the creativity of the hand
and of the eye
one-of-a-kind productions
generational
acclaimed worldwide
worthy to be stolen
violated
imprisoned
& in some cases
transported to the moon
january two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she told me to make the skies bluer
and the setting sun orangier
I told her I would have to start all over
no you don’t she said
here let me show you
and she took over the canvas
the brushes & the paints
proceeded to turn my mediocre
landscape of sea & sun & clouds
into something beautifully alien
october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
an empty carton of milk
former half gallon of chocolate
she refills it with her own
measured concoction
the smell of powdered chalk
filling her nostrils
she doesn’t read the newspaper
instead shreds it into thin long slats
taking on the shape of a burial mound
piled high on the makeshift table
days goes by before having at it again
tearing into the carton to get to the solid block
from there carving & sanding
meticulously ensues
mimicking the miniature clay prototype
at rest on a shelf
in the corner of her eye
august two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s like stepping back in time
long before plymouth rock
or the white man’s first encounter
w/native americans
this 12th century castle
was the first of its kind
modeled after nothing but an idea
what it would take to stay alive
you see back then there was
plenty of human ingenuity
artistic accomplishments
& historic achievements
of course what remained
was the insatiable desire to kill
and that spread like wildfire
by way of land & sea & sky
june two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’m not too concerned
if I don’t hear from you again
you see I have you locked
in this utopia
complete with a flower garden
apple tree & snake
white sands nearby & heavenly
clouds up above
You’re not the only one
to have it made there alive
the rest of us recirculating the works
filling stadiums with zealots
and unlocking
more & more mysteries
some by way of science
but more often than not by art
january two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there is art in the air
you can see it
smell it
feel it
you can breathe it in
and exhale with a complete
sense of satisfaction
there is a sense of security
that art brings
to the table
whether seen or heard
or simply vibrating
through the atmosphere
like a hundred billion molecules
play me a song with your fingers
painting surreal pictures
inside my head
making me younger
than I really am
and giving me the courage
to start all over again
february two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
addicted to art you look for inspiration
in most unusual places
taverns with motorcycles
hanging on walls
farmer markets with chocolate
covered butterflies and vegan jerky
sidewalks littered by children
carrying buckets of colored chalk
those walking dead around you
have limited value
as you attempt
to reconcile your obsessions
with mundane surroundings
your ordinary thoughts souring
your true intention of discovering
a way to master vivid imaginings
your dreams are not enough
you need to put them into action
and so you interact with the
world around you
the unpredictable one
the irreconcilable one
the pretty one and the ugly one
the one that comes and goes
as she pleases
march two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the sails in this watercolor look
like albino shark fins
she said while stretching her
neck to one side
the whitecaps are amazing
she went on to say
they’re perfect equilaterals
one rolling into the next
below the prismatic horizon
she stared at the painting
for another minute
dabbing at her eyes before
reaching out for my hand
what’s the matter I asked her
I’m bored to death she said
we’ve got to get out of this place
january two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
The last time we danced in Vienna
the stock market had yet to crash
and the very idea of Austria as her
very own state seemed preposterous
Though a Yankee I spoke perfect German
both in and out of
pubs and proper places
quick to blame my loving Mother when
questioned about my presence
I remember you telling me Vienna would
never be harmed
because you said
she represents the soul in everyone
I remember you telling me
the foundation era would blossom into
a flower of unimaginable artistry and peace
I believed everything you told me
just like it was yesterday
Detained for questioning for what I believed
had everything to do with your talents
how could it be I would never see you again
left to search your peaceful streets
as the world around us
descends into chaos
march two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she thought she knew
the difference between
art and trash
but when her life
became such a mess
everything around her
became just plain wrong
I’ll be damned she thought
ripping up the dear john letter
if that racist poet hasn’t resorted
to exploiting sex slaves again
desperate for fresh air
she walks the yard
and spits on the ceramic pig
pissed at the world
and swearing to herself one day
someone will rescue her from
this godforsaken farm
march two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
your desire for beauty
is lost
in your bouts of hatred for anything
you can’t comprehend
or attempt to understand
forcing yourself
to react uncontrollably instead of
pausing for reflective thought
I wished I had never taken you
that day they forced you
out of the museum
your legs kicking
and arms flailing
repeatedly shouting that picasso
was nothing but a chauvinistic pig
february two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Inside the city thousands converge
on the open market regardless the weather
The allure is captured in historical relevance
where honest exchanges of trade and art
played out for centuries with civility
At the center of the square an acting troupe
dressed as traditional chess pieces
reenact the ‘56 match between Byrne and Fischer
the characters moving on the checkered stage
as commanded by the intelligentsia
Relaxing on a bench I breath in the city’s past
contemplate how its future could possibly change
A block away a string quartet starts in on Mozart
compelling me to walk among the people
and toward yesterday’s perfection
april, two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Art the beautfiul pheasant
so wanted to be a partridge
dreamed of living
in a pear tree
on Christmas day
Boundaries kept him at bay
limited his Las Vegas odds
of surviving
Iowa fields
for another season
Art the beautiful pheasant
forged ahead in colorful pride
turned shrubbery
into a birdcave
and survived the winter
Such ingenuity and foresight
found favor with the gods
aided the bird
and his clan
to march further south
Art the beautiful pheasant
so wanted to be a partridge
but settled for life
in a sanctuary
on the Mississippi
december, two thousand eleven
copyright j matthew waters
Painting by Renée C Winkel (click to enlarge)
jdubqca 