oh glorious night settle into darkness
and let me tell thee whom I give my life
I belong neither to sky above nor sea below
and from all accounts was burst forth from
scorpius some thirty-three light years ago
though my days on earth have been counted
on one thousand and one hands
it is a far cry to say this was ever my home
for the glory of goodness lives not here
but rather in a place and time that knows no end
november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
descending into madness at midnight
I pull pieces of bread from my pockets
feeding them to my soul
in the morning I take tylenol
and pour raw milk onto a
bowl of rice krispies
listening to vague childhood memories
in the middle of the afternoon the full
moon hides behind marshmallow clouds
my conscience reminding me
(as I fall into a self-induced slumber)
how everything becomes edible in the end
november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
a thin vapor trail
slipped in through the front door
but nobody was home
if I had been there
I would have noticed something
was quite different
but I was gone on a
journey of a lifetime
the place had not changed
all these years
everything perfectly in place
as if nobody had really
lived there
while my mind wandered
away from worldly ideals
seeking out transcendental gurus
residing on new moons
my spirit remained behind
waiting patiently
to be seen
april two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
what have I contributed
to the cause
keeping the music alive and
guarding elephants
from poachers
I’ve given up aerosol sprays
and gasoline
marlboro lights
store-bought soup
and religion
how much more do I have to give
that constant humming in my ear
is that just a warning from
my guardian angel
or simply a reminder
how those widely admired
can easily be swept away
like a night owl’s prey
silently screaming
absolution doesn’t exist
in the blink of an eye
and even if it did
no act of contrition could
prevent anyone from
seeing the light
january two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there is death in the desert
and death in the sea
there is death in the streets of paris
and on the avenue of the saints
in the halls of washington the president
designs death in new ways
and those around him applaud
and he smiles
in the meantime he decries death in the theater
and death in the schools
and his people will pretend they don’t know
what is causing all the death
they are too busy with their own superficial lives
to question why army drones are supplying weapons
to enemy camps and into the
hands of every enemy of every nation
they are numb to the concept of violent death
because it is simply ingrained into their psyche
and they spoon-feed it to their children
in the form of horrific death on television screens
on movie screens and computer screens
on the tiniest of handheld screens
the idea of mass death does not faze them
and when a day goes by without it
they think something must be wrong
and when dreamers talk of peace they laugh
because they know peace is unnatural
and takes too much effort to pull off
and so death simply goes on
long after the final curtain call
november two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
repetition of living has taken its toll
on my susceptible shell
altering its physicalities
while heightening my emotions
determined to keep my thoughts
in proper order
I focus on an energy
that is bound to send me skyward
nothing can take away the color
of those changing leaves
or the rippling of streaming water
polishing age-old rocks
nothing can erase the rising
of an off-white moon
or the setting of a kaleidoscope sun
nothing will remove the sounds of laughter
on a summer afternoon
or the sadness trapped inside
melancholy sighs
stepping forward and upward
effortlessly
I shed the weight of the world
and all that it entails
sailing away while looking back
at an endless recollection
october two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
everyone I know is getting older
and some are even dying without
a moment’s notice
never getting a chance to say
good-bye
good-bye
good-bye sweet world
in the grocery store I ran into Joe
and asked him how his wife was doing
she’s gone man where have you been
I’m sorry I say and walk away
out in the parking lot everyone is
a ghost of their former selves
systematically going about their lives
running out of bright ideas
to reverse the inevitable
but not me I am perfectly fine
no wrinkles on my face
a rosy glow still on my cheeks
I tell myself this is the last time
I’m going shopping here
and I rev up the engine and
drive my case of american pale ale
back home where we belong
august two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
her lover took her by the hand
leading her to places
she’s never seen before
sounds from the inside inaudible
feet kicking as they scale uphill
there are higher places to climb
than here he tells her
pointing to a pale moon in the blue sky
day surrendered to the stars
her lover reminding her of that night
when nightingales sang lullabies
and wildflowers covered their eyes
there are higher places to climb
than here he tells her
embracing the beauty of their heartbeats
morning arrived and she boarded
the hot air balloon
sailed away weeping and waving
her lover cradling a silent child
promising her all the world
would one day know her name
may two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved Author’s Note:
This poem loosely based on the song of the same name by Incubus Click here for youtube video with lyrics
these fears inside I lay to rest
as setting sun bows and
curtsies one final time
I’m off to chase grander stars
hosting brighter moons
orbiting other oceans
sent on my merry way
accidentally
a victim so it seems
partially of my own accord
there are no sad marches
no guns to be fired
no motorcycle escorts
no victory day parades
there are no flowers or polaroids
or guestbooks or folded flags
no children sniffling
or women weeping
from now on the future
is my present
and whatever good I left behind
would one day become
a necessary ingredient
to grow the shadiest of trees
january two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it just sucks
all this is going on and one day
nothing matters
none of it matters
and you’re gone
and there’s nothing more
who’s to say there’s nothing more
she says
sitting back in her director’s chair
legs crossed and freshly shaved
don’t go there he says
don’t you dare go there
maybe death is a good thing she says
maybe it’s the start of something new
and hopelessly beautiful
just like this glass of champagne
maybe we shouldn’t be buying champagne
he says
maybe we should be buying real estate
yes she says
a change of scenery would do you wonders
january two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
taking trails less traveled
led me to where the
trees had fallen
where horses long ago
abandoned the woods
falling to my knees I
listened ‘neath the silence
felt inner earth’s heartbeat
inside my very bones
faintly alive and hurting
lost generations remain
charred in this place
recycled into ghostly ashes
reshaped into
ever-changing apparitions
silence ensued and robbed
me of all my thoughts
leading me to believe
the only way out was
through my imagination
october two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
he shuffled the deck as quickly
as he talked
telling stories about kings and queens
and barbers in the castle
something about the three jacks
hanging out at the fire station
playing checkers with their pals
pick a card he said
proceeding to ramble on about the
price of milk and gasoline and
disposable razors
did you look at your card he asked
yeah I looked at my card I said
keeping the card face down I
slid it back into the deck
certain he didn’t see it
he shuffled the cards and shuffled
them again and continued to
shuffle the shit out of them
as he went on and on
babbling about how man never
really landed on the moon
how fairy tales used to scare him straight
and how the pope was really lucifer
having the time of his life
he splayed the deck across the table
and I could see my card but it was mostly
covered by the king of hearts
when I looked up he had stopped talking
and was just staring at me
expressionless
what’s wrong I asked him
nothing’s wrong with me he said
but I’d like to know how long
you’re planning on hiding your
misfortune behind the suicide king
july two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
these dreams go beyond make-believe
and into spaces without stars
where coldness goes unnoticed
and past lives become memoirs
as I lie asleep out at sea
you seem to disappear along the shore
consumed by ultraviolet rays
disguised as gently rolling waves
cradle rocking from side to side
foreign voices tell me not to cry
assuring me things will be all right
once understanding how it ends
june two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she’s in a better place now
he mumbled to himself
retying his wingtips on the bathroom stool
dabbing his finger with his tongue
and erasing old smudge marks
she never felt comfortable
walking in her own shoes
choosing instead to be someone else
like a promising young star
searching for that perfect role
he walked back into the parlor
and mingled among the living
wondering where in the macrocosm
her consciousness had landed
now that her body lay in state
june two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
tower guards flash spotlights
across the desert sky filled with zeppelins
searching for someplace to hide
the wreckage in the field goes unnoticed
for nearly a fortnight
by the time help arrives nothing is out of place
ever since
black sheep wander the land of fools
where someone is certain to die
any given night
slaughtered by supersonic streams of consciousness
running artificial red lights
may two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
if I was any more aware I’d be dead
she said
lying face down
the anguish in her voice the result of my will
digging deeper into her quads
what’s that supposed to mean
I said
switching things up by slowly
massaging her thigh
locating more tissue
untouched in so many years
oh shit
she said
I felt that
oh god that feels so good
that part about the dead
I asked
what’s that all about
some sort of enlightenment
oh yes
she said
that’s exactly what it is
and if you just shut up
you just might get me there
may two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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