as evening fades like a memory
of a faraway dream
I am reminded of words spoken
barely audible above nightingales
ushering in a rising moon
a promise so to speak
made beneath the warmth
of december clouds
that the spirit of the flame will forever
prevent our love from growing old
november two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
fear infiltrates educated hallways
racial tensions fill the streets
a mother trying to quit worrying
where blue birds land on their feet
homegrown violence simmers
deep within inner city alleyways
hooded teens swagger and curse
knives sheathed inside ragged socks
street smart kids wired for sound
defend themselves from unjust laws
backpacks filled with jagged edges
sit unnecessarily beneath bus seats
homeland security doesn’t work here
not where children fend for themselves
either all alone in darkened classrooms
or recruited by enemies of the state
november two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
winter came early this year
and nobody seemed
to give a damn
instead everyone was frozen
glued to their personal devices
as if they were mere machines
screams coming from across
the pond fell on deaf ears
except for those cheering
from the other side
meanwhile dark-eyed juncos
just got back in town today
while fat-breasted robins
continued to hang out
for some dumb reason
november two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Not so random acts of madness
attack all corners of the world
leaving me with a bluesy feeling
I can’t seem to overcome
I barely hear your raspy breathing
passing through undefined lines
your outreached arms
nearly invisible in my peripheral
your cries indecipherable
beneath a rubble of mistrust
Who will show us the way
to safely reach the River Jordan
where its healing powers
give light and rebirth
to those seeking to start anew
november two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I awoke in the darkness
and stood motionless
unable to feel my own legs
In the darkness I stood
as if floating on air
my mind fixed on a pain
I could not feel
I imagined there was light
somewhere near
beyond the closed door
or on the other side of a shaded
window slightly cracked
I welcomed the silence
both from without and within
like a tortured creature
wishes death
It was like an explosion had
left my world perfectly still
neither spinning
nor traveling around a light
that for centuries had promised
prosperity to a diverse population
november two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we studied together
and recited psalms
years ago
when nobody knew your name
you kept mostly to yourself
reading scripture at night
and eschewing violence
while everyone else
danced beneath artificial lights
when the world fell apart
you slipped through the cracks
resurfacing deep inside a madness
that was nothing short of prophetic
years later I was called before
a makeshift court
forced to testify
how you had solely masterminded
a roadmap of revenge
leading to misery and destruction
what I had witnessed
would make no difference
not as long as you continued
stabbing westward
unseen and unafraid
daring an uncertain world to stop you
november two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
piece of shit chevy
idling choppily blocks away
lone lunatic in driver’s seat
under the influence of the almighty
setting his sights on suicidal destruction
certain to be caught on film
and reconstructed on the nightly news
november two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Author’s Note: The accompanying instrumental was performed by Jeff Beck from ‘In My Life,’ an album compiled and produced by Sir George Martin in 1988.
little hands reach for stars
dangling on strings overhead
dying to be called upon by
mystics challenged to ignite
their transparent inner workings
wet tea leaves randomly stuck
across the blackboard
challenge their inquisitive minds
made to solve complex problems
with unmistakable ingenuity
there are no wrong answers
circulating in this classroom
free from outside corruptions
and ideological interferences
where real ideas for lasting peace
and harmony
become smashed
into bits
and pieces
november two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
You sneak in and out of my dreams
like the sleeper catcher that you are
disappearing through star-studded walls
where you count beads on chains
and crawl on hands and knees
Of course I have no choice but to proceed
gathering crumbs along the way
cursing underneath my breath
sniffing and tasting supersonic vapor trails
you left streaming across the universe
Out beyond the planets I skip and stride
drawing pictures by connecting dots
you threw onto a blank canvas
twinkling lights redefining
what was once simply dark matter
The band on my wrist flashes and vibrates
attempting to awaken me hours before
my scheduled flight back home
somewhat smart and mechanically sound
designed to erase a world I knew by heart
november two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it wasn’t my idea to swim downstream
though I was thrown into the fray
one might say
by no choice of my own
my mother creating a vacuum
by pulling me toward her
tricking me into naturally pursuing her
by simply going with the flow
november two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I hadn’t wished for anything in about a year
so I said something out of the blue
and next thing I knew somebody was listening
to my ramblings while I later enjoyed
previously unreleased work
by james taylor
(I found myself singing along
as if I knew every word by heart)
I wished I hadn’t said some things
when I was drunk on cheap vodka
and highly potent craft porter
but that’s the way the cookie crumbles
especially the ones making a big old mess
on my walter payton jersey
freshly stained with spilt milk
november two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we had no idea how badly our
emotions would influence our purpose
fighting nature with claws
and gestures and innuendo
testing our character and inner fabric
as we sought to exploit
a newfound paradise
climbing virtual trees
we peered down from high above
emitting lowly pleas
to the gods that put us here
our intuitive cries going by unnoticed
fading in the frosty air
as dusk gives way to light
slinking back down to ground zero
we stride through
blades of the greenest grass
weighed down by lowly clouds
and morning dew
each bead a world unto itself
beckoning us to blindly explore
november two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she told me to never go away
that tomorrow will always be here
and I pretended to understand
exactly what she meant
she swore she never saw me
reading in the morning light
my story but a whisper
she tried to comprehend
she could never set me free
not while my words silently
surrounded the air and
seemingly flowed inside her
following her for days on end
and time of no consequence
I became obsessed with turning
a single day into all of eternity
november two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
runaway boy trapped inside
an empty box
thoughts traveling thousands of
miles per hour
shirtless and friendless and speechless
sights set on any destination
freezing inside on a starless night
small fire burns inside rolling stock
holding out hands
craving another smoke
occasionally peering through slats
at a moon chasing eerie clouds
tumbling headlong through an
unknown countryside
flowers and butterflies and
home-cooked meals
infiltrate dreams inside a train
racing backwards and driverless
november two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
while the queen contemplates how
her patterned walls need
whitewashing
explaining to her entourage
how the perfect splashes of color
and light
would make her world more perfect
the king orders in the
big bombers
turning pristine hills and dales
into a reclamation project
where little lambs wander
aimlessly
shepherdless
and bloody
october two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
in college I drank with the best
of them
the irish and the english
and all their neighbors
spaniards and moroccans and
mesopotamians
eurasians and asians and indians
and native americans
the under-aged and over-aged
the jock and nerd and hipster
women and men and transgenders
you name ‘em
we all got along in the bar
after college I was plunged into
the outside world
where none of it seemed to matter
and I found myself witnessing
people ignoring people of all kinds
pointing fingers and impugning
cursing and kicking and hating
for no good reason
forcing me to question my formative years
wondering if they were nothing more
than an exercise of naiveté
october two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 