
unopposed to where I landed
I play out my part in the dark
arms raised
and mouth wide open
cornered in some well-lit alley
january two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
winter is a temporary affair
beautiful and inviting from the inside
fires burning in twilight
bodies warm and comfortable
dreams hot and cold and as real as life itself
she looked like an angel from afar
and especially up close
a winged creature who whispered
to me in my dreams
how winter is a temporary affair
and soon I will come back to life
and she will show me how to live again
how I wanted to believe her
but in the morning all was lost
those dreams I could easily touch
once again become out of reach
and as I go about my day
I repeat to myself
winter is a temporary affair
january two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she said we were friends
but I never believed her for fear
it was only a dream
I never knew who to believe
ever since I was five years old
when neighborhood boys
kicked the crap out of me for
reasons never known
on christmas eve restless eyes
survey the skies from darkened
room with oval window
bringing in the faintest lights from
places secretly existing
I spot a particular star dying to be seen
a little gem with a wry smile
promising myself I’ll revisit her
as often as possible
as long as she would have me
december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
sitting in the dark
watching cars pass by
snow quietly falling
not a star in sight
everything’s unplugged
sound of winter settles in
pulsating candlelight
casting shadows on walls
touching rags and bones
other world sleeps upstairs
while down below you
redraw black & white dreams
subtracting out the bad
adding new color
until every ornament
collected throughout the years
is perfectly placed
on your imaginary tree
december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the university paid him dearly to lecture
about his dreams
three days a week to hundreds of undergrads
recounting big winnings in vegas
trafficking drugs and humans in all kinds of worlds
and slaying fire-breathing dragons while
strolling through sherwood forest with
nothing but bow and arrow
like a time machine he dialed up
triangles and chains of events
and conflicts of interest
introducing the likes of mozart
and hitler and michael jackson
cameo appearances by jekyll and hyde
and the great houdini —
elvis and jesus christ and charles manson
quietly waiting in the wings
he used his hands and eyes
to amplify the effect of his words
which were spoken mostly softly
occasionally loudly
and infrequently quite scarily
many would take notes
others would use smartphones as recorders
but the far majority simply sat back
relaxed and indifferent
going through the motions as if
they were living his dreams themselves
december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
sometimes I pretend we talk
how we’re not going anywhere
and sometimes I believe it
I learned to chant years ago
and I’ve never stopped doing it
for fear I may stop existing
november came and went
just like she always does
promising to return again
you keep revisiting me
in real life and in my dreams
only to leave me time and again
forcing me to move forward
november two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
whispers in my ear
like a dream preceding sunrise
sweet murmurings making me smile
telling me to stay asleep
there is no place to go from here
other than up
and when I awaken I will go there
speeds exceeding
a million miles per hour
play me something relaxing baby
she sighs in these early hours
well before birds begin stirring
conjuring my innermost thoughts
blasting them beyond the treetops
november two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
sun surely needs you
pale in cheek you seem to be
lose the umbrella
dream versus fake world
tap tap tap on your shoulder
wake up morpheus
quiver of arrows
sneaking around a rainbow
aiming for the moon
opiates prescribed
addiction is sure to come
endless nights awake
november two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
three in the morning wakes
me like clockwork
as if the cock is crowing at
stars falling from the sky
was it fever or dream
that shook me wide awake
both former and latter
leaving me in a cold cold sweat
I sit up & shift to the edge of the bed
my feet unable to reach anything
this room is not mine
and where the door resides
I can’t begin to surmise
how do you escape from a place
that has no address
and how will I ever find the sun
if there are no windows to open
or cracks in the walls to scratch
october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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