jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “In the City”

27 Jan 2023

bottles of oxygen in the wine cellar


they come to the door
and ring the bell
they are the uninvited ones

I sit in the corner chair
off-white insulated curtains drawn
the bulb of the table lamp
barely buzzing

the brightless ones move on
but I suspect
they’ll return again
more capable of interaction
the next time around

turning off the light
I nod off in near silence
a dimly lit moon rising
whispering something sweet
into my ear
promising to awaken me
as always





january two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Aliens, In the City, Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
16 Jan 2023

the apartment building


inside my mind a tiny mouse
has found some cheese
nibbling but not offering
—he’ll be quiet for a while
perhaps falling into a stupor

and I will sit in silence
imagining what his eventual
next move will be
or if he’ll simply no longer exist
for obvious reasons
such as foxes or traps
or surgical strikes
—cast from the skies





january two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
13 Jan 2023
2 Comments

Fortunate Son


Let’s see
how shall we begin
to describe the fortunate son

It’s impossible they say
a trick question
the description itself but a
mystery
like who killed Marie Rogêt

In the end
there is no such thing
except for a brief moment in human
history
that maybe just maybe
he was the boy next door
voted mostly like to become
an unsolved serial killer





januarytwo thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , ,
12 Jan 2023

czech village shuffle


it was cool at the microbrew
vinyls playing on turntable
jazz & blues & some rock & roll
streaming from the speakers
hanging from the ceiling

they take requests
or you can bring your own
tracks piped into the adjacent room
imbibers waltzing & grooving
to the likes of anyone’s guess

they say it’s the place to be
as long as the lights are low
—the barrels all aflow
hands & feet shuffling in & out
of the [corner] revolving door





january two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , , , | Leave a comment
27 Dec 2022

fire in the attic


we’re back on the ground
having jumped out of
the little white aerocraft
at the break of dawn

at the same time
the sky was still falling
flaming rocks crashing
setting our very target on fire

we were unprepared
to reverse rappel
but that’s exactly what we did
outmaneuvering the fireballs
expertly escaping from hell





december two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Aliens, In the City, Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
23 Dec 2022

Portland burning


Look what you’ve left behind
my friend
your stuff scattered
in places you’ve never been
having gotten there either by accident
or intentionally delivered
by loved ones still standing

Last night in my dream
you were alive
and never better
rounding up the troops
and shouting out marching orders
your famous last words
it’s now or never my friends





december two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, In the City, Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
15 Dec 2022

truth or dare


nobody knew there would
be a test today
not even the teacher

a bomb threat forced them
to vacate the premises
and they set off on foot
to the amphitheater
on the west side of the
tree-lined river

it was there they exposed
their souls
one by one for some
others two by two
and even three by three
queried intensely
of life & death
in the end left to choose
either truth or dare

creativity had no limits
in what became
a sacred undertaking
where birds of different colors
sought the safety of the trees
experiencing the discomfort
of the tragedy
and the relief of the comedy
of the spoken word
filling the open air





december two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, In the City, Poetry and tagged , , , , | Leave a comment
27 Nov 2022
5 Comments

Christmas Eve Massacre


At birth, I was cast into a flaming pit of scum forgotten by God.
   — Mickey Knox

America the Beautiful
unaccepting of the past
such pride & prejudice
home to many haters
birthing mass murderers
one day at a time

Smoke & mirror history
gives way to a new reality
this twenty-first century
exposure & denial
run rampant on the streets
like Natural Born Killers





november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , ,
04 Nov 2022
1 Comment

if I could wish it all away


there’s no sense in testing the water
it’s the same as it’s ever been

every wednesday morning at nine
the city tests the loudspeaker system

one day it’ll prove itself to be futile
or utile —it’s funny how only time will tell

lenny kravitz sings about getting away
I tap my foot & chime in right out loud

replacing his simple words with mine
as if I’m some sort of ad lib junkie

knowing I’ve not a say in the matter
nor interested in wishing it all away





november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , ,
19 Sep 2022

missing in action


there’s nothing to see here
everybody move along

when authority figures
tell people to move along
chances are
there is plenty to see

the shooting took place
mid-morning
and by lunch time
two dwellings & three
vehicles were taped off

there was plenty of talk
but not much action
& those with pics or vids
on their person
most likely kept them
close to the vest





september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
16 Sep 2022

doctor strangelove


there is a strange frequency in the air
and the traffic is lighter than usual
[nearly nonexistent actually]
it’s as though the small & bright city
has become a ghost town

pick a year any year and you will
find how nothing has changed
how ghost towns have become
overtaken by nature in seventy-five
or one hundred years’ time

of all the cold wars taken place
this one is the most chilling
women & children sacrificed
by the hundreds of thousands
the men mysteriously evaporated





september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , | Leave a comment
14 Sep 2022

A Peanut Farmer in Iowa City


I’m going by memory
so my facts may be a little fuzzy
but it was the early eighties
and I was in line
at Hamburg Inn No. 2

Supposedly Jimmy Carter
was a few spots ahead of me
or so the young lady I was with pointed out
me promptly responding
with something like shut the fuck up

Like I say I’m going by memory here
but I’m pretty sure both Jimmy
and I ordered a double swiss &
a small fry

(I don’t remember what drinks
they offered
but if they had beer on tap
that was probably it)

There’s no way you could eat
inside the smallish & popular place
most of the booths & seats & stools
nearly always taken
a minority of which
by ghosts of politicians past

As we headed back downtown
—lunching while we walked—
I kept asking what’s her name
if she was absolutely sure





september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
06 Sep 2022
2 Comments

wet dream


don’t call us they kept repeating
in my dream
actually they were singing it
don’t call us baby
we’ll call you

it was as if wolfman jack
had somehow gotten in
shadowing me like a wild thing

running at full speed
every chance I could get
only the corners could slow me down
inside this inner city jungle

hailstorms preceded
intensely global temperatures
leaving everyone soaked to the bone
wondering what kind of animal
they had become





september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, In the City, Poetry and tagged ,
11 Aug 2022

natural born killers


do you see my face
how it’s changed over the years
behind these bars
my eyes are barely visible

nobody here knows my name
nobody’s available
to interpret my dreams

I talk to myself without speaking
a stark reminder how
it’s always been this way

back in the day I never slept
but now it seems that’s all I do

back in the night
I roamed the city streets
blasted by light
both inside & out

fully packed & constantly aware
I look for a place to be alone

so here I am doing time
alongside natural born killers
learning from the second best
& taking from all the rest





august two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
06 Aug 2022

ghost cats of the historic mill district


the walls are rock solid here
repurposed mill district buildings
turned into restaurants
& other retail establishments
studio & two bedroom efficiencies
on 2nd & sometimes 3rd floor
anything higher than that
allegedly under reconstruction

most of the domesticated
& feral felines of the day
enjoyed their finest of nine lives
in the late 19th & early 20th centuries
their dominance still apparent
to this very day
chasing real life moths & mice
from one building to the next





august two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Animals, In the City, Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
04 Aug 2022

the world isn’t full of love


the constant call to arms
loudspeakers in the city streets
projecting all the romance languages

young boys & girls tilt their heads
counting years on their fingers
virtual tactical gear painted on their skin
marching to the snare & the bugle

a caravan of tarp covered vehicles
transport wet-eared recruits
populating newly formed camps
outside the danger zone

soon the city will be empty
and children in their infinite wisdom
find what the world lacks is love





august two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , | Leave a comment

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