I stroll into the kitchen
to mix another drink
and as I return I realize
this one is no more
important than the
previous ones
and that they all contribute
cumulatively to my
intoxicating creativity
september two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
when I was a little girl she said
I sang in the children’s choir
and everybody loved us
we smiled and tried to imagine
how nana could ever have been
a little girl singing in church
like a magician she pulled psalms
out of her throat and lifted them
high into the glorious air
angels appeared playing flutes
and trumpets and approving the
perfection that was her voice
september two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
There’s a wall without slashes of social unrest,
without lines of prejudice, modesty or complaints
not even a good thought
clean and quick to the point
might make others laugh, angry or uneasy.
It makes me uneasy to see such a wall
anywhere within a public stall
upon a school desk or through walk tunnels.
To see such a wall of inhibition
of emptiness
of conservative thinking
like not sharing thoughts, ideas or secrets
makes me wonder
when the liberators will return
to save the free walls in this free land
from backwardness
from idleness
of single bawdy colors covering progress.
nineteen eighty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
planes overhead
fly day and night
going on forever
kneeling with daughter
elbows on bed
one candle casts a light
equipped to the hilt
martyrs and saints
march into the desert
daughter falls asleep
dreams of war drums
advancing up the street
escape routes collapse
from the dead air
I take her hand and run
september two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
when the two humans arrived
I knew there would be trouble
the pigman who carried
death sentences
on twelve systems
was just dying to pick a fight
once the pigman’s
wanking arm lay alone
on the floor of the bar
the music resumed
and we all just looked away
and carried on
about our business
september two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
billions of stars
drawing a map
across time
adrift in an
endless quest for
intelligent life
setting suns
give birth
to new moons
new life spawns
deep inside
planetary waters
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
call off your eagles
nesting in my trees
they belong back home
protecting your streets
those sharks in the sea
circling near the coast
free them from their wrath
far away from my church
the seven nation army
breathing down my neck
marches on with dignity
only few understand
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
shifting down to high speed
he pushes the pedals
down down down
feeling the tension inside
thighs and calves and IT bands
grimacing and racing
approaching the rail yard
the freight train slows to a crawl
the conductor waving
outside the window
the biker stretching out one hand
high into the air
yelling
thank you thank you thank you
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
what’s your favorite song
I asked her
as we sat atop the bluff
overlooking the mississippi river
the white sails below looking like
a paint-by-number watercolor
she took a sip of her arnie palmer
and lowered her sunglasses
exposing sinister eyes
straight into mine
then pushed them back
and returned to her sunbathing
what was that look for
I asked her
picking up a rock and rubbing it
with my thumb and fingers
you know what my favorite song is
you silly man
she whispered above the happy birds
why don’t you go ahead
and sing it for me
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she wore them only
on special occasions
and every time I saw them
I just wanted to slip them off her feet
and take her upstairs
but alas that was just a wish
and we paraded into town
high heels and all
the center of attention
every place we ventured
wickedly well rested
we danced into the night
tearing down disco walls
and cutting beale street rugs
deep inside memphis
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
they worked conspiracy hill
like well programmed robots
carrying handheld devices
and tagging certain grids
with various colored flags
teleporting data
back to mother
the hill had taken a pounding
from the cosmic bullets
raining from above
vaporizing the rebel forces
and forever altering the
surrounding mineral
composition
they had flattened this hill
before and fully intend
to mine it again
transporting the riches
through the ancient routes
terminating far inside
orion’s belt
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the bird in the stream
loves to scream at midnight
when deep in her sleep
she dreams of elegant legs
to-die-for tail feathers
and a graceful neckline
no longer interested in
fly-by-night playboys
she catches her limit
before the rooster’s crow
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she sits by the fire
surrounded by limestone
and dying wildflowers
holding herself in her arms
her eyes smiling at the dancing flames
of yesterday’s summer sun
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we walked along the boulevard
hand in hand
as if newly in love
enjoying the sunshine
and freshly cut grass
it seemed we were alone
in the universe
and all eyes stopped and stared
jealous of the way
we walked upon the air
as we faded into the dying sun
everyone noticed
how brightly we shined
once upon a time
when the world was young
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I was in the garage fixing the radio
when charlie came in
cigarette and beer in hand
wearing wrangler blue jeans
and a sleeveless tee
what in the hell are you doing neighbor
he asked
I told him I was fixing the radio
(the one with the reddish-orange digital display
that usually hangs underneath the kitchen cabinet
the kind you have to use a pen or pencil
to advance the time of day)
he took a peek at me soldering the
red wire to the circuit board
was careful to blow his smoke
out toward the street
as I screwed the cover back on
he asked what in the hell I needed a
radio for this day and age
you know with the internet and pandora
or some such shit
to listen to the dead but of course
is how I answered
and I picked up my radio and excused myself
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the stream imagines
whatever lies inside the mind
projects audial nuances
favorable to the heart and soul
the stream has babbled on
since before babylonia was born
before the seeds of creation
transfigured into the living garden
the stream provides sustenance
and everlasting grace
offering those who worship her
glimpses of alpha and omega
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 