strips of bacon appeared
in my high-definition dream
alongside ripened tomatoes
farm fresh eggs
and quarter pound cheeseburgers
I could hear them pop and sizzle
in their own searing grease
could smell the sweetness
originating from the kitchen
and infiltrating the entire house
pretending I’m fully awake
I tuck a linen napkin
up under my chin
march down the staircase
wielding flatware and a hefty appetite
january two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
how do i decide
what to believe is real?
should i follow my thoughts
or just live out my dreams?
there once was a time
i worried about my heart
but as the years pass on
i know it’s my soul
i most trust.
september two thousand seven
audio january two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we prepared our minds with
foolproof lies and
carried on about our lives
as if darkness never
overshadowed anything
what was once reinvented
can be invented yet again
and those monsters
lurking behind old photographs
remain buried alive
unsuspecting memories
hang in undisclosed caverns
like misplaced dreams
tapping your shoulder
night after tireless night
without thinking we pushed
onward through the air
like a refreshing wind
blowing away the morning fog
that once weighed us down
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we worked the wet sand
into old world castles
restarting aqueducts and
protecting the bridge with
toy soldiers
overnight tides washed
away recent memory
giving way to daybreak
and the innocence of
virgin beaches
starting from scratch
we sawed and
sanded and hammered away
convincing ourselves
things will be different
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we took the long road
to the top of the island
believing by the time we got back
to the ocean
your father would be gone
pausing along the way
we listened to the distant waves
while lying on our backs
nibbling on treats and
pretending the clouds
flew like pink elephants
the rhythm of the water
slowly put us to sleep
our dreams commingling
as your father’s footfalls
echoed ever closer
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I crawled out of my skin
and curled into a ball
allowed the wind to kick me
down an endless winding road
along the way I witnessed
invisible claws dig
deep inside an open field
uncovering ancient treasures
as diamonds gradually
overwhelmed the sky
I unfurled my mind and
surrendered my spirit
to the next reality
november two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
visions arrive in feverish shapes
testing my sanity
in a darkness protected from a
cold november rain
flashes of restlessness appear
out of no where
reminding me of a dogged past
certain to hound me again
voiceless visitors with a certain
je ne sais quoi
talk me into believing
this night will never end
november two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there are certain things I’ll take to the grave
I said as I raised my half-filled glass
trying to figure out
if it was half full before
transferring the past down my throat
to the grave the patrons chanted
swallowing what remained of their
bottomless dreams
contented by the friendship of
lonely people
unbothered by next month’s bills
morning arrives without a demon in sight
the truth temporarily impaired
allowing me to get on with it
as they say
and forget all over again
those things going to the grave
october two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there’s something
terribly wrong with me
it seems everyone knows
what it is but me
I ask the doctor
what the hell could it be
I don’t know he says
try talking to your friends
sleepless friends whisper
empty promises
and in the morning
those promises live on
october two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
No wires needed here
just plant yourself
in a pod
plunge yourself in
fantastical worlds
Supersonic speeds
flash images
long ago
boarding upon
magic carpet rides
History repeats
on movie screens
living dead
pretend nothing
ever existed
One way tickets
turn into gold
down below
where white rabbits
introduce new holes
october two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
nobody asked me to share
my dreams with anyone
so I kept them to myself
nurtured them as best I could
in the middle of the night
silence awakened me
beckoned me to walk alone
in streets that never sleep
along the way I imagined
the sad ones called my name
reaching out like lonely stars
dying to find a home
I gathered them in jars
full of oxygen and hope
promised to return again
when eyes are laid down low
september two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the bird in the stream
loves to scream at midnight
when deep in her sleep
she dreams of elegant legs
to-die-for tail feathers
and a graceful neckline
no longer interested in
fly-by-night playboys
she catches her limit
before the rooster’s crow
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
in the dream
a dark cloud follows overhead
like a skeptical stray cat
neither threatening nor kind
unbiased and nearly lifeless
far beyond
stars form stellar pyramids
with eye-shaped apertures
blinking a visual morse code
only warlords understand
in the dream
martin luther king preaches
to a desperate generation
promising harmony and hope
where there is only despair
far beyond
star factories push the limits
within a universe pulling back
brushing aside dark clouds
and bringing change on earth
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
barely breathing
and unable to move
I imagine the sun
rising above
the endless hills
a simple incision
clears a path for a
laser-guided blade
to reshape my mind
and redefine my life
as I lay awakening
to blinding whiteness
the pain I once knew
vanished with time
that never existed
july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Thousands of miles from home, viewing gardens
I’ve been meaning to plant, I sit and sketch
with charcoal on textured paper a perfect,
utopian presence like that place in Genesis.
The hotel makes me honestly welcomed
from the “Sirs” to the stars to the telephone
in the commode. In the drawing I see myself
never leaving, ever. I am drawn to be within
The shades of grass and green, contemplating
the reasons I should ever leave the stone
and glass and fabric and hospitality
that has enveloped me in this lofty balcony.
Below the waters are warm. The bodies
are near and brown, living out temporary
yet simple days, their imperfections hidden
beneath the moonlight, their conversations distant,
Calming and inviting. It takes almost nothing
to remove myself from a world a million miles
away; takes a conscious effort to check out
and return with nothing but a vestigial drawing.
original version penned nineteen ninety-eight
rewritten and recorded july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
imagine marine-like monsters
inhabiting the darkest of waters
their bodies shaped simply
their fins rudimentary yet powerful
propelling themselves instantly
jetting at reckless speeds
and abruptly halting to a standstill
they are neither here nor there
and represent a constant terror
to those who slip into their world
their world is an antithesis
to the dreams we fabricate
and even in the wildest of our
fascination we realize their depths
are unreachable
their darkness too deep to see
even a flicker of light
leaving us unable to conjure hope
or understand the underworld
unless we sell our soul
and give in to the other side
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 