aiming his colt forty-five
directly down her neck
[perpendicular to the front of the skull]
the cowboy shot his horse dead
the muscles throughout his body
contracting just like hers
lasting less than 30 seconds
—as if choreographed
the two of them collapsed to the dirt
she as silent as the night
he sobbing uncontrollably
nothing but a shadow of his former self
february two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the girl in the barrio
listened to the radio
every night
keeping the volume
as low as possible
so as not awaken
the others
the music soft
and soothing
as smooth as her skin
glowing from
the shine of the moon
her emotions
ruled by a heart
destined to understand
life outside these walls
february two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’m tired & want to lie down
will you lie down with me
and not say a word
the pace of life must slow
if I am able to go on
it’s not a matter of oxygen
but of imagination
the power to continue
remains out of my control
it used to be easy
to believe in immortality
but tonight the world
proves otherwise
february two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Leave me with some kind of proof it’s not a dream
—Hayley Williams
what is love
but a mesmerizing image
shining from the waters
reaching out
in sound & taste
pulling you deep underneath
where it’s quiet & safe
what is love
but a shadow of a doubt
veiled in the scenery
patiently waiting
a surprise embrace
sweeping you off your feet
& into the unknown
what is love
but a deep-rooted memory
residing in your heart
overly protective
when you are down
rising above the surface
at a moment’s notice
february two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I shall lay bare all my sins
by way of the written word
etched onto paper
recorded in the cloud
available twenty-four seven
long after we’re all gone
while in the present
privacy is of no consequence
brainwaves like tree roots
interconnected & quite alive
conversing in a language
all their own
february two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the night progresses
& rules bend
—how such deals w/the devil
are made
this determination
going on indefinitely
but then the realization
of the price paid
february two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the man on the street
carries a sign reading
the end is near
his hair past his shoulders
his beard twice as long
he is the living & breathing
symbol of the apocalypse
advertising what everyone knows
another mugging gone wrong
another massacre in a makeshift church
another death row inmate executed
by way of lethal injection
all examples actually disproving
what the canvassing prophet believes
february two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we are awful villains
and we know it
—animal instincts
as brutal as any
species on earth
kill and conquer
all along the way
rock & roll blaring
only to enhance
the effectiveness
new genres sprout
generationally
giving a voice
to the those silenced
by inhumane ways
february two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we don’t know what happened
to the son & daughter-in-law
[or their child]
they could be anywhere by now
we’re not sure
about the girlfriend either
for all we know she could be dead
we’ve contacted animal control
numerous times
but it’s become one of those things
—short-term improvements
but a receding memory
somehow the cats in the neighborhood
managed to restore order
[all on their own]
the whereabouts of the main character
suddenly in question
february two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there’s always something going on
it’s what to focus on that matters
imagine missing the focus
you are like a human without a head
there’s something going on inside
your body knows all too well
—but not the brain
your brain is mostly focused
on the day to day
rarely shutting down from
survival mode
feeding on databytes
and microchips
dealing with reality
there’s always something going on
the question remains
how can you possibly discover
[what with all the lint & static]
that which truly matters
february two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
how do you think I feel
she replies
to my ignorance
it was a rhetorical question
I open the refrigerator
pull out a can of beer
from the top shelf
yeah I know I know
I see your daughter
has been painting elephants
yes mostly pink ones
I confirm
there’s an elephant taking a nap
in the next room
turning to the sink
she washes the sharp knife
placing it in the strainer
having walked away
unceremoniously
I make myself
a meatloaf sandwich
february two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
stop looking out the window
what did you expect
it’s still february
the pizza joints were heating up
but you had better ideas
I noticed I aged another year
in about a week
there was nothing that could have
been done about it
having broken
the handheld mirror
you said you could fix me
in one hundred days
naturally I called your bluff
halfway through I was reported
to have been spotted
downtown
uptown
in the mall
at the library
skating on thin ice
reciting poetry at parlor city
all the while you kept flipping cards
a cigarette burning
in the ashtray
the seat across the table
freshly painted blue
& vacant
february two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the perpetual valley
center cut via a thin line
barely meandering
though trickling just fine
cabins are spotted all along the way
I’ve told her it’s too late
for anyone to come back home
let alone her
speculators have become
aplenty lately
and I’m beginning to think
they’re starting to make sense
one day a long long time ago
someone had to have said
this here
this here is the final frontier
little did that someone know
february two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I have crossed the threshold
of the shadow
no longer afraid
of being alone
a stranger is my own house
waking me
by way of a touch
every morning at three fifteen
the walls & ceiling are dark
as I lay there
blinking my eyes quickly
my once uninterrupted dream
continuing in various shades
of black & white
until finally dissolving
by way of a volitional light
outside of the dream
all doors & windows are locked
from the inside
I wander from room to room
occasionally settling
at the bay window facing south
watching the river running
faster than usual
february two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s become difficult to concentrate
on one thing at a time
the multitasking multiverse
inflicting its influence
over unsuspecting minds
what you’re doing here I have no idea
it seems I can’t recall your name
but if you give me a hint or two
maybe I’ll shout it out
before you leave
they say I’ve been stuck inside
these four walls
for years on end
but all I can remember
is dirty rain falling
outside these dirty windows
an unexpected light
occasionally producing
a dingy looking rainbow
february two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the poem will write itself
there is no need to worry
you just have to free the mind
from whatever heaviness
falsely resides inside
a simple flashing light
whether external or otherwise
can change the future
an apple of unusual delight
wobbling atop a table
if you find yourself
sailing in the multiverse
like some sort of angel child
be sure to rack up the points
on the nebula galilee
february two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 