we believe in the art of words
realists with a biased agenda
embracing a not too distant past
when freedom superseded profit
trading weaponry in for pens
and ammunition for paper
we recreate a new world order
based on a peaceful tomorrow
november two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I feel feverish and contagious
and utterly powerless
like a little boy with no place to go
superman cape
hanging in adjacent closet
I sit all alone at the foot of my bed
do I dare slip under the covers
and fall fast asleep
knowing I may never awaken
or do I simply recite every prayer
I’ve ever been taught
repeating one after the other
until the morning light
november two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
mysteriously curious
I am unloved and underfed
walking along
so many fine lines
in and out of these city limits
acquaintances
may come and go
regardless if dead or alive
leaving me pondering
what the morning will bring
when the sun reaches out
touching me genuinely
I am reminded how
beautifully tragic we are
even though we have
more lives yet to live
november two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
oh there I go again
creating something out of nothing
like some kind of lesser god
attempting to imitate mortality
yes I’ve been playing with rope again
learning all sorts of new knots
but that’s all it is ~ playing
like an actor on a stage
constantly coached by sophocles
or shakespeare or beckett
as if I’ve no training at all
all I want is one last chance
to perform a one act play
one in which I can prove once and for all
I’m a force to be reckoned with
that these simple tricks up my sleeve
are actually true magic
graciously handed down to me
november two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
everything slowly becoming obsolete
like telephone lines and hand-written letters
it’s impossible to count
all the snowflakes falling from the sky
let alone the days until eternity
now you see me and now you don’t
sleight of hand and deceptive shadows
street lamps illuminating
every single snowflake falling from the sky
children dancing with open arms
nothing lasts though everything comes back
be it flower or bee or reincarnated deity
returning back to earth
like snowflakes falling from the sky
[once again] for the very first time
november two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’m lost like never before
song playing with my emotions
supplanting me to places I knew
existed but could never quite reach
I’m supposed to get dressed
for a funeral or wedding or baptism
but deciding to wear black or white
or something in the outer spectrum
seems to require more thought
than I care to admit
either this slightly haunted house
keeps growing or I’m slowly shrinking
some days taking me hours
to reach the top of the stairs
leaving me questioning my next move
once arriving at the summit
what I’ll always have though is song
one playing after another
ever familiar and streaming live
on these barely visible airwaves
november two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
flipping castles in the clouds
cruising the skies in private jet airliners
destination calmer waters
diving off sixty-foot yacht
deep below mysterious ocean bay
kicking and breathing effortlessly
all the way back to the top
back home money tree orchard
blossoms all year round
the little ones learning at an early age
free lunches are made for the poor
november two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it takes some doing getting the motor going
pulling the cord countless times
fits and starts and sputtering dead
once and for all humming along
the little devil screaming and screeching
its angry teeth having its way with the
trunk of the fifteen foot crabapple
efficiently felling it straight to the earth
november two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
She knows my name though
we’ve never met
sprite or phantom or angel
whispering in my ear
saying things only I should know
desert spring or april snow
We’ve walked this path before
but it was centuries ago
strange how some things
never change
When I need her most
she’s far beyond my realm of thought
traveling by the speed of light
most likely saving someone else
leaving me breathing heavily
and spellbound
november two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I could die before you
oh how would that be
how the tables
would have turned
whatever in the world
that means
we’ve talked about this
off and on again
names and numbers
as if really matters
keys and combinations
holding our collective breath
I could die before you
or vice versa
oh how we’ve talked
until the sweet sweet sun
rises and falls
far beyond our dying days
november two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there is much to remember and so much
more to forget
how we pick and choose what we will
butterflies in nets and fireflies
in mason jars
making sure they breathe
long enough to remember
this is only the beginning
old photograph in hand
it’s as if it was yesterday all over again
a moment in time immeasurable
in any earthly language
especially when considering
today might possibly be
the start of something beautiful
I’ve been here so many times
I’ve lost count
each time seemingly starting from scratch
a stark reminder the past
builds upon the past
while the present builds upon
possibilities
november two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
november beckons differently
than all other lunar cycles
there are no lions or lambs
just sheer madness
whether it be for better or worse
or ‘til death do us part
there may be anniversaries
or birthdays or holidays
they take a back seat
to the reality of november
its unpredictability and certainty
of death and sex and taxes
not a single one is alike
varying by degrees immeasurable
even the moon knows not
what to do come november
either boasting pure beauty
or bashful like a hungry child
october two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’ve secrets so old I’ve long forgotten
where they may be stashed
how I wanted to let you in
release clues as to my state of mind
I’ve been replaying childhood dreams
reawakening past events
if memory serves me right
there’s a trap door around every corner
sometimes I open it sometimes I don’t
the tug of war continues
october two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’ve been taking notes
casual observations
that tree is dying
and that one is healthy
will soon be taller than
a thousand stories
the queen wasp
outdid herself this year
somehow knowing
the winter will be long
ensuring her progeny
even greater success
I did the best I could
sealing all the cracks
and crevices in this
drafty conservatory
regulated by heat tape
and crafty ingenuity
as for the spiders
they are my friends
stealthily paralzying
their innocent victims
holding them hostage
forever and a day
october two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we’ve been here before
admiring this land of possibilities
minefields once again restored back to
their original condition
long before anyone ever set eye or foot
colorful fields described by word of mouth
to those who had no idea such beauty
existed in this contradictory world
descriptions eventually voice recorded
illustrated onto rock and paper and cloud
made especially for generations yet to come
october two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the university resides on both
sides of the river
and for as long as I remember
there is nothing divisive
about this city
how many years have transpired
since finding myself recalling
bits and pieces of my stay there
of the many evenings relaxing
at the lagoon shelter house
the three of us sitting cross-legged on the deck
easily adjusting our attitudes
culminated by soundless fireworks
courtesy of a slowly descending sun
october two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 