jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

circa seventeen seventy-six


there is hammering on the rooftops
in the not so distant past
fading from the west
echoing in a rhythmic pattern
like an ode on a grecian urn

autumn appears on the horizon
& hell not far behind
communications
arriving from all directions
be it by wind or bird or plane

I’ve yet decided what century
I shall waste the next
thirteen hundred dreams
lost in the city of brotherly love
pretending to be mere mortal





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

surviving the night


dating with time
the forever young man
dances with the ancient princess
gray-haired & lithe

the night could not
possibly last forever
or so she whispers in his ear
seducing a smile

but of course he has
countless memories
having survived the rise & fall
of many an empire





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

finding water on the moon


the world is on edge
or has it always been
& I’m just starting to notice

what year have you got
I got a quarter past apocalypse

somehow I managed
to maintain all of my limbs
drifting along with the walking dead
talking to angels who once had wings

word has it major prophets
are being born this year
destined to redefine mother earth
[& her satellite]
twenty-some years from now





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

Eureka


Slow things down my friend
before you burn out before
the morning light

Experiments are taking place
in the least expected places
kitchens & garages & wineries
roadside parks & inground pools

Secret recipes pass
by way of blood or bribery
the open market buying & selling
the sweeter the better

Burning the midnight oil
most often backfires
but when it doesn’t
oh but when it doesn’t





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

nothing else matters


be careful baby your wishes
tend to be dangerous
now that you find yourself
far from the shelf you once held
your most precious secrets

from start to finish you’ve
always been your own girl
your own soulful voice
teaching me to sing
as you lay yourself to sleep





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

it’s no big thing


that card she flipped
has got to be good karma
no matter how you look at it

it’s that time of year
the garden stretches itself
inviting unwelcome guests
when nobody is watching

she brings in more forces
earthly or otherwise
amassing swords at the border
repeating a pluperfect past

somehow the inevitable meltdown
becomes nothing
but a nonevent
leaving you with a bogey in hand
and a joker to your right





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

caught in a web of lies


what you wouldn’t give to be
someone else
how does it work that way
the heart & brain
at odds with each other
daily deciphering conflicts of interest
by way of the past

oh yes the past is a problem
but you cannot pick your ancestors
no matter what terrible
things they did to whole
groups of people
to dwell there is living there
with no correction in sight

you want to believe you’re
the misunderstood victim
but it doesn’t work that way
not when you’re the aggressor
dishing out hatred
by way of blind ignorance
born into a world without resolve





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

like a tulip or a monarch


skyscrapers rise & fall
no thanks to mere mortals
able to destroy that which they build
like a flawed god
constantly seeking attention

the gradual unfolding of a field
exposing all that is real
be it friend or flora or foe
young & old bones alike
buried so far below

bricks build these roads
one on top of another
a city layered in storied centuries
living & dying & born again
like a tulip or a monarch





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

answering the false call


sirens sounded
the crows & ravens took off from their stations
carrying messages of survival in their dna

one arrived on my fence post
half a day after the warning
sturdy & stoic & talking in a language
only I would understand

of course he arrived prematurely
this much he knew
for the skies became more colorful
allowing me to admire the varying
degrees of darkness in his wings

within the hour he departed on his
own accord
probably to where the water was rising
leaving me to my one device
and my mixed emotions





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

outside afghanistan


it’s not explainable
be it fish or fowl
or alien invasion
so many miles
from the shoreline

out on the lake
I saw it unfolding
in slow motion
like a weather event
swiftly moving in

how none of the
witnesses rememberedOUT
a thing is baffling
leaving me on the inside
refusing to look out

from what I hear
I’ve made the short list
but now I’m absent
far removed from the sea
& probably landlocked





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

stoning at six forty-five


the energy is real but does
not transcend time
instead you are left suspended
like a lone cirrus cloud


back down to earth
you accept the challenge
seven shots of tequila
all lined up in a pretty row

to be stoned to near death
in this day & age
has become as common
as the common cold
whether voluntarily
or otherwise





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

reverse psychology


I’m not interested in your ideology
it’s much too mainstream for me


did I tell you what I did last week
how I lost my sight
only to fully recover by way
of a miracle

you keep talking about revolutions
but all I care about
is peace of mind
the kind you find accidentally
on purpose

in the meantime you keep
losing me in the fringes
that place in your mind I still
refuse to go to




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

The Accident


There are no conclusions
only a somewhat consistent restarting
of forward motion


When you die you may hop aboard
The Accident
commuter train filled beyond capacity
traveling ten times the speed
of her nearest competitor

Anyone lucky enough to step inside
will never want to leave
and those who accidentally get thrown
will mysteriously become a failed
star or a forever satellite





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

the queen’s gambit


you know this much about me
this space between my thumb & forefinger
not quite touching


I tell you to trace your finger
down the scar along my right carotid
but you want nothing to do with it
telling me it scares you

there is no middle ground to be had
as if you speak in one language
and me in my very own

with a pencil I scratch out some words
ones I’m sure you’ll understand

I lift the paper up to my chin
but you turn away your pretty
but foreign face
telling me without talking
I am right about not knowing





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

dusting off the cobwebs


playing the piano for no good reason
nobody around & the light just right

it’s not quite like riding a bike
the fingers & the brain
without any practice
it’s much too easy to lose one’s way

no decisions are needed at this time
no buys or sells
no excuses necessary for
sleeping in or extending happy hour
no tit for tat
or exchanging this for that

retreating from the spinet
there’s a slight sadness in the air
a silver & red harmonica
appearing out of the shadows
showing off her dusty wings





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

on getting to the other side


I came to the negotiating table
with half a chip
& was forced to play my hand

I had nothing to offer
but much to my surprise
soon realized that was my strength

it’s funny how your friends
call you a fool & your enemies
look at you like you’re a tree
or a big rock
or a one-way ticket to ride

there is a boat on the other
side of the river
one that will take you to the nearest ship
and all it takes to reach it
is one more microchip





august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Post Navigation