jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

tomorrow


it’s broken
you can’t fix it
my vision cannot
correct itself on a dime


I’ve been hitchhiking
for what seems
like a century
every morning
finding myself in line

they say there is a god
that can fix your
temporary ailments
even though I say
tomorrow is already here





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

Born on the Outskirts of Hazlehurst


There is mystery in the moment
in the here and in the now
much like the time when Robert Johnson
fell down on his knees

The greenery is incredulous
outside the city limits
cotton fields needing picking
workers singing the black man’s blues

Deals are made with the devil
on an ongoing basis
some better known than others
all with a common denominator

It’s not so much what you wish for
than what you think you need
guitar strapped on your back
heading up north on highway one





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

evolution one oh one


what’s happening today is peanuts
climate change
the steal & corrupt machines
pandemics & pointing fingers
insert your own examples here

most everyone believes
they live in interesting times
that is until they’re dead
opening up to the idea that what’s
going on here is supposed to be
working toward the common good

evolution will surely take the
human race to interplanetary travel
becoming more godlike
with each passing generation
unless of course
they kill each other first





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

heaven on earth


don’t let current events get you down
the world has always been this violent

most of the time we pretend to be safe
in our homes behind locked doors

in the summer windows wide open
curtains waltzing freely
          and in the winter
we keep them shut
feline asleep on the narrow sill
basking in the sun

out of control wildfires
fueled by straight line winds
and hundreds of dream homes
alter the landscape and complicate
the notion of heaven on earth





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

collage interpretation


they’ve been in isolation
going on three years now
making money by assembling
kaleidoscopes
at the kitchen table

the youngest is getting smarter
day by day
and the cat has become
like a carrier pigeon
taking out the trash
and bringing back news from
the outside

it’s a kind of reality
the world is getting used to
clouds transmitting signals
via air or radio or millimeter waves
occasionally changing up the frequencies
giving life to handmade
kaleidoscopes
secretly being launched into
outer space





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

one hundred nineteen acres


garden cemetery inside the city
didn’t always used to be that way

nobody imagined how urban crawl
would wrap around
a canopy of over two thousand trees

brick walls & wrought iron fencing
winding pathways & architectural beauty
all subdued by pastoral plantings
drawn up over fifteen decades ago

to be inside graceland is to be
outside of the ordinary
the dead walking among the living
inventing & articulating
playing catch
watching a rehearsal
bustling among the buyers & sellers
be they tourists or curious neighbors
or permanent residents





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

mission improbable


I raise my hand
in hopes of being chosen
skyrocketing off into space
while still being alive

this mission
isn’t exactly life or death
but it may preserve my health
beyond earthly means

they say space
will slow the aging process
traveling at warp speed
toward my rebirth





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

rabbit’s foot


we came from the depths of the ocean
and learned to breathe differently
one day walking upright on earth

years became decades became centuries
and soon peter would learn to catch fish
and levitate on the sea of galilee

time would accelerate undeterred
rebirth begetting evolutionary rebirth
what were once fins becoming wings

there is no final frontier here on earth
whether at the near outer edges
or beyond the unconscious universe





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

it’s difficult to write a new poem


it is winter and my heart begins to warm my soul

when the world around you
has suddenly changed

for you see
as much as you’d like to believe
nobody is in charge here
in fact everything is out of control

if only the morning
would arrive one last time
and I could see
everything happening
outside the kitchen window





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

when life is passing you by


delivery trucks
those ubiquitous messengers on wheels
also known as santa claus
or carrier pigeon
or marathon man
come & go but mostly go
to anyplace but your own

and there you are
in your self-imposed exile
seeking wisdom but gaining frustration
with every step van
or box truck
or pizza delivery driver
passing you by





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

repeating history


I’m beginning to understand
I am my own perennial garden
coming back to life every spring


complications seldom interfere
in the grand scheme of things
trivial matters taking a back seat
to the weather or other worldly affairs

the kindness of strangers shall be
found in the strangest of places
in the recording of your history





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

and altogether sophisticated


she wore pink cowboy boots
and ate peanut butter & chocolate
ice cream for supper

nobody questioned her appetite
or resolve to go it alone
one day venturing out into the leafless
and snow covered nature trail

gradually disappearing from sight
we prayed one day for her return
perhaps as a bright blue flower
or a frog mistaken as a prince

overnight she was all grown up
and altogether sophisticated
like she had always hoped to be





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

a prophet is born


where did you come from little girl
and how long did you dwell in the darkness
before making a new appearance

your thoughts are not yet your own
they’re transitioning from a predecessor
you do not consciously know

how quickly you’ll learn to retool
building bridges & staircases to heaven
all in less than a lifetime

real change is of the essence
though you inhale & exhale effortlessly
knowing this time will be different





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

the gathering


the spirits in the apple orchard
gathered after dusk
one by one placing fallen apples
into their wicker baskets


it was a moonless night
and the children in the farmhouse
were looking out their bedroom window
mesmerized at the faintest of light
flickering amongst the trees





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

the truth is like water


there is a path not as well worn
as it ought to be
having gradually become overgrown
by nature herself
camouflaging a once prevalent truth

having stumbled upon it
sickle in hand & spirit in thought
you’re drawn toward the babble of the stream
where the truth continues to slip
through the fingers of most





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

and on the seventh day


I could have had religion
but I wasn’t born that way



imagining unable to give life
no longer a god
the ending materializing

but that’s not how the story goes
perhaps it’s all the simplicities
that makes it so complicated

children are raising their hands
to be taken into space
away from a place
that maybe makes sense
one out of every seven days





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

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