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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “History”

24 Jun 2020
2 Comments

taking it to the streets


they say a story has a beginning
and an end

[did you hear that I mean how
ridiculous is that]

we are the story
can you hear me as I tell it to you
my words vaguely familiar
picked up from where someone else
left off

we are nothing but ordinary people
[the far majority of us that is]
meticulously reworking the history books
taking it to the streets
and putting our lives at stake

bring your ear next to my heart
can you still hear me
telling my story
the one that had no beginning
and is dying to end
my heart rapidly beating
my lungs barely breathing
my inaudible words
becoming broken promises
in need of repairing




june two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in History, Poetry and tagged , ,
23 Sep 2019

can I get a witness


what year was it again
there’d been so many to choose from
good ones from different eras
ones we had never lived in
at least to our knowledge

we’d been drinking
homemade mead & moonshine
rolling our own cigarettes
lighting them using wooden sticks
blowing imperfect smoke rings

dial in november nineteen sixty-three
or better yet anno domini thirty-one
and get yourself a front row seat
witness for the rest of us what others
simply talk or write or read about
just be sure to come right back
and explain in granular detail
exactly what went down




september two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in History, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
03 Sep 2019

withdrawing to past places


drug deals come and go
and whether they’re legal or not
hasn’t ever seemed to matter to the
general population or big pharma

we used to think we could handle
just about anything
[be it cooked artificially
or arriving naturally]
only later did we realize
what hurts the most
can’t possibly be remedied
without assistance from the
power of the mind

and so that gets us back
why we started in the first place
experimenting without reason
attempting to get back to a place
existing before the written word
before the world had no boundaries




september two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in History, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
22 Jul 2019
2 Comments

a present day anomaly


I’m not in the mood for poetry
but lord knows the world is
calls for it at night
when little ones are sleeping
praying tomorrow
the sun will shine on those
who need it most

throughout the course
of human history
I’ve witnessed firsthand
only a thinly carved slice
and I try to convince myself
this lack of civility in most places
is simply an anomaly




july two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in History, Poetry and tagged , ,
21 Jun 2019
4 Comments

haunted in america


forensic science is alive and well
in most of these here parts
despite what’s been codified

some internal wars are never over

collisions continue on a regular basis
like rogue comets passing through
rather unsophisticated asteroid belts

those on the ground continue to shoot
at the moon haphazardly
while snipers in the trees prefer
the precision of ropes and ladders

some past sins are not easily forgotten
let alone forgiven

this land of the free is riddled with asterisks
just look to anyone still on the run




june two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in History, Poetry and tagged , ,
15 Feb 2019
4 Comments

disproving a course of history


having grown tired of the same old
same old
I’ve gone searching for something new
some kind of different story
one that’s never been told

won’t you take my hand and go
searching with me
weaving through well worn
and not so much beaten paths
until at last

there is quiet resolution
to what’s transpired in the past
as if those imperfect moments
mattered not
as if those infrequent mistakes
have been laid to rest




february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in History, Poetry and tagged , ,
11 Jan 2019

sitting down and taking notes on skull hill


I’m not about to stop whatever it is I’ve been doing
skating or stumbling or sleepwalking through
the course of ordinary events

history books never did get it quite right
whether written on walls
or stone slabs or paper or clouds

the best stories are told by the campfire
be they fact or fiction
held to the strictest of standards
handed down from one generation to the next

here I sit alone atop my very own calvary
looking down and shaking
loose the cobwebs
wondering how many more men must die
for the sake of a single solitary hill




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in History, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
25 Oct 2018
2 Comments

rewriting history


we live in interesting times
artificial intelligence
replacing original thought
bits and pieces of plastic
entering the food chain
giving new meaning to
garbage in garbage out

man may lose interest
once machines take over
3D designers replacing
likes of archimedes and einstein
shakespeare and da vinci
historical asterisks
sinking in a sea of change




october two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in History, Poetry and tagged , ,
03 Sep 2018
2 Comments

nonrefundable


history resides in books
interpreted one way and the next
just as folklore exists in spoken word form
living and dying and carrying on

of course past performance
has no bearing in what may lie ahead
so it’s best to fill your tank
and pack them books and move on

if this town was meant for you
your dreams would have told you so
speaking in no uncertain terms
like hand signals from the dead

now that your guru-slash-savior
has passed on
so too you must move forward
disregarding past sins
(that may or may not be reconciled)
and catching the next flight
as far from your comfort zone
as possible




september two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in History, Poetry and tagged ,
21 Aug 2018

reconstruction project


faces in the crowd
shed not a tear
assembled
peacefully in city square
collective expression
somber and lacking fear

clock tower strikes
thirteen times
midday sun hurries
behind dark clouds
hangman arrives
children duck and run

lessons relearned
nobody listening
history unrepentant
brokers exchanging
silver and gold
for black & white city




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in History, In the City, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
14 May 2018
2 Comments

in search of flowers


out of thin air shallow breaths are born
giving life where there was once none
providing comfort to those who grieve
to those whose lives are in desperate
need of meaningful nurturing

burial grounds of once mighty empires
have long expired and recycled into
fields of grasses and wildflowers
articulated masterpieces of complexion
breathing quietly and free from harm




may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved

Posted in History, Nature, Poetry and tagged , ,
30 Oct 2017
7 Comments

five oaks at the top of the hill


and so the rest of story can be told
now that the sheriff and his deputies
have been stripped of power
marched to the top of the hill
tried with haste and quickly
hung from the row of mighty oaks

it was a reddish pinkish dawn
and the dead men looked surreal
hanging there amongst tears and disbelief
amongst joyous cheers
and raucous jeers

historians and poets and other writers
as well as various artists
work feverishly before their inspiration
is lowered to the ground and taken
away by various men without faces

why women marched their children
up the hill
was a matter of personal perspective
and if you asked any one of them
chances are they would not tell you the truth

long after the hanging this town will continue
to be under attack from inside
as well as out

and all those who participated at the top off the hill
whether actively or passively
will sooner or later come to understand
how one must die for the sins of many





october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in History, Poetry and tagged ,
18 Sep 2017
2 Comments

children breaking new ground


perpetual revolution
a lifelong struggle defined by tiny stories
woven in and out of blankets
crafted in afghanistan

messages fly halfway across the
planet in a matter of mere seconds
complicating efforts of diplomats
struggling to keep up with the flow

you and I can meet on any street
corner on any given day
reaching for something undefinable
something certainly not touchable

one day children will be forced
to teach children the basics
digging and uncovering
discovering and enlightening

true possibilities do exist
and this concept of history
repeating itself for centuries on end
gradually gives way to hope



september two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in History, Poetry and tagged , ,
15 Sep 2017

destined to live and die here


wild horses stampede across
artificial hill outside waterloo
approximate to major shift
mountains and men bleeding
causing much exhilaration

kilometers away once free men
soon comprehend how bravado
and bondage have consequences
banished behind underground bars
joyous songs piping in

it’s been seven months or more
since the sun has shined
yet people continue to arrive
pilgrims and commoners and nobility
partaking in the simplest pleasures
praising daily powers that be



september two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in History, In the City, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , | Leave a comment
20 Jun 2017
6 Comments

stopping the impending doom


jet fighters crisscross the skies
like high flying bishops
licensed to fly

at control central pawns
surround the queen
fanning her with anything
they can get their hands on

at all four corners
white men wage war against
all other colors
wielding maces and knives
flashing suicide switches against
her majesty’s wishes

all the while horsemen
silently breathe into the fog
anxious for that chance
to live and die another day





june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in History, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , ,
27 Apr 2017
4 Comments

The hanging bridge


It was carnival season and the town
gradually transformed itself
becoming grotesque and queer
and emotionally exhausting

Determined to move forward
Billy and me walk hand in hand
he nursing along a quart of malt liquor
and me drawing on Virginia Slims

By the time we reached the bridge
they had just finished
reenacting a past less distant than
most locals care to admit

Uncertain how I could possibly hold
back the tears
I tell Billy what they did to my people
is unforgettable
unforgivable

Without saying a word
he squeezes my hand tighter
draws me nearer as the
Chickasawhay River shamelessly
snakes by directly below our feet



april two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in History, Poetry and tagged , ,

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