jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

22 Sep 2015
12 Comments

say you’ll haunt me


inside this cage I hear you sing
your personal psalms
songs of woe and joy
and everything in between

during your darkest moments
supernovas shine high above

though not in your line of sight
they keep you off guard and hopeful

your face is patterned
vertical lines channeling emotions
streaming from your eyes

out in the yard shadows cast
familiar symmetrical smiles

some nights you are unprepared
to fall asleep in my arms

one day a miracle will open the door
leaving you with new ideas
either spiraling yourself far away
or forever haunting my days


september two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
20 Sep 2015
6 Comments

losing a whole year


while staying on the down low
I kept an ear to the ground
and an eye to the sky
surmising how many hours
would pass before the start
of the next armed conflict

after giving up on solving
the odds for world peace
I moved on to other worldly problems
proposing solutions with a
little help from friends
living inside my head

while good-meaning people
feared I had been brainwashed
by some religious cult
I’ll be damned if it was me
walking in the shadows these past
three hundred sixty-five days


september two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
18 Sep 2015
7 Comments

beyond twenty questions


there’s nothing in the past
worth dwelling upon
(at least none that I can remember)
and while the future may be clouded
by chances of earthquakes and tornadoes
I can only hope those ancient westerly winds
will soon bring a serenity
as lovely as la niña

once my fuzzy thoughts gave way
to clearer skies
all the little ones rushed out of
the bushes in a swarm
surrounding my sandaled feet as I
continued to walk through the wet grass
their curious minds abuzz
pleading for me to teach them more about
magic carpet rides and flying saucers

I told them digging deeper into the ground
is simply preposterous
instructing them instead to set their sights
light years beyond the stratosphere
where the sun can never hide
and life is like a dream


september two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , , ,
13 Sep 2015
4 Comments

a light never before seen


lonely preacher on street corner
gathers in unseen souls
wayward and without homes
wandering this earth in silence

they are drawn to his words
spoken plainly and unhesitatingly
giving them reason to break free
from their apocalyptic spells

come one come all and
join the parade he whispers
take my hand and follow me
into the light
a light never before seen
and destined to mend
your broken spirits


september two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Poetry and tagged , ,
11 Sep 2015
14 Comments

running inside and out of poverty


the finish line is barely visible
a thin papered strip of memories
held in place by bookend angels
with nothing but time to burn

sometimes the light is further
than what side view mirrors can see
other times up front and flashing
like an ambulance called on the scene
its influence fading inside a
tunnel of diminishing returns
where mind and body separate
if only for a moment in time

innocent lives cast inside
neighborhoods mostly off limits
practice running and gunning
and killing lights that
one day were once inspiring


september two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
08 Sep 2015
2 Comments

moving day all over again


we were sitting on the balcony
sipping tea and pretending to be happy
while down below piles of possessions
systematically moved from outside the
house and into a rented step van

who’s the guy with the tattoo sleeve I ask

oh that’s Billy she says
he tends bar and does stand-up

right I say without looking up
loving one instagram after the next

refreshing our glasses I wondered if she
had remembered to pack those
forgotten memories
or did she purposely leave them behind
perhaps inside a weightless shoebox
stashed high upon a shelf
or wrapped inside a linen cloth
hidden below a wooden floor board



september two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
06 Sep 2015

coming out of ground


inside old boxes embers glow
building roses out of ashes
and lightning strikes

crashing cymbals introduce
a new species of climbers
busily hurrying to reach the sky
zeroing in on unknown territory

you wish to go with them
but as a mere mortal
all you can do is wave
and blow kisses
praying and hoping
they’ll find their way home



september two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Aliens, Nature, Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
02 Sep 2015
7 Comments

long road to anywhere


their land they own no more
their homes ransacked and sold
to men with prisoners as wives

nearby fields of wildflowers
once stretching to meet the sun halfway
but now scorched and smoldering
harbor pieces of unspeakable crimes

the instinct of flight is all that
remains inside human spirits

no longer questioning nor conjecturing
and certainly no longer imagining
they put up unfathomable fronts
instinctively embarking on a
journey to anywhere
fueled by fumes of the innocent



september two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , ,
31 Aug 2015
7 Comments

already gone


wooden step stool
cloaked inside walk-in closet
readily accessible
whenever needing to
put myself up on a shelf

sometimes it’s best
to stay up there for
extended periods of time
like a bird on a wire
or an angel biding time

sometimes it’s safest
to never come down
even when reality prohibits
such ambitions from ever
finding common ground




august two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged ,
30 Aug 2015
2 Comments

defenseless moon rising


mathematics of heaven
on earth measure up
like the clickety-clack of
wingtip boots hitting
hot summer concrete
on the brightest of days

seven plus one rounds
normally fill a colt 45
its pearl handle concealed
inside the hip of urban
cowboy moving about
in conspicuous silence

waxing gibbous expose
skyscrapers without power
eluding bullets fired
from restless streets that
harbor outlaw scientists
who recalculate and reload




august two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , ,
29 Aug 2015
2 Comments

Once upon a carnival


by Pleasant Street & J Matthew Waters

Shopping for groceries
I turn a corner near the eggs
A feather, buoyant before my eyes
Dancing in the air so I can not reach
The sound of a brass band in produce
A smile on my face for past times

Out in the parking lot
Lost thoughts become louder
Parading with yesterday’s revelries
Like souls without a care
Preventing me from finding my car
Blended amongst all the noise

The carnival days are missed
Black leather on crushed red velvet
Deep glasses of confidence
Unconcerned with consequence
Nights of ambition
Behind masks ’til the wine ran dry

How my mind wanders
Wondering where in the world
We will ever meet
And relive the magic that once
Existed in a special place
Full of color and sound

Succulent nights – joy in our fists
Carefree, somnolent days
Everything glittered
Though nothing was gold
I knew your touch
As well as my name

Passion and danger
We were never strangers to either
Japanese lanterns on fire above us
Below us thin air we danced upon
Like in a fairy tale
That never seemed to end



august two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
27 Aug 2015

carry on my wayward son


how is the road less traveled
any better than city streets
teeming with possibilities

or so it seems you have gone
in every direction
sometimes at the same time
drunk on wine
and sated from pork and dark
chocolate over the course
of years to come

tiptoeing on the fringes
communication becomes intermittent
incoming messages
noisily unclear
easily dismissed by the flip of a switch

though forward movements
often travel in opposite directions
there is no denying the final
destination will repeat itself




august two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , | Leave a comment
23 Aug 2015
6 Comments

let the weekend begin


everyone I know is getting older
and some are even dying without
a moment’s notice
never getting a chance to say
good-bye
good-bye
good-bye sweet world

in the grocery store I ran into Joe
and asked him how his wife was doing

she’s gone man where have you been

I’m sorry I say and walk away

out in the parking lot everyone is
a ghost of their former selves
systematically going about their lives
running out of bright ideas
to reverse the inevitable

but not me I am perfectly fine
no wrinkles on my face
a rosy glow still on my cheeks

I tell myself this is the last time
I’m going shopping here
and I rev up the engine and
drive my case of american pale ale
back home where we belong




august two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , ,
21 Aug 2015
6 Comments

into the great wide open


a box on the side of the road
not a box really but a folder
a small folder at that
the kind with a rubber strap
wrapped around to keep the flap shut
ensuring that whatever would be inside
could not easily be outside

it was just sitting there on the
graveled shoulder of highway 13
and somehow I had spotted it
driving some sixty miles per hour
its image now just a snapshot
first and foremost in my mind

traffic was light but each time
someone drove by I imagined
the lunchbox-sized folder
fluttered from each sixty mile per hour draft
the rubber strap gradually shifting
loosening and eventually opening
exposing what was once concealed
launching the contents up and out
into the great wide open



august two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , ,
18 Aug 2015
2 Comments

Lemonade Stand


Outside Damascus on a Sunday
morning small hands press
ripened lemons recently
arrived from Istanbul

Years earlier there would be
no need for imports
and those lemonade stands
operated by the most beautiful
children of the world
exist only in memory




august two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , , , ,
16 Aug 2015
3 Comments

promising young stars


he was seriously injured on the playing field
aired on prime-time television last night
the announcer commenting how
the promising young man may
never suit up again

if only those innocent children worldwide
could be so lucky
those massacred by rockets or knives
or handguns or anything else heartless
cowards can get their bloody hands on




august two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,

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