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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “War Poems”

Mechanicsville


people used to live in Mechanicsville
but few would work there

how many people do you suppose
lived inside the city limits
shall I give you a hint
a clue
a factoid

what if I told you how many beds
were in Mechanicsville
would you believe me
would you even care

from Mechanicsville
there is a road that leads to the Interstate
mostly laid due south
with a zig & a zag in between
and one big-ass bend

what if I told you nobody lived there
that it was just an idea
mechanics bank & trust
mechanics public library
mechanics auto body


I bet you could get any kind of engine
fixed there
in Mechanicsville
get your air conditioner reconditioned
your lawn mower tuned up
maybe even your teeth cleaned

and what of the new water tower
how long will the old one keep standing
is it still in working order
or simply going to rust

is there still a mayor
an elementary school principal
volunteer firefighters
—are they still such a thing
now that both bridges
are impassable
and most
main street buildings
[smoldering]
ushering in the morning light





may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

rewriting the history books


in america
natural born leaders have been replaced
by natural born killers

at a future date
historians may connect the dots
—the sublime correlation between the two
mapping the evolution from plymouth
to richmond
to the latest school shooting

students learning
all on their own
how the eradication of racism
is a moot point
as long as man & boy
continue to pursue the art of war





may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

at the mercy of the wind


nothing is in unison
the changing of the guard
but a mess
w/o the guards themselves
an old man in the corner
playing solitaire like all the others
the clouds above moving fast
& changing like a chameleon

somebody shouts
nothing is what it seems
rearranging the order of things
commanding by way of whistle
shuffling tireless sheep
to the other side of the fence
ordering gas powered machines
to cease & desist

outside the city limits
the river is green & forest red
the drums of war
bombinating for weeks on end
blending in w/the scenery
advancing & retreating
like a wayward worker bee
at the mercy of the wind





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

lady in red


the stage is set
all the players in place
the guns go off
off they go running
right out of the gate

the powers above
picking & choosing
the ones who live
all the others dead
or downright dying

destroyed this time
by hyper-dynamite
the stage is reset
players back in place
appropriately
dress in red





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

if I could only see you


I’ve lost sight of the end game
due to reasons beyond my control

if you could see what I see
it would be death & destruction
cast upon the many by the hands of a few

it’s as if a monster tornado
has ripped through sleepy little towns
leaving them leveled & burning
for days on end

forget the nuclear tactical weapons
conveyed from one place to the next
they’ve not the power to take my sight
even though I can see no more
with my very own eyes





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

one hundred million deaths


I keep going back in time
destroying what is already gone
fruitless endeavors
involving radioactive matter
nearly always
ending up in the same place

the mind & body
seek their own independence
one of them knowing
of the eventual fail
the other looking forward
to the next dimension

what’s next remains indefinable
but is as certain as the
capital’s destruction
leveled in the year of the rat
only to rise again after
one hundred million deaths





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

Plan B


There is a lull
giving me time to think
what to do with
the furniture
the cars
& the children

If we were to flee
that would either
question our innocence
or solidify our guilt
—it’s what they call
a win win situation

It seems the bail
made just the other day
isn’t worth an order
of McDonald’s fries

Inside the rule of law
tick
tick
ticks away
whereas on the outside
it’s a jungle
poachers with spotlights
picking & choosing
leisurely to their liking

In case of emergency
wield the hammer
against the glass
pick up the answer
in the form of a map
unfolding itself
time after time [after time]





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

the idol maker


close your eyes & make a wish
it just may be your last

who’s next is playing
in the background
& suddenly you find yourself
in nineteen seventy-one

the current wars
aren’t much different than the old ones
especially when launched
by the eventual loser

but the music that ensues
the poetry yet to come
now that is beauty to the ears
turkey-noodle soup for the soul
[respectively]

you sit back & say things like
I remember when
or back in the day
everyone surrounding you
singing yeah yeah yeah
a chorus for the ages





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

same as the old boss


the weather outside is frightful
like political destruction
taking out pristinely bountiful fields
& architecturally stunning cities

unheard of humans stirring up
a boiling pot of take this
machine gun tornadoes
nuclear-powered hurricanes
trigger finger earthquakes

destroy & rebuild
displace & replace
mass murders
mass graves
what kind of economy is this
what kind of human history is this
to keep handing down





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

the firing squad


we are awful villains
and we know it
—animal instincts
as brutal as any
species on earth

kill and conquer
all along the way
rock & roll blaring
only to enhance
the effectiveness

new genres sprout
generationally
giving a voice
to the those silenced
by inhumane ways





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

chasing down a dream


there is a disconnect
between sublime living
and the reality of the day
so much so
even the planes
and helicopters overhead
produce background music

execution style killings
by thugs & gangs
are just as commonplace
as walks in the park
mother & daughter & child
enjoying the sunshine
unsuspectedly

in the marketplace
a man sells as is avocados
turning pennies into dollars
cross-training his
only surviving child
working & maintaining
chasing down their dream





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

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

convergence at the river


did you see that spark
in the sky
spooking thousands of blackbirds
and sending them
to the stars

the earth shook
from the footfalls of five hundred
elephants
rushing away from the scene
of the crime
in absolute terror

the nuclear winter
was unmistakably inevitable
all the armies of the world
laying down their arms
praying the world
as we know it
will recover from its losses





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

new moon


if we’re lucky
we’ll see the moon
rise along with the sun
any day now
dismissing any worries
it was blown
to pieces
by a barrage
of nuclear warheads





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

If you could only see me


When I found myself in the U.S., and the war was at full swing in Bosnia,
I read for survival – it was a means of thought resuscitation.

— Aleksandar Hemon


A road less traveled
a place outside of the self
if only you could see me there
maybe you’d begin
to understand what it means
to be suspended in time

Not far you should find Lazarus
astir on the peninsula
fishing no doubt
waiting on the next wave

It’s nothing but a distraction
as are all the ghosts of the past
my own image
becoming ashen

Somehow you find me
and pull
me
back
in
back onto the shoulder
of a road
less traveled





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

the troublemaker turned magician


I’m not from this land
but I’ve been hearing
good news is on the way

whether it’s here to stay
is another story
but as of now
more & more bones
are being found beneath
the surface
confirming what the locals
have been saying
for decades

the front page
is not indicative of a world
some say is parallel
one in which escapes
and survives the greatest
of all evil
by way of mere
counter-madness





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

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