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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “dreams”

literary incendiaries


clearly he sought a connection
one in which nobody in the world
could ever have dreamed

how quickly one learns stars are stirred
beneath the belly of its creator
like a newly born burrowing mammal
drawn to its first light

and so he imagined there were only
three worlds to discover
        the second of which
lies upon the surface itself



july two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

georgia


nothing is real
not even the exception to the rule
to which you have seemed
to execute to perfection

I’ve chased down
many a dream with no end
only to pick things back up
exactly where you left them

you leap from tree to
tree with relative ease
repeating in my mind like a
hand-made picture show

I toss it aside
carefully behind a bush
thinking there’s a good chance
I want to retrieve it

I always tell myself
you should have told me
to stop swinging for the fences
a long long time ago



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

only dreaming


I showed up with plenty of time to spare
so I ordered myself a beer

nothing was really happening and I began
to wonder what brought me here

perhaps we had met in a previous lifetime
and me being here
was nothing more than a memory

or perhaps I’m still alive and only daydreaming



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

daydreaming at night


I’ve not seen it all
this movie that weaves
in and out of close encounters

actors are not what they seem
on any kind of stage
whether supported on oak trestles
or razor thin wire

the money flows like milk and money
brewed and bottled on the black market
where trade secrets are available for sale
anywhere from one to a million bitcoin

sometimes I like to daydream
during the night
just to shake things up
excited to rehearse those parts
I’m least familiar with



may two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

shadow in my periphery


there is a shadow in my periphery
merely a glimmer of my future self

the moment I sense its presence
it reshapes itself and disappears
leaving behind a lingering desire

that which cannot be defined
interrupts my ordinary days with
perfectly placed subliminal messages

I’ve learned to decode and encrypt
slowly making sense of my former life
diligently uncovering its suppressed dreams

little did I know the shadow in my periphery
was nothing but an outcast heart seeking light



april two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

catching up with the midnight rider


I miss everything reckless
and I’m bound and determined
to make another run at it
barreling down river road
giving chase to the current

most times it’s impossible
to catch the leader (of the pack)
let alone decipher exactly
who put what in motion

even without all the facts
I’m prepared to move on
singing a song I’ve not forgotten
when once upon a time
I dreamed I was a little girl



march two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

    in pursuit of peace


    the bounty on my head
    keeps going up
    or so I’ve heard from the
    monotonous talking heads
    streaming in the air

    I’m feeling much better
    since crossing the mississippi
    heading east by northeast
    toward an unknown place
    where sanctuaries still exist

    secret agent men
    keep hunting me in my sleep
    but I manage to elude them
    by rolling over into
    a new form of reality

    I know every inch of concrete
    and railway between
    this world and the next
    where I am destined to settle
    into indescribable peace



    february two thousand seventeen
    copyright j matthew waters
    all rights reserved

    it’s gonna snow sometime soon


    it’s early february
    but the calendar has yet to turn

    there’s no snow on the ground
    but it’s cold as hell
    people dressed for spring and shivering
    whiskey beginning to wear off
    hands shaking for another shot

    the sun never shined in january
    it was a record year

    without the sun I can’t dream (she used to say)

    I get up earlier and earlier every day
    thinking I might catch the sun somehow

    but you live in the valley (she says)

    oh yes I keep forgetting

    there’s no whiskey in the cupboard
    it disappeared that wintry night
    they took away my baby

    when’s it going to snow again (she says)



    february two thousand seventeen
    copyright j matthew waters
    all rights reserved

    kansas city blues


    sky big and cloudless
    I count the days of sobriety

    looking down the track
    all I see are sixes
    rolling on down the line

    paper hat stuffed in back pocket
    patterned like salt and pepper
    sporting paper suit and
    folding paper planes
    riding atop the dream train

    kansas city’s but a night
    or two away
    its lights and sounds
    pulsating in my veins



    january two thousand seventeen
    copyright j matthew waters
    all rights reserved

    at one with the earth


    they huddle around the fire
    the little ones in front
    wrapped in animal hides
    and mesmerized by the flames

    black and bedazzled
    is the sky
    spotlighting
    exhalations of storytellers
    reading from unwritten books

    soundless nights accentuate
    the reality of dreams
    projecting and protecting
    the history of a people
    at one with the earth



    december two thousand sixteen
    copyright j matthew waters
    all rights reserved

    rapid eye movement


    trees speak in your sleep
    like those three dogs
    chained up down the street
    scratching at the aluminum fence
    and digging holes in
    all the wrong places

    trees speak in your sleep
    using the wind and
    birds and insects as carriers
    scratching out memos
    and pontificating about the evils
    of the new world order

    trees speak in your sleep
    sharing secrets from the shire
    hosting a murder of crows
    gathering above the creek
    whispering incessantly
    fearing you may awaken



    december two thousand sixteen
    copyright j matthew waters
    all rights reserved

    déjà vu and me


    I am tired but I wake up anyway

    I don’t dare dream of showering for fear
    that I may never get out

    yesterday I had hypothermia
    at least that’s what I thought
    but every time I took my temperature
    it said I had a fever

    I don’t play the french lottery
    but for some reason
    I keep checking the numbers

    I used to dream of blackbirds
    screaming at the sunrise
    but now all I get are sunsets
    exploding exactly like last night



    november two thousand sixteen
    copyright j matthew waters
    all rights reserved

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