the sun rises in the east
and there is no place to escape
time chases me in my sleep
forcing me into places I would
never dare enter otherwise
the sun dangling over my shoulder
I’m reminded I could be facing
something much worse
than my own shadow
the city streets are cold tonight
interminable winds whistling
past streetlights that never dim
october two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
pretty princess sleeping on bed of nails
unable to differentiate between dreams
and real life kisses on the lips
at the hotel hilton she sleeps in
every single sunday
undisturbed by pretty maids wielding
feather dusters and vacuum cleaners
on mondays she checks out early
wandering the commonwealth’s streets
steering clear of the king’s wishes
and searching for something italian
october two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
my inner clock
wakes me when
I am tired
reminds me to take
pictures of my past
whether or not I’ll ever
revisit them
napping on couch
sunrays creep inside
my cobweb dreams
shaking them
making my eyelids flutter
photographs flash
frame after frame
like an accelerating
motion picture
the sun hardly
visible on bright canvass
falling rapidly like a
comet with no tomorrow
october two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I stepped onto a rocket ship
hoping it would take me away
from all earthly woes
a couple hundred bucks seemed
like a fair trade toward becoming
more or less ungrounded
the view from the top supersedes
all things seen and unseen
no matter how fleeting
like a beauty queen
unstrapped and plummeting
supersonically
gravity fought the law and
contained me
inside an asylum disguised
as a yellow submarine
far below the oily surface
september two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I saw the light of the faintest star
settle inside your eyes
blinking to life possibilities from
little known places
when the faintest light cast
indelible marks on the surface
somewhat more meaningful
and magical images evolved
expanding from within
creation doesn’t stop when stars
set in the west
just as dreams never drown in light
and that little child of yours
separated from violent strikes
reaches for your love
ascending
august two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
they sat inside shadow boxes
listening to the telephone ring
sharing desires and dreams
up and down the tufted line
someone on the other end
complained profusely
to someone who pretended to care
all the while launching sharpened
pencils into the glass ceiling
one of them strolled from station
to station with palm wide open
collecting dollar bills and stuffing
them into a groundless folgers can
come monday morning
they would do it all over again
listening to the telephone ring
and explaining what they’d do
with their fair share
august two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
think of me
when the skies in your dream
break free from dusk
dream of me
when you roll over and discover
your softer side
think of me
as if I was still a young man
running after you
remember me
chasing you in your dreams
toward the light of day
july two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it was like a dream
there was concrete and many
shades of blue
I was trying to free myself
from a predicament
that had nothing to do with you
and so I crawled away
while you sailed interstellar space
not even bothering to write
(even when you had the time)
your vibe slowly fading
like a september sunflower
it was only a matter of time
before I caught up to you
(is what I kept telling myself)
but then I was yanked away
(yet again) by a jealous entity
determined to rattle
the coins out my pocket
and send me back two steps
to see where I went wrong
july two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we thought we’d stay awhile
and savor the moment
but then the rains came
I grabbed your hand
and we fled as fast as our
legs could possibly go
once under the bridge
we calmed our breathing
holding each other for dear life
dreaming on a bed of rock
your beating heart
kept perfect time with mine
july two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s after eight o’clock
and you’ve yet to call
my mind drifting
heart barely beating
the weekend it seems
never really existed
was merely reality
wrapped in a dream
all the miles recorded
by air and land and sea
play back repeatedly
like a silent movie
perhaps I forgot to say
I’ll be home by monday
or perhaps never said
exactly where I’d be
june two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
in the dream I am running further
and further away from my home
fully aware that whatever
is on my tail is no longer
I awaken on sunday morning
in my downtown office
dressed in shorts and a tie
swearing to myself
the air smells like a lie
a close friend I had yet to meet
stares into a personal device
telling me to walk this way
and I follow like a man in a trance
at six sixty-six in the morning
the streets are crowded with faces
staring inside their own hands
mindlessly ringing up stores sales
while the lights on every bank
on every street corner go dark
this is all impossible I say to myself
and as I start my long trek home
I’m confronted by an old pair
of nicely dressed nutcrackers
informing me there is no way out
may two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
these precious days pass by
like a picture book dream
featuring rolling hills and
psychedelic fields
filled with buttercups
and honeybees
diving off a mountain bluff
you slowly descend
circling an umbrella of trees
guided by a willful power
taking you to the stream
alone you stand calling out
without saying a word
and all that was
and all that was meant to be
filters through your sparkling eyes
may two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I woke up to what sounded like
faint laughter coming from the living room
of course I could have been dreaming
I lay in the dark fully awake and surprisingly
at ease
just waiting to hear more laughter
the blinds were drawn but I knew damn well
it was still cold and dark outside
I looked at my wrist watch and wondered
if it had snowed
and then suddenly
the laughter came again
this time livelier and from multiple sources
much louder than the laughter
that had initially stirred me
(the big house makes many sounds anymore
now that I am the only one left)
I wondered if they had found the goods
stashed inside the walls
and false ceiling
wondered if they had found the mind-altering
substances that left me paralyzed
and perfectly at peace
january two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the iceman cometh on broadway
is how I understand it
on stage or in some city park
brought back to life by an imagination
starving for attention
I swear I heard the radioman
repeating the iceman will cometh
to a theater near you
they dug him out of a hole
created back in 1782
apparently buried deep inside
where the frozen ocean
meets the rock
they revived him time and time
again
and each time
he lost a little more of his life
deprived of dreams and oxygen
that would one day save his life
july two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
if the birds don’t rule this world
nobody knows who does
they fly in and out of dreams
as if they had been here before
first to awaken they stir the frost
with slow motion wings
opening promises above the clouds
in prehistoric times they fed without
fear of twenty gauge buckshot
back in the future they learn
to penetrate outer atmospheres
they’ve seen it all and they pass their
knowledge onto future generations
long after migrating from this world
july two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the trail started centuries ago
I could see it in my sleep
countless times
could feel it beneath my feet
step by step
weaving through rocks and streams
familiar faces diminishing
and reappearing in the wood
like angels and fairies and elves
encouraging me to proceed
perhaps protecting me
leading me past the rustic gates
introducing far-reaching fields
where the sharpest of barbed wire
could not deter me from
entering your sacredly wild dreams
june two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 