the spirit guides are calling me
but I am unconcerned
—distractions & distrust
embedded in my psyche
pushing me outward (violently)
instead of pulling myself
(effortlessly) inward
I am projected into the mix
multimedia having a blast
playing head games
ancestors on the outside
unable to look in
the single door locked
and boarded in
—every window just the same
october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
when the terrorists moved in down the
street the other week
I worried nonstop for the safety of my children
and my two thousand twelve chevrolet
since moving in they’d been stockpiling
weapons in the two-car garage
when I called the police
they said there was nothing they could do
they’re living here legally
they said
and they’ve purchased the necessary
ammunition stamps
pausing with phone in hand
I stood looking out the bay window
watched the registered sex offender
(across the street and two doors down)
jump in his sports car and race away
my hands by my side I could barely hear the
officer on the other end repeatedly asking
hello hello hello
august two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
in the clouds the clowns
perform with their balloons
and wacky flowers
and superlative feet
making the children laugh and cry
leaving them wondering
why this world
is such a mysterious place
in the cloud memories
are stored so the children
can recall those days
of carelessness and glee
before forced into figuring out
how the clowns managed to
make this world
seemingly unforgettable
july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I stood in the kitchen dumbfounded
body leaning toward the counter
my arms stretched out
my hands gripping the edge
preventing me from falling straight down
once again short-term memory gaps
have poked holes into my productivity
the interruption of progressive thoughts
leading me down avenues of days long gone
like when I wore batman capes
and had real conversations with the mailman
I remember once when I was five
on an early sunday morning
all alone in the great room watching cartoons
my body laid out with elbows on the carpet
and chin resting inside my hands
when all of a sudden a dull clash
resonated from the kitchen and slowly
bounced it’s way into the great room
I dared not move one iota
as I stared into the kitchen
tall shadows moved about the inner walls
no doubt cast by the breeze nudging the evergreens
but I was petrified nonetheless
and hid like a stone waiting to be found
march two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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