man’s inventions
handed down by the gods
original sin having nothing to do
with mother nature
as a child seems to make sense
but when facing danger
is meaningless
I submit to the reality of the day
the eventual decline of
natural resources
exploited & consumed voraciously
in order to selfishly live out
your remaining days
inside a brand new world
march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
not too deep beneath the surface
I am being called to action
a map left on a coffee table
the airport an hour away
there is a great distance between
today & buried treasure
subconsciously stumbled upon
while whistling with the wind
if you ever see me again
likely I’ll be unrecognizable
perhaps a little younger
more than likely more sensible
march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I repeat myself
at the risk of sounding old
like the toy dinosaur
stuffed inside the davenport
left there as a surprise
by the mischievous one
the one who tells me
this one is a carnivore
that one an herbivore
in the grander scale of things
they’ve not been gone
that long
some coming back to life
in living rooms
backyards & museums
the silver screen
some discovered on
castaway islands
I repeat myself
at the risk of sounding old
— what did you say
we couldn’t hear you —
they plead to be told a story
the one when you were a little girl
and the earth herself
was the size
of a silver blue jewel
march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Best to become invisible
in times like these.
Everybody knows that.
― Jason Reynolds, Long Way Down
my numbness is not
comfortable at all
it is a nondescript void
like a beautiful landscape
hidden by an expanding fog
spreading north & south
and east & west
its deafening denseness
placing a stranglehold
on coherent thought
a lingering listlessness
tearing the world apart
march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’d told them to take it away
that I didn’t want to see it anymore
and so they did
after a while I told them to take
the other thing away
and so they did
I was getting good at giving orders
surprised they so easily
obeyed my commands
soon it was one thing after another
and at a certain point
I’d told them I was tired
and they quietly withdrew from my sight
in the morning the birds did not sing
and the sun did not usher in the dawn
I turned on the light
and looked around the room
none of the things
that I had ordered away the night before
were actually gone
I had commanded only to myself
march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’ve lost sight of the end game
due to reasons beyond my control
if you could see what I see
it would be death & destruction
cast upon the many by the hands of a few
it’s as if a monster tornado
has ripped through sleepy little towns
leaving them leveled & burning
for days on end
forget the nuclear tactical weapons
conveyed from one place to the next
they’ve not the power to take my sight
even though I can see no more
with my very own eyes
march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the lost
& the forgotten
blinded by the wind
never to return again
repeating the pilgrimage
in the back of my mind
the night
turns into silence
the scattering clouds
revealing new satellites
blinking like a rising star
signaling the next move
march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the road to nowhere
is paved in dirt with gravel shoulders
— it is as good as any to get someplace
you’ve never been
there is no vegetation nor water
along the way
and since you don’t know how far
the road to nowhere goes
it’s best to be prepared
do not whistle along the way
it’ll only make you thirstier
and surely do not sing
for it is unclear what dangers
you may attract
walk as fast as you can
but do not run
lest the eyes looking down at you
may sense that you are fearful
and as vulnerable as all the others
march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I keep going back in time
destroying what is already gone
fruitless endeavors
involving radioactive matter
nearly always
ending up in the same place
the mind & body
seek their own independence
one of them knowing
of the eventual fail
the other looking forward
to the next dimension
what’s next remains indefinable
but is as certain as the
capital’s destruction
leveled in the year of the rat
only to rise again after
one hundred million deaths
march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
what shade of red shall we paint the town
barn or cherry or crimson or rally
it matters not
not as long as we’re out of the house
do you remember how we’d paint the sky
the rainbow’s spectrum our palette
— robin egg blue my favorite
purple haze yours
the canary the daffodil the sun itself
none of them cowardly
fresh & bright as a cloudless day
brave & daring like dapper dan
without the moon the night is pitch black
an off-white candle or flashlight
simple replacements
once the power inevitably goes out
march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
dusk arrives unannounced
followed by cat calls & bird songs
filtering in thru the cracked window
had I not destroyed myself
just before the dawn
did not the moon inform me
you’re finished once & for all
my vision blurred & my voice raspy
the blood in my veins
still flowing freely
I find myself back to life
back to my somewhat former self
at the window I peer past the shade
— there appears the moon
nothing like I remembered
deaf & dumb & barely visible
painted the dullest gray
talk now I say
tell me about this immortality
you had promised
made possible you said
by the hangman’s noose
the very one inside this room
at the foot of the bed
march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
faded memories reappear
a wallpaper kind of past
filled with delicate intricacies
and screaming images
she emerges to the forefront
in unexpected ways
first as a lasting impression
in an otherwise forgetful dream
— next as a hologram
projected from the ceiling
miming I will always love you
before dissolving into nothingness
these are the beginnings
of a day filled with fits & starts
a reminder that I shall never forget
even after my final breath
march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
deal me in
it’s simply a matter
of time
before starting
to win again
nearly overnight
all the colorful ties
turned into a quilt
as far as my
recollection is concerned
none of them are mine
I’ve not received
a single dime
out of nowhere
suddenly
rapidly
donations arrive
it’s as if people
stopped caring so much
about themselves
march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the rhythm of the day varies
as does the week
month & year
there is no status quo
only forward motion
often directionless
— the trick is finding
the one ride
guaranteed
to blow your mind
march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
having too much knowledge
sometimes you need to
stuff some in a sack
in a sack stuffed inside
a cupboard
a pantry
a closet or a freezer
downtown the panhandlers
say mister mister
can you spare a sack
while the pickpockets
simply take what they may
in hemingway’s novella
the old man took a lifetime of sacks
out to sea
but that didn’t end up well
— or did it
is knowledge ever expanding
like the universe
or is it finite like an odorless gas
contained inside a sack
march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I don’t know much about global modernism
it seems to me like most of us are subsisting
day by day in many different worlds
anywhere on the planet you’ll find societies
living before & during & after biblical times
some hidden deep inside rain forests
others digging for safety below the surface
or propelling themselves out into outer space
march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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