jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “guns”

Getting his motor going


Billy got a gun
it’s been something he’s been
muttering about for years

He didn’t know what to do with it
once he got it
so he stashed it somewhere
(in the house)
and returned to his nondescript life

Billy got a gun
because he didn’t feel safe
but knowing he had one now
stashed somewhere in the house
made him feel like he could do anything
he set his motoring mind to



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Aim of the Gunfighter


I stand perfectly still
at dawn
my hands by my side
eyes frozen in time
staring fifteen paces ahead
focused on the pistol that once
taught me all I knew

If I should not live past this
moonless night
collect all the weapons
from inside my mind
and bury them deep by my side
as immeasurable treasure
in an unmarked grave



march two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

that gun in your hand


click click bang
reload your clip and
take aim of my heart

I don’t give a damn and
I don’t want to know
how you found the courage
to become someone you’re not

click click bang
bring me to my knees
and make me close my eyes
but just promise me one thing
promise me the world
won’t end tonight


february two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

where white flags sail high


we tested the water
by shooting bullets at it
then crossed to the
other side without missing
a beat

bullets never scare me
it’s the people who own them
that do
the ones who spend their
weekends at the shooting range
or the gamers club
or any dungeon of a basement
where m is for murder and
nothing else matters
where killing sprees can last
for hours on end

now that we made it
to the other side
to a place without war games
real or imagined
there was no reason
to remain on high alert
and with gratitude
we surrendered our arms



september two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

yesterday’s news


the headlines don’t concern me
unless I’m in them
or someone I know
and then I want to have some input
regarding the font type
and the font size
and all that jazz

I could just see myself
being that guy behind
the glass office saying
listen here I need a story
and I think I need it yesterday
so you better deliver
or else you’ll be buying
milk and bread with food stamps

next thing I know that dead-beat writer
is sticking one of those
spy gun slash ballpoint pens
underneath my chin
telling me he’s more than willing
to blast me all the way to the front page
for just a little notoriety




july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

just what the world needs


there are too many bad guys
running around.
they’re everywhere
and they make everyone nervous.

these bad guys either carry guns
or they have access to them
or they have whole armies
at their disposal.

there are too many bad guys
running around.
they go to school
or work for the private sector
or the public sector
or no sector at all.

the bad guys either work alone
or become organized as gangs:
some considered illegal
and some considered legitimate
depending upon your perspective.

there are too many bad guys
running around and can be found
anywhere on the planet.
just pick a spot.
they are on television
and some of them provide the news
about the bad guys in waterloo
or shanghai or timbuktu.

there are too many bad guys
running around and they aren’t
going away anytime soon.



january two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

shall we dance


i found myself without obligations
one saturday morning
and decided to ride jenny
down to the river
to parlor city where they
serve breakfast on weekends

the place was busy but i managed
to snag the last seat at the bar
and ordered a bloody mary
and hot skillet
full of meats and potatoes
and veggies and eggs

it soon became clear the clean
shaven gentlemen sitting next to me
was most likely smashed on vodka
perhaps even as high
as a champion kite

what do you do he hissed at me

i’m a poet i said shoving food in my mouth

there’s nobody smart enough in this town
to be a poet he slurred

i put my fork down and picked up
my bloody and took a healthy swallow

you listen to me i said using my best
dirty harry impersonation

i’m gonna go out to jenny and get
my colt 45
and if you’re still here
when i get back
i’m gonna make you dance


january two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

peace process


it’s too complicated
all these thoughts running
through the streets
without supervision
with blades strapped to ankles
and an arsenal of firearms
lining your inner pockets

forget the wars a half a world
away the one right here
is about to steal your freedom
unless you get off
your lazy ass and figure out
how to save yourself
before you’re blown away



january two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

high noon


the turtle faced
a daunting challenge
but figured if a one-trick pony
could beat a donkey
then offing the rabbit
with a colt forty-five
should be as easy
as getting
a gun permit



december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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