jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

04 Mar 2020
4 Comments

all while playing the piano


down below there’s a load in the wash
colors mixed in with black and whites
singing & circulating & commingling
absolving past stains en masse

out in the backyard pool
babies swim beneath the surface
as if they were born there
their mothers silently motioning
communicating via hand signals

thousands of feet higher and higher
humans fly like vertical rockets
relearning how to breathe
inevitably breaking the sound barrier




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged ,
03 Mar 2020
2 Comments

breathing in new life


I suppose we won’t know for sure
until we’re walking dead ourselves
and even then we’ll have doubts
until everything comes into focus

there’s a reason for everything
or so they say
but try telling that to a grieving mother
whose teenage son is forever lost
now wandering amongst the dead

it’s unknown how many
continually influence our daily lives
coming and going as they please
strolling sublimely by our side

one fact remains
we don’t know what we don’t know
such as if our effortless breathing
may be more than superficial




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , ,
02 Mar 2020

the art of waiting


from wall street to respirator
you are shockingly put out to pasture
sharing grass with retired pacers
and a flock of salt & pepper sheep

the main field is flat and wide open
the southern stretch uneven and rising steep
a rock & dirt trail meandering upward
an occasional bench located along the way

learning to commingle and rehabilitate
you stretch & imagine your ascension
only to pause at the final station
questioning the desire to go any higher




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
01 Mar 2020
2 Comments

premonition


that constant desire to escape
from what or to where like an
indescribable determination
constantly changing
eventually evolving into a viral
dream without end

you see yourself in there
chasing fire and rain
one moment flying like an eagle
the next burrowing beneath
the earth like something
you’ve never seen




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, Poetry and tagged , ,
29 Feb 2020
4 Comments

never imitate (and never die young)


never imitate but be yourself
my mama once told me

but who am I mama but a boy
like all other boys
wondering when I will become a man

never hurry son and never imitate
learn to love yourself first

but who am I mama but a boy
dreaming of going to war
and dying a courageous death

oh no child you will never go to war
take that silly notion out of your head
learn to never imitate and remain yourself
even when you are lost and alone

but mama I don’t want to be
lost and alone
I want to go off to war
and never come back
and make you as proud as you can be




february two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , ,
28 Feb 2020
3 Comments

business as usual


it doesn’t feel any different this time
but go ahead and try to convince yourself
and everyone around you that it is
and maybe a little panic might set in

this is not the last resort but with a little
improvisational creativity it certainly can be

out of an abundance of caution
we didn’t leave the house for twelve days
and when we finally did set foot outside
the local birds twitched their necks in disbelief

contrary to popular opinion it’s still safe
breathing in and breathing out this earth air

believe it or not things will get much worse
before starting to get better
but until then the wars continue to rage
and the hungry still hunger




february two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged ,
27 Feb 2020
2 Comments

putting the wheels in motion


it’s past midnight
but the night is still young
well lit by a fattening moon

we meet by chance at the ranch
you arriving unannounced
me home on spring break
a few grain belts and half pack of
winstons all that’s left

we’re not exactly using our inside voices
but whoever happens to be here
is fast asleep on the second floor

it’s so much easier
to keep the lights on than not
easier to fuel up in the kitchen before
hitting the road for the river
a quick stop along the way
a twelve-pack and smokes
and whatever it is the man says
the catfish are striking




february two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Fishing, Poetry and tagged , ,
26 Feb 2020
4 Comments

standing in line


yes it’s true the world is dying
[is always dying]
and we are a witness to its death
[its glorious death]
a slow and painstaking process
mysteriously inevitable
and eternally unanswerable

the airports are nearly empty
and the streets eerily silent
filled with long lines of masked pantomimes
arms extended and palms open
shadowed closely by feathery creatures
unable to fly and feverishly
sweeping up the crumbs

high above the skyscrapers
far beyond the tallest of trees
patches of blue begin to emerge
perhaps a sign of better times yet to come
or simply a figment
of every child’s imagination




february two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, In the City, Poetry and tagged , ,
25 Feb 2020
4 Comments

make yourself


it’s a saturday morning
and you’re busily taking yourself apart
just you and a youtube video
illustrating how piece by piece
and bit by bit

rear man door and overhead fluorescent
give you all the light you need
tools sprawled out on the garage floor
each one serving a specific purpose

this isn’t the first time
you’ve tried to make yourself
and most likely won’t be the last
but maybe (just maybe) this time
you’ll be good to go come monday




february two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
24 Feb 2020

all alone in no uncertain terms


in the early hours the grass was frosted over
from a thin layer of overnight snow
but by afternoon everything turned green again

it was a long and dark morning
eventually brightened by a weak december sun

we found ourselves either walking arm in arm
or standing hand in hand
speaking seldomly and listening to birds chattering
women young and old praying and weeping
their breathing variable and visible
a runaway child laughing and hopping through the field
like a puppy dog chasing a butterfly

by midday the gathering suddenly dispersed
and we found ourselves back where we started
retracing our footprints and our thoughts
all alone in no uncertain terms




february two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , | Leave a comment
23 Feb 2020

on becoming a god


here I am again
magnifying glass in hand
examining the fly in the spiderweb
making fire with the sun

whether from a torn fingernail
or a crack in the porcelain
there’s plenty of room for anything
to enter or depart this biosphere

up close things look either worse
or beautifully exaggerated
like the death of the executioner
or my own facial striations




february two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , | Leave a comment
22 Feb 2020
7 Comments

no one sings like you anymore


how many songs will carry me
how many verses and choruses
how many lyrics memorized
oh it’s an impossible count

like the flute to the cobra
or feline to violin
musical relationships exist
in a strictly personal sense

beyond the mystic
already lighter than a feather
basking in a surreal sun
finally oh finally I find your voice




february two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry
21 Feb 2020
2 Comments

orchestrated violence in the night sky


sixty minutes and counting
where did everyone go
they must not realize
the fun is just beginning

it may be true some things
we stopped talking about
but that doesn’t mean
we can’t continue to celebrate
what little wins we have left

thirty minutes and counting
lost souls beginning to wonder
should they come back to earth
and try this all over again

why do we shelter our children
when we know most of them
eventually become adults
more than capable of deciding
what’s in their best interest

tee minus ten as they say
time to decide once and for all
do we blast off enthusiastically
or remain forever grounded




february two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged ,
20 Feb 2020
6 Comments

how long this time


there’s nothing complicated about it she says
but I disagree without saying a word
stuffing whatever personal belongings
I can find into my weatherworn backpack

a lone violin begins playing on the radio
and suddenly I am transported to another day

she continues to talk above the music
most likely of money and promises and roses
but all I can hear is the violin lifting my spirits

she rises off of the bed and reaches for the radio
asking how long I’ll be gone this time
knowing full well the answer is probably forever




february two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
19 Feb 2020
3 Comments

an exception to the rule


expectations come and go
reminding me of a recurring reverie
forever leaving the city lights
swinging from tree to tree

search lights work all night long
penetrating the tallest redwoods
hoping to spot a single freckle
darting from bough to bough

natural light outshining
the darkness from within
dual realities secretly merging
thriving from dream to dream




february two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry
18 Feb 2020
2 Comments

purloined hearts and assassinations


I keep counting on my fingers
like I’m five years old
solving one equation after the next
as if it’s nothing but a thing

I’ve quietly learned to separate
distance from time
without having to use my fingers
or any other cognitive skills

I once fell in love with an assassin
with a selfless attitude
and the quickest seven fingers
(I’ve ever seen)
this side of the mississippi

oh lord how she stole my beating heart




february two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,

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