jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “death”

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

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

through the motions


here we go again
giving praise where praise is due
never to mere mortals
(we should know better)
but perhaps a god a goddess
one who walks beside us

no specific revelation
exists in anyone’s lifetime
for you see any such thing
(if existing one way or another)
must come before the preface
or right after the finale





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

and for the last three he stays


it’s not like I’ve been here before
staring death in the face
recollecting what it was like the last time
and how effortless it seemed
to move onto the next phase

they say over time
life is supposed to get easier
but that is far from the truth
just ask any old cat
rising from the ashes for the seventh
or eighth time

and now here I stand before you
challenging the status quo
asking how in the world can I be
the same man you once knew
even before you were born





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

dual linguistics


slipping in & out of consciousness
the world is suddenly strange again
going from one calamity
to the next
hopeful something wonderful
is on the horizon

an alternative reality may be that I’m
actually dead
as reported two plus years ago
after the new flu broke out
leaving me hanging around in this place
and that
waiting for someone or something
to tell me what I should do

one thing’s for sure
that is the birds on the other side
are starting to make
more & more sense
as I continue to pick up
on some of their languages





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

the days I lived alone


I am trapped inside this house
a house without mirrors
all of them stolen
by mice & men

here I am left to own devices
setting traps
& replaying forty-fives
with the volume on high
as I attempt to wipe away
all the evidence
all the blood
from the bathroom
& the kitchen
and down below
where the furnace roars

I don’t really live here
anymore
it seems the mice
have taken over
a transitional situation
to say the least





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

song of the dead


the complete destruction
of the inner self
man-made annihilation of the
third kind
on the verge of reinvention
of inner thought
of stillness & water & ash
a private practice
a near death experience





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

time bleeds


time bleeds
pauses for no reason
and a scab forms

people come & go
and I am right there
intermingling amongst them
not really thinking
simply doing
like a dedicated army ant

time bleeds
stopping by applying
pressure
making origami
tourniquets
shutting it down
at least temporarily

time bleeds
a passed on genetic defect
a character flaw
an embarrassment having
to leave the show
for no apparent reason

incapable of discovering
the beginning or the end
I’ll not retire the thought
that what I don’t yet know
will one day be revealed





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

four twenty & counting


there’s a hole in the earth
will you fill it
will you create
something beautiful out of it

what if you filled it with seeds
what would they be
regular or feminized or auto-flower

would you plant
birch & oak
maple & pine
palm & beech
—how many trees will it take
to fill the void

will you live out your days there
cultivating & dreaming
turning the hole into an oasis
yourself into a god

will you find that death
is impossible there
once deeply rooted
down in the hole





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

Recalling the Day I Died


I’ve become dizzied

    ~ spinning faster than a top
or something known as a whirling dervish

struggling to recall the day’s events
I’ve given up on the present

there is much digging going on

          in the garden

                it is springtime

& the commotion is overwhelming

            the year nineteen fourteen
the last time I was alive





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

you can’t take it with you


I spent hours working on my short game
but it just wasn’t panning out

I’d grown so fast in such a short period of time
there was nothing left to do
but start all over again

I spent less time on my end game
& invested whatever energies I could muster
back into non-fungible tokens

from there anything was possible
including the outside chance
of accumulating assets
& oh yes     taking them with me





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

the dream interpreter


every time I come to some sort of conclusion
the next riddle presents itself
and I am forced yet again to deal with
this thing called life

when the next riddle presents itself
I tend to sleep in
using my dreams to my advantage
writing them down in fits & starts
and taping them to the wall
pacing back & forth
sometimes a forefinger
placed on my lower lip
other times with hands on hips

not everything is solvable
at least not in this lifetime
where dungeons & flying dragons
plastered on tear-stained walls
are as real as death itself





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

dying in interesting times


it looks like the end is near
as if nineteen sixty-one
were alive & well

this time the pigs
have been replaced by bats
[though having gone by the wayside]
replaced by carefully selected letters
from the greek alphabet

too many distractions
from all parts of the world
locking down & opening up
the new flavor of the day
comes in any color except
eggshell white

we’re not allowed to discuss
certain things anymore
elected officials having become
jokers & clowns
publishing numbers by way of tweets
and scaring all the children
who have little time left to live





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

high expectations


she was everything
from start to finish
you name it & it’s done

next door the lights
are low & the sound
is next to nothing

visitors come & go
never for very long
and on occasion

a firefighter or two
might stop by
just to check in

she used to save
lives but like her idol
is unable to save herself

and meanwhile
all the people in her life
rotate in & out





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

cleaning house


the good china
shattered into pieces
and a collective sigh of relief
naturally ensued


heaven hath no dust
or so I was taught
neither having time
for anything shattered

there are plenty
more memories to shatter
continuing to work
from room to room





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

one beautiful life at a time


you reflect & wonder
how it was
you escaped death
(after all these years)
recounting on 1.4 hands
those near-
death experiences


each one a story
unto themselves
you tell your invisible friends
but since this is a poem
the details will be vague
& the metaphors
plentiful

where there is smoke
there is humanity
attempting to put out fires
romantic truth-seekers
watching the world
casually destroying itself
one beautiful life at a time




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

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