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poetry by j matthew waters

03 Feb 2021

bullets ripping through space


I’ve been called to see
in six dimensions
by who exactly
remains a mystery
for all I know could be jesus
or satan or mister john lennon

as bukowski would say
I was born into this
sorting out observations
percolating in the background
where so few of us
can or cannot see

dead or alive beware
the mockingbird
elvis or caesar once said
and steer clear of
heavily armed angels
guarding the perimeters




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

Posted in Dogma, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
02 Feb 2021

watching the network news at the starlight


I keep saying to myself
there are too many people living
[and dying] on this planet
and if recently played out events
are any indication
I say I may be onto something

for some reason I keep thinking
about the word ‘sustainable’
exactly what it’s supposed to mean
to the likes of people like me
doing their damnedest
just to survive

you were supposed to meet me
at the starlight at 5 pm
but now it’s going on seven
and I’m nursing my final final
working up the strength
to start walking back home




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

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
01 Feb 2021
6 Comments

a tale of two histories


much of what I learned
so many years ago
has become a shadow of
my everyday reality

let’s get a little closer
and I’ll show you
my physical scars
and you can tell me
about your emotional ones

I will tell you how in the dream
I apologize for acts I cannot commit

you reply wanting to be a believer
but simply cannot pull the trigger

and it’s there that we stand
immobilized & unequal
exposed for all the world to see
close enough to be heard
too far to feel each other’s heart




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

Posted in History, Poetry and tagged ,
31 Jan 2021
5 Comments

breakfast enchiladas


let’s see first things first
everybody out of the kitchen
brown pork sausage on stovetop
flour tortillas soaking in salsa
beat a few eggs [whilst
whistling the andy griffith theme song]
scrambling them lightly
in the buttered cast iron pan
melting in shredded cheddar at the end
everything placed in bowls on the counter
feet perfectly still & hips swaying
happily assembling one after another
oven heating to three seventy-five




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

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
30 Jan 2021

shadow boxing


another lackluster performance
in the back of your mind
having something to do with
virtual spectators
and a lack of spirit
dancing solo in the roped-off ring
concerns of regressing
back to the streets of brooklyn
by way of the mgm grand




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

Posted in Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
29 Jan 2021

the hounds of cedar county


come hell or highwater
they aspire to skulduggery
on any given evening
feeding their winning ways
with fire & rain & dirty money

they are the merriest troupe
known to go a-hunting
on any given evening
marching along the creekside
long-handled shovels in tow




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

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment
28 Jan 2021

it’s never too late


it’s early
it’s only twenty twenty-one
and we’re just getting started

some say
they know exactly what’s going on
selling their shit
for a buck ninety-nine

rich & famous
or infamous and rich
or simply rich & unknown
[wouldn’t that be the way to go]

if only it were possible
to constantly remain poor
privy to granular details
and praying to the lord
fully aware what happens here
will never go away

some say
they don’t know jack anymore
dumping their shit
to any open bid
saying to themselves
it’s never too late
to lighten your load




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

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
27 Jan 2021
3 Comments

white lantern


how do I go from here
now that the waxing gibbous
is nearly full
stealing my thoughts
and making me motionless

she is a glorious pale melon
rising above the whiteness
that is winter
saying look at me look at me
I am as cold as cold can be

bright like a lantern
on a visibly cloudless night
she exposes my
somber & aimless thoughts
my body warm & spellbound




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

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , ,
26 Jan 2021

hats off to the white rabbit


how shall he speak
this alter ego of yours
the white rabbit of your subconscious
residing in the underbelly
of your temporal existence

bespectacled & dressed
in trendy threads
he speaks in fits & starts
in a cockney accent no less
diverting any previous intentions

where they go from here
is anyone’s worst guess
the white rabbit on a winning run
telling you to blow on his paws
casting the dice into another world




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

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
25 Jan 2021
5 Comments

a watercolor recollection


my paper is yellow & my ink blue
the end product softly translucent
representing an open mind
open to all considerations
& consequences
the instrument in my hand trembles
tracing back memories
hundreds of thousands of hours
bluebells blooming madly
back in nineteen eighty-four




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

Posted in Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , ,
24 Jan 2021
5 Comments

on the side of a highway


writing doesn’t come easy to me
especially when you sneak
into my poetry
like a cat without a shadow

once you told me a little innuendo
goes a long way
then a week goes by
without a word or a wink
as if there isn’t anything to live for

but isn’t that what poetry
is all about
making something out of nothing
pulling words out of thin air
and throwing them against
your invisible brick wall

in the early morning hours
there you are
stabbing them with your picker
and sticking them
into your satchel
like a prisoner on the side
of a highway




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

Posted in Poetry and tagged ,
23 Jan 2021
9 Comments

how I got there


my father doesn’t want to die
oh no he is not afraid
after all his friends are all gone

I visit as often as time allows
90 miles from portal to portal
midway point at Big Rock

he revealed to me the route
not too many years ago
and now with every visit
he asks me how I got there




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

Posted in Poetry and tagged ,
22 Jan 2021
5 Comments

as palatable as sadness circulating in the air


there is sadness in the air
but in order to hear it you have to
shut everything down

whether it’s inside or out
of the body [or the house]
depends upon the strength of the sun
or the brilliance of the moon

follow me or lead the way
into the orchard
where seeds are plentiful
and temptations are as palatable
as sadness circulating in the air




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

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
21 Jan 2021
4 Comments

past & present on center stage


how dare I dwell on past
atrocities & injustices
inflicted on one’s people
by the fears of another
where history books are
whitewashed & rewritten
as if none of it was murderous
none of it problematic today

yes I did listen & later read
the great inaugural poem
finding myself applauding
and shedding a tear for hope
having no idea about her
background story or ambitions
or how the grace of god
had brought her to center stage




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

Posted in History, Poetry and tagged ,
20 Jan 2021
4 Comments

learning the lay of the land


challenges always lie ahead
past triumphs & travesties
routinely rolling out to sea
never to be seen

by nature I’d been enlisted
to fight and love and fight again
for causes undefined
and passions ill-advised

if I go
it will be called predestination
and if I don’t
I will have missed out
on an arguable adventure
one in which I have zero control

but what control do I possess
by taking an alternative path
one of isolation
leaving behind not one crumb
learning that the mountain walls
too have eyes
and underground rivers speak to me
in a language precisely my own




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

Posted in Poetry, War Poems and tagged ,
19 Jan 2021
2 Comments

the girl down the street


everything’s blowing up right
before our very eyes
and it has nothing to do with
proportional realities
cast inside our own hands

in the meantime
daughters are getting married
hunting dogs sent off to school
young valentines practicing their aim
at heart-shaped cumulus clouds

love thy neighbor has suddenly
become a thing of the past
especially since organized religion
is nothing but a passing fancy
and the girl down the street
can no longer to be trusted




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

Posted in Poetry and tagged ,

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