amid dark winter nights
I lay out glorious plans
to conquer the seed
the wind and the rain
the whiteness of the world
inspires me to envision
perfect days where irises
bloom under moonlight
sacred revolutions seem
as remote as paradise
testing my patience
from far away places
january two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we went underground with new people
the ones we always wanted
to hang with
but never configured coordinates
exactly right
smuggling firearms and ammunition
inside gift-wrapped packages
we took off
on one-way interstellar flights
prospecting peace
a new revolution bravely speaks
against centuries of hate
taking off
with old ideas in real-time practice
to change the world
january two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
inside the ant farm fat-bottomed
shoppers coast on motorized carts
clogging the produce section and
regurgitating freshly stocked veggies
an accident in bakery sends signals
to emergency crews who remove
themselves from feeding the powerless
to harvesting the tiniest of crumbs
cleanup on aisle nine sends her majesty
screaming to her many abigails who
busily stitch her tattered wings
in hopes of swarming another day
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we prepared our minds with
foolproof lies and
carried on about our lives
as if darkness never
overshadowed anything
what was once reinvented
can be invented yet again
and those monsters
lurking behind old photographs
remain buried alive
unsuspecting memories
hang in undisclosed caverns
like misplaced dreams
tapping your shoulder
night after tireless night
without thinking we pushed
onward through the air
like a refreshing wind
blowing away the morning fog
that once weighed us down
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
The King and I sat in a barber shop
on the Las Vegas strip
swapping oft-told stories
and questioning the reasonings
behind failed empires
He explained how his realm reaches
far outside the lines of Clark County
where one-armed bandits
pay homage to sinners
and tax collectors
He spoke with quiet authority
on the decline of principles
and goodwill toward men
using literary devices
to illustrate his finer points
With the sun soon to vanish
in the cool desert air
He tucked his hair up under his hat
and led his sandaled entourage
down the boulevard
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
butterflies are nothing but
welcomed distractions in a
hurry-up-world
long after the youth of careless
rebellion becomes
netted in routine
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we worked the wet sand
into old world castles
restarting aqueducts and
protecting the bridge with
toy soldiers
overnight tides washed
away recent memory
giving way to daybreak
and the innocence of
virgin beaches
starting from scratch
we sawed and
sanded and hammered away
convincing ourselves
things will be different
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
when they wired this one
there was no ground
it was either lights on
or lights out
she told me if I wanted
to wait another week
she was expecting
a new delivery
shaking my head
I explained how I needed
to move on after
losing Rosie last month
buckling her replacement
into my hatchback
I hoped to regain
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
You kept me boxed in you did
With your rules
About long hair and piercings
Telling me what can be visible
And what can’t
With tats and other stuff
I can’t imagine you expect
Such conformity
This day and age
At a time when I should print
Anything I like on Twitter
And not be badly judged
I know you expect endless creativity
In a five seven five set
But you’ll have to forgive me
For stepping out of bounds
Every now and then
With three irregular verses
october two thousand eleven
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
buried far beneath the earth
in the garden of good and evil
lies dormant the key
to man’s heart
the seedling had failed
to germinate
while the tree of knowledge flourished
thereby leaving man
selfishly singular
it’s been said treasure can be found
somewhere in the cradle of civilization
its hidden secrets
more powerful than the words
of all the enlightened masters
who left this world
dreaming of lasting peace
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
you rarely recall that night
you should have died
yet every time it surfaces
you completely understand
how kissing the world goodbye
is as simple as
landing on your feet
you imagine you were born
a feline with siamese blood
running through your veins
a cool cat who’s been
around the block six or seven
or eight times
but certainly not nine
crouched behind a waning moon
you patiently wait for hope to rise
above the horizon
feeding your mind with
enlightenment
giving you courage to carry on
yet another day
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
they locked down the schools
and called on the bloodhounds
from three counties away
human chains stretched across
the countryside carrying
torches and kicking stones
holding hands they waded into
cedar lake until they could
no longer breathe
throughout the city church lights
enlivened stain glass windows
well into the wee hours of the night
in the morning there was still no news
not counting the posse that
galloped out of town at daybreak
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
those stars we used to wish upon
the ones first appearing in the twilight
or the ones falling from the
sky while sitting on the front porch step
where have they gone
now when you need them the most
sometimes I think of a certain star
that shined so bright it had no choice
but to crash and burn in some
remote forest you’ve never heard
those are the kinds of stars I miss the most
this universe is nothing but a free verse
poem with a little sizzle and endless syllables
spherically rotating around your ever
expanding mind
your inner child
charting the course of events
of every single moving object
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I awoke violently
as if someone had grabbed my
shoulders and shook me
with all their might
Gasping for breath
as if dying or coming to life
I recall striving to push my imagination
from beneath the surface
out-chasing the nightmare
that is the unborn
Within the darkness
I hushed myself back to sleep
pretending nothing
ever happened to the sun
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I walk down the steps into an open
foyer with the lights on
the morning sun sprays itself into the
house from everywhere
I walk across the wooden floor
sabotaged by kitty toys
and broken promises
I open the refrigerator door
for more artificial light
and orange juice concentrate
things are starting to come back to me now
I say to myself
audibly clearer than a whisper
I wonder out loud
what lies in the next room
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
wounded ant repairs himself
sends himself back into the fray
where he nary has time for loose chit-chat
nor counterproductive influences
there is no home sweet home
just a constant moving forward
last twenty-four hours exposing a dying light
in an ever-changing horizon
punching holes through earth
and wood often lead to nowhere
but when consumed by a billion megabytes
may uncover lasting paradise
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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