jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “fire”

exorcising external conflicts by fire


it’s late august & something
is very very wrong

nobody can put their finger on it
but then again
nobody really tries
instead it’s finger pointing
and a bunch of global
[counterproductive] exercises

breakfast is dinner
won’t you come & join me
bacon & tomatoes & farm fresh eggs
yes you heard me right
anyone near or far
I’m out there ringing the bell
the cook’s in the kitchen
bats stirring in the attic

come in come in and take
your feet off at the door
there’s no surveillance here
no propaganda
no weapons
no contraband
only open air & open ideas
inside this roofless abode
where the rains fall & the grass grows
where the truth is acceptance
& lies are burned
down to the ground





august two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

we shall never have to die again


there we go
playing with fire again
believing that finding our way
is by way of light

every night we die a slow death
only to be reborn
morning after morning
neither learning by past mistakes
nor desirous of trying something new

instead we go back to the fire
believing we can conquer it
believing if only we can make it last
throughout the night
we shall never have to die again





july two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

a sliver of hope


tied to the tracks
the rabbits never had a chance
if the train didn’t do them in
the fire certainly would
rampaging uncontrolled
throughout the wild wild west

they had family
spread throughout the valley
there was a sliver of hope
tied to the tracks
these sisters in arms
calling upon the september rain

years have passed
since the last train arrived
the next one expected
to barrel in like a fireball
wiping out everything in its path
tied to the tracks or otherwise





august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

setting yourself on fire


sometimes you say things
and as the very words filter through
already you’re kicking yourself

why would you even go there
quickly discovering by doing so
will likely trigger an adverse reaction

it’s like setting yourself on fire

and so what do you do
but return to a world that once was
unable to speak what’s on your mind
a simple but caustic affirmation
that you’re still a child in disguise




july two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

caught inside the crossfire


stars rise and airplanes crash
it’s simply a matter of fact

some are easily seen
while others fly under the radar
undetectable by programmable spotlights
trained to find the impossible

from way up high everything looks fine
like peaches & cream accentuated
with dark chocolate
& sweet kisses

it’s hard to spot blemishes & skirmishes
from a million miles away
fires burning down cities
look like street lamps lighting up rain-soaked streets

alleys & avenues are drenched with fire
local aircraft either hovering or grounded
the stars of the sky eerily absent
unable to be wished upon




may two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

better run thru the jungle


february is on my mind
but she’s nowhere in sight
pretend morning fog
whispers in my ear
you’ve got no place to go

so I curse the winds
stuff suffocating thoughts
inside my pockets
telling myself
one day I’ll see the light

I keep waking up
in the middle of the night
trees burning brightly
firefighters fighting
for a clear path out




january two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

experimenting with burnt umber


she says she keeps putting out fires
but I have no idea what she means
afterall she spends her days in studio
throwing colors on canvases
only to whitewash them a few days later

I tell her I really like those inferno pieces
lava flowing into the sea
destroying everything in its path
upper story skyscrapers burning uncontrollably
tiny people waving white flags out windows

it’s all too depressing she tells me
too much like real life
I’d much rather come up with
something unrealistically fashionable
like butterflies or dragonflies
rescuing fallen angels from the gates of hell




may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

earth wind and fire


men at work with picks & shovels
unseen in the cemetery
some working ditches
others tape-measuring rectangular
holes in the ground

the youngest and strongest
roll boulders from river’s bank
straight up to monks and artisans
stationed atop copperhill

chisels and files and sandpaper
further refine godly physiques
resurrecting new life from the fire
that never stops burning





december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the day the music played


fire and rain baby
that’s where it’s at
whether it be on vinyl
or flatscreen tv

you said you were just
gonna borrow it
but years went by
and you never did give it back
no you never did
(you never did)

there are no apologies
necessary
I’ve since moved on
now that compact discs
have arrived
not to mention youtube
and itunes
partaking in yoo-hoo
or root beer

friday night it was late
and I had no place to go
except for quietly tapping my foot
fire and rain
playing in the background



september two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

controlled burning


sunspot settles into eight o’clock
quite content hanging out there
for as long as I can recall

in the field old men split seasoned wood
boys gather and stack neatly
building towers three times their size

birds and clouds passing by routinely
aided by westerly breeze
pushing forward suspended sun

transitioning perfectly seamless
natural light surrenders
controlled flames reaching for the stars



july two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

sacrificial is the light


out in the fields
bonfires consume the air
pushed by the wind and shoving back
sparkling like stars
and speaking in new tongues

eons away prehistoric microlife awaken
hypnotic and unknowingly
attracted to the light
traveling at the speed of a lifetime
before effortlessly giving in
with unmitigated enthusiasm


february two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

second story rescue


I’ve been here before
I recognize the painting on the wall
recall being inside this second story
room with drapes flowing out like fire

below in the courtyard
chickens and children scramble about
and I squint my eyes peering
past hills rolling into my heart

everything is moving away from
my current line of vision
and I stand bent over and desperate
reaching out to be rescued





january two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

spider queen


santa ana winds fan
the flames and further
separate the queen
from her entourage

armed with rain clouds
pawns venture in unafraid
questing to rescue the
queen of the stone age

her king relocates castle
closer to the shoreline
petitions clergymen
for a wing and a prayer

backed into a corner
queen abandons her netting
races with her babies
spraying pepper mace


june two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

earthbound and elemental


she keeps old zippo
and stick matches
stashed inside denim pockets
just in case something
ever needs starting

innocent dragons
breathe in knowledge
exhaling old world ideas
to winded children
dying for fresh air

oceans rock and roil
worshipped by clouds
parading as aliens
showering the coast
inexorably

deep within the soil
life awakens
stirred by foot driven shovels
uncovering rock
never before seen


january two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

sixth trumpet

from the book of revelation


the sixth angel stood by
knowing well in advance
once the trumpet had sounded
three plagues would break out
throughout the lands

not a soul seemed to fear
the voice from the four horns
of the golden altar instructing
the release of the four angels
bound at the river euphrates

once cut loose they amassed
two hundred million mounted troops
the horses with heads like lions
spewing fire and smoke and sulfur
directly from their mouths

the riders wore breastplates
of fiery red and dark blue
and yellow like sulfur
their horses transmitting disease
wiping out a third of mankind

despite the carnage the world
refused to repent of murder
and thievery and idol worshiping
neither abandoning magical art
nor the work of their hands



june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

how deep is the sea


sitting cross-legged on the floor
my mind shut the door
and i was left alone
in the dark
with a candle and a match

i closed my eyes and focused
on a fire burning in the belly
of a giant fish that swallowed me whole
delivering me to unfathomable depths
where indescribable creatures
ruled an invisible world

as ocean waves crashed on top of me
the door violently swung open
and the room became drenched
with natural light
my hand still holding
the unlit match
the candle
nowhere to be found



january two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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