he took the microphone
and introduced himself
men without souls below him
fists raising and voices cheering
redefining their short-lived lives
chanting ingrained mantras
he convinced them they are
more than mere machines
destined to find praise and glory
long after the killing is done
january two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
poetry is a story
a picture
a locomotive out of control
a spaceship exiting inner space
connecting with anything
that may or may not rhyme
december two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
apparent victors come and go
just like their opposites who crawl
and walk and run behind the scenes
climbing mystical mountains and
sailing impossible dreams
asked to start fires
put out fires and
catapult fireworks into the night
fallout from the blasts twinkling
like a dying star
consumed by the unseen
november two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
humble currents bring bountiful
trace elements and
serenity to the shoreline
introducing essential nutrients capable of
feeding the masses through next winter
alas the abundance is but an illusion
and once impenetrable clans
(feeding freely upon the land)
find themselves fighting behind the lines
find themselves questioning
their time and place in history
october two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
little paper moon inside
my watch pocket
keeping time like I never knew
changing from sliver
to full without being seen
brightening and fading
like a kiss from my little girl
wishing the world would
always stay brand new
august two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
when pretending to sleep in the crib
many friends of the family
came and went
commenting about this and that
my conscience told me this is exactly
how it will be in the end
bored from all the attention
I fell asleep and
dreamed of becoming the man
who lived to touch the sky
july two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
running through fields with
raised nets and breathable lids
atop glass jars
we chase down dreams
and stow away
childhood memories
unaware one day our hidden
beauty will be unveiled
july two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
those freckled spots mysteriously
appearing overnight on my arms
remind me
how very much alive I am
my markings like rings on a tree
perhaps one day
exposed for all to see
june two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
With exact timing the rain-soaked branchlet
released water-droplets; while below
a soft, geranium petal strained to reach
the four o’clock sun, its efforts deterred
by a consistent explosion of sorts.
originally penned circa nineteen ninety-two
audio recorded june two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’m nothing like you
I do declare
raising my nose high in the air
turning my back
(or should I say derrière)
to your very existence
and incendiary ideas
june two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we pump ourselves up with artificial
intelligence designed to make us fly by
unnoticed and unashamed
turning our dreams into newsflashes
made to fizzle in the dark
leaving everyone wondering
exactly what went wrong
may two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
they say march can be a lion
some say she’s gentle like a lamb
I say she’s no different
than I’ve ever known her
all my years living in this land
march two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the bad man could care less
about fingers pointed
in his general direction
could care less
when blamed for the sun
not shining
or the dark clouds
not forming
when all anyone really wanted
was a little rain falling down
february two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
how do i decide
what to believe is real?
should i follow my thoughts
or just live out my dreams?
there once was a time
i worried about my heart
but as the years pass on
i know it’s my soul
i most trust.
september two thousand seven
audio january two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
butterflies are nothing but
welcomed distractions in a
hurry-up-world
long after the youth of careless
rebellion becomes
netted in routine
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I love to play the piccolo
just before the birds awaken
my own imagination
enters their waking dreams
before the song is over
and just as the sun starts to smile
trillions of feathers
usher in the morning blue
november two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 