jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

20 Sep 2022
2 Comments

the wandering marionette


expectations continue to dwindle exponentially
and then the sun rises again

what are we doing except exhuming bodies
as if they were black birds
murdered en masse only 10 days ago

people are coming & going
on conveyor belts
some of them alive & some still dying
the workers & the robots
having no idea
where they’re coming from

the shifts are ‘round the clock
nobody is disgruntled because they’re taught
[in their developmental stage]
there is nothing to be disgruntled about
and so while they go about their routines
occasionally someone will ask
why hasn’t time converted to the metric system

everything is constructed & destroyed here
except for the living & the dying
          the baby girl in the trash bin
                    the nomad in the desert
a businessman on a twenty-story ledge
overcome by the promise of eternity
—everything just as it should be
like the wandering marionette
disoriented & obsolete
with nary a stage to perform upon





september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
19 Sep 2022

missing in action


there’s nothing to see here
everybody move along

when authority figures
tell people to move along
chances are
there is plenty to see

the shooting took place
mid-morning
and by lunch time
two dwellings & three
vehicles were taped off

there was plenty of talk
but not much action
& those with pics or vids
on their person
most likely kept them
close to the vest





september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
18 Sep 2022

revisiting the past


I can’t expect to pretend
anymore the writing
is on the wall
—the writing wall
revealing all that is real
& what is false
standing before it
I am there among thousands
reading & nodding
rereading & shaking my head

the crowds come & go
like swarms of locusts
taking me off my feet
carrying me to the next exhibit
maybe another wall
or a grotto or a cavern
speaking to me
this time via images & symbols
that I have likely
seen before





september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
17 Sep 2022

in the aftermath


who is to say
that this is it
the end has finally
arrived
and there you stand
a witness to it all

who is to say
tomorrow
is nothing like it
used to be
golden rays
replaced to no end

who is to say
all the records
accumulated inside
will never be restored
or rebroadcasted
into the void





september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
16 Sep 2022

doctor strangelove


there is a strange frequency in the air
and the traffic is lighter than usual
[nearly nonexistent actually]
it’s as though the small & bright city
has become a ghost town

pick a year any year and you will
find how nothing has changed
how ghost towns have become
overtaken by nature in seventy-five
or one hundred years’ time

of all the cold wars taken place
this one is the most chilling
women & children sacrificed
by the hundreds of thousands
the men mysteriously evaporated





september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , | Leave a comment
15 Sep 2022

they sent her son to mars


it’s a self fulfilling story
or so the prophets say
the prince’s son
sent to the planet mars
to settle a dispute

a mission doomed
from the very start
the prince’s son
murdered en route
via his majesty’s consort

empires come & go
but this breakaway ploy
by the prince’s son
likely opens the door
to the next millennium





september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
14 Sep 2022

A Peanut Farmer in Iowa City


I’m going by memory
so my facts may be a little fuzzy
but it was the early eighties
and I was in line
at Hamburg Inn No. 2

Supposedly Jimmy Carter
was a few spots ahead of me
or so the young lady I was with pointed out
me promptly responding
with something like shut the fuck up

Like I say I’m going by memory here
but I’m pretty sure both Jimmy
and I ordered a double swiss &
a small fry

(I don’t remember what drinks
they offered
but if they had beer on tap
that was probably it)

There’s no way you could eat
inside the smallish & popular place
most of the booths & seats & stools
nearly always taken
a minority of which
by ghosts of politicians past

As we headed back downtown
—lunching while we walked—
I kept asking what’s her name
if she was absolutely sure





september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
13 Sep 2022

the proposition


just give it time she said
and walked away
[never to be seen]
perhaps a paradox
I remember thinking
but gave no vocal response

ever since I’ve crossed the desert
sailed & flew & climbed
finding a few solitary places
—for there is no place
to be but alone
when silently
agreeing to give it time





september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , | Leave a comment
12 Sep 2022
2 Comments

the curse of the autumn rose


it sits there mostly indisposed
the patience that is death
awaits us without detection
carries on like a muted songbird

in the endless dream
death is nothing to be feared
the ancient moon cycling peripherally
offering to keep you near

nothing is left behind
for death is indiscriminate
& those who mourn
shall always be mourned
& they who stay forever cursed





september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, Nature, Poetry and tagged ,
11 Sep 2022
5 Comments

the spirit guide


you’ve lost yourself again
in the deepness of the woods
where the mind is incapable
of producing concrete thoughts
or having any kind of convictions
overtaken by an energy unseen
and guided by a spirit
that had anticipated your arrival




september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Micropoetry, Nature, Poetry and tagged , ,
10 Sep 2022

The Absence


There is an absence that is indefinable
as if the ghost dog who once roamed freely
throughout the house had suddenly departed

It was the cat who first noticed the absence
bringing it to my attention by way of behaviors
that were secondary to her nature
entering my dreams unconventionally
revealing other lives I once lived

In the morning I stand in the shower
warm water washing away dirt & blood &
anything strangely unsettled or emotionless

Going through the motions is an expression
best left for those who have given up
no longer searching & thereby incapable of
finding the smallest of things that had been lost





september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Animals, Dreams, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
09 Sep 2022

the body snatchers


the neighborhood
was littered with feral cats
black & white
blue & yellow & green
and every other shade
in between
the majority of them
food stamp carriers
all the others hiding
in the shadows
keeping the rodent population
under control
all the while steering clear
of the recently formed
fleet of drones
locally & affectionately known
as the catnappers





september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Animals, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
08 Sep 2022
5 Comments

we are exiles


how proud the sun must be
giving life incredulity
inside her own little galaxy

as a member of her third family
she gave me life & took it away
repetitiously

to the point where I was
unmistakably incapable of
learning from past transgressions

and so without fanfare
she banished me from her realm
sent me sailing into interstellar space
hopeful one day another star
would pull me in





september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
07 Sep 2022

on the spirit level


they say it’s not fair
and they’re not wrong
having been in & out
of positions of interest
such as exaltation
neutrality &
documented misery

it has nothing to do
with the failure of democracy
but rather the ignorance
of the many
and the stupidity of the few
—handed down to the latter
by way of failed ideals

never mind that the gaiety
of the past pertained
to a privileged few
who somehow managed
to make-believe
it belonged to the masses
—only to be crushed by them
on the spirit level





september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
06 Sep 2022
2 Comments

wet dream


don’t call us they kept repeating
in my dream
actually they were singing it
don’t call us baby
we’ll call you

it was as if wolfman jack
had somehow gotten in
shadowing me like a wild thing

running at full speed
every chance I could get
only the corners could slow me down
inside this inner city jungle

hailstorms preceded
intensely global temperatures
leaving everyone soaked to the bone
wondering what kind of animal
they had become





september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, In the City, Poetry and tagged ,
05 Sep 2022
2 Comments

in this post-apocalyptic world


I thought it was monday
but it was sunday again
as if six days went missing
blown away by nuclear winds

the world news at nine
didn’t tell me anything
I didn’t already know
living on a wing & a prayer
in this post-apocalyptic world

the great migration
has only just begun
how many sundays may pass
before I must move on





september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry, War Poems and tagged , ,

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