jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “dogma”

messengers of love


there is just the one god
there shall be none of this
three-in-one nonsense
or some other silly notion
for without truly believing in the one
man will never love his brother
what he loves for himself
      while loving thy neighbor
        (as thyself)
remains the most daunting proposition
       (ever put to the test)
for well over two thousand years


august two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

House on the Rock


A stretch of granite stones
long ago embedded into
the hill by supernatural forces
was once stepped upon
by grazing sheep
herded by determined men

On this firm foundation
a house was built
made of marble and glass
hauled to the top of the hill
by man and beast
masterfully pieced together
by sweat and skill

Down below children gather
pointing skyward and
marveling at the dazzling light
sparkling like a star
whispering to themselves
the house of God is near


december two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the woman and the dragon


looking back I saw a woman
dressed much like mother earth
giving birth to a king in the
land of promise and humility

an enormous red dragon
possessing master intelligence
and unchallenged authority
long ago recruited an army of angelic
host to destroy the newborn

and though succeeding at having him
put to death
the child was raised on the third day and
spirited away to his heavenly kingdom

since the deception in the garden
the red dragon has successfully ruled with
fiery abandon against all inhabitants

this mother of earth fled into the desert as
commanded by her lord
hiding from the red dragon during the
time of the great war that began in heaven
a war in which the winged general michael
drove the red dragon and his rebel angels
back to earth where they remained
forever confined

privy to all things seen and unseen
the lord of lords hid his people’s church
in a special place
as well as securing the believing
remnant of israel in the desert
near the dead waters


february two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

more dangerous dead


twenty-five lifetimes ago
there I was
witnessing the truth with my
very own eyes
chronicling
the birth
the childhood lessons
the ministry of the baptist
(and his beheading)
the sermon on the mount
the riding into town on a donkey

since then throughout
all these centuries
I’ve watched this beautifully
tolerant notion of community
torn down and
snatched by ordinary thugs
manipulated and maligned
encompassing the earth
like thin strands of truth
woven from east to west

and if you pluck one here
or strum a few over there
you just might create
a little harmony

or a whole lot of war


december two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the angel’s scroll


the sixth trumpet soundeth no more
and the clouds
enclosed within the outer dome
rolled in a deathly lull before the storm

like lightning an angel as large as
a million men
stepped through the barrier clouds
left foot landing on soil the other on sea

raising his hands up towards the darkness
the final judgments
unfolded by way of seven peals of thunder
transcribing the terror soon to take place

the lord commanded me to sit back
my pen and paper
grounded as the giant angel called forth
the presence of the seventh trumpeter

as the carnage of his enemies ensued
I was ordered
to take the scroll from the giant angel
and ingest what seemed to be a tasty treat

forced to witness warfare never before
seen on this earth
the scroll in my belly turned pungent as the
nonbelievers struggled to survive this world


november two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

love your enemies


I turned the other cheek
just as I had been taught
and a flat hand raced by
leaving imprints even time
could not erase

I loved my neighbor
just as I had loved myself
but I was arrested and
sentenced to the pit without
due course

I had forgiven your sins
but was charged with blasphemy
cursed and kicked and spat on
accused of pretending
to be perfect


november two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

angels of mercy


birds of all nations storm
war-torn suburbia
switchblades and derringers
concealed under wing
blanketing rooftops and lining live wires
waiting patiently for night to fall

predawn fog smothers the moon
and silences the stars
cloaking angels of mercy
and their effortless wings
zeroing in on and sweeping away
newly orphaned refugees


november two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

wormwood


hurtling through space indefinitely
it was only a matter of time
before wormwood
reached the outer edges
exploding into a colorfully
destructive rainshower

up above trumpets sounded
and incense burned
angels huddled together
compacting balls of fire
and hurling them onto earth

though many on the surface
perished from such punishment
it was wormwood
that single-handedly wiped out
a third of all living things
both on land
and on sea
and below the sea

and though dust consumed
a third of the sun’s light
supersonic blasts
broke through the haze
telegraphing without question
the worst was yet to come


october two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the seven year period


the world paused in shock and awe
before assessing the worldwide
infrastructural and
virtual damages from the initial
mind-blowing strikes

communication channels changed
word of mouth traveled at slower speeds
while new intermediaries
were reintroduced into the mad scene

one hundred forty-four thousand in total
the twelve tribes reconvened
ventured out twelve thousand strong each
sent to evangelize the
four corners of the world
using every language in every nation

while the living continued making reparations
the millions of non-believers
(those who had turned into believers but did
not survive the rapture)
stood before the throne
dressed in white and waving palms branches
worshipping and singing praises
ever thankful never to hunger or thirst again

back on earth millions upon millions
were welcomed into the fold
their totals exceeding the sum of
all previous human history
hopeful but uncertain and
unknowing the middle ground
would completely disappear
ushering in the next era
the most perilous times ever


october two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

I Heard Him on the Radio

from the book of revelation

I heard Him preaching on the radio
streaming from station to station
delivering dire consequences to the
seven churches of the day
straying in their ways by concerning
themselves more with their own
hierarchy and corporate governance than
adhering to their original mission of
loving and serving the Trinity

But to those individuals overcoming their
faults through repentance and devotion
I heard him on the radio promising
manna from the tree of life
crowns and white garments to wear
powers to conquer all nations
pillars made in their name in the temple
and offering them the golden opportunity
to sit alongside the ultimate King


september two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Chapter Five

from the book of revelation

the boss
held his possessions closely
encrypted them within seven seals

the pain he must feel
becomes real tears streaming
live down so many faces

pelted with insults his child
refuses to die
reaches out to a world
programmed to never understand
their own ransom

new generations give forth
a sense of promise
offering peace on earth (for the)
next thousand years

newly created criminals
and their invisible entourage
emerge as expected
floating like butterflies and
stinging like bees


august two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Beyond These Walls


This strange new world has me abounded by fear
not sure where I stand
unsure when I may fall

The aggression builds boundlessly
until the anger lets loose

And when it’s over
when I reflect on the action
when I’m all alone in my own little world

I weep
yes I weep like an angel

Since when do actions speak more loudly than words?
I say Jesus’ acts were more powerful than his gospel
(I keep him in my pocket, like a slug)
And when I’m sure that I can’t stand
on my own two feet
I reach for him

and weep
yes I weep like an angel

Try to believe you’re no different
than you were at the age of three
and you’re fooling yourself

Try to believe you’ve never pulled the trigger
and you’re fooling yourself

White concrete and silver steel
have never had the same meaning
as they do now


originally penned nineteen ninety-six
audio recorded june two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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