what’s lost inside these lines
the ones once written
long ago
somehow suddenly
thrust back into the fold
did you not dream them up
in another life
only to make them come alive
time & time again
some images are difficult
to conjure
to bring back to life
to relive so to speak
like the terror
in someone’s eyes
the moment they are captured
through the lens
august two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there is strength in numbers
and now I find myself alone
the mighty empire having fallen
giving rise to newborn stars
cast away by a foreign power
I’ve become a messenger
returning to the very beginning
bringing with me the good news
july two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the intention was clear
but the action nonextant
motivated by fear
& perpetuated by greed
their forward movement
was steadily determinable
the opposition [however]
resolves to be unbeatable
their forward movement
equally purposeful
more than likely fateful
what results is unmistakable
force upon force
those inevitable forward movements
much like cosmic explosions
their lasting effects
felt right here at home
july two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we left nearly everything
there was no other way
to capture the flag
the only thing that seemed to matter
in the summer of sixty-nine
I remember I had
only wanted to play ball
but that was never in the cards
instead left strategizing
in someone’s low-lit basement
we could only assume
our house had been bombarded
likely laid to waste
while surviving relatives
roamed about like zombies
we had received word
of the headless horse
galloping into the orangish moon
a clear signal it was time to fly
the archers unloading their arsenal
june two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s evening
and everything is still
as if the earth has stopped spinning
the clouds in the sky don’t move
the water falling
down the rocks
makes not a sound
or if it does
is drowned out
by noisy high flyers
some of them are drones
others real wildlife
the former surveilling and well-
equipped
with all kinds of weaponry
the latter
doing their part
by participating in the
natural selection of order
in the suburbs
ordinary people are cleaning their guns
while in the inner city
a not-so-silent war [of sorts]
rages on
june two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s like stepping back in time
long before plymouth rock
or the white man’s first encounter
w/native americans
this 12th century castle
was the first of its kind
modeled after nothing but an idea
what it would take to stay alive
you see back then there was
plenty of human ingenuity
artistic accomplishments
& historic achievements
of course what remained
was the insatiable desire to kill
and that spread like wildfire
by way of land & sea & sky
june two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the fog machine broke down
& there wasn’t an able body
around to fix it
—they had all gone off to war
without the fog machine
[the elders lamented]
everyone left behind was certain
to die a quick or slow death
day by day the drums drew nearer
the children gave rise to thought
abandoning the fog machine
& focusing on unleashing
the flood of the century
june two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
jdubqca 