I dreamed in a prior life
we spoke another language
the strangest of worlds
becoming all too familiar
there is this other place
far away from home
where certain spoken words
take on greater meaning
intuitively we are drawn
chasing what is ours
whether intrinsically so
or rightfully speaking
august two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I often retell the same stories
or so I’m told
but I keep thinking I stopped doing that
once moving out of the basement
how many years has it been now
I ask mostly myself
but I remember a complete stranger
once say it’s been nine years
that was at least six seasons ago
but as far as I’m concerned
the war is never over
even though ambassadors assure me
quite confidently
otherwise
I’ve not held a job since moving
out of the basement
even though I’m told I’m as hireable
as the next one
but who wants to be the next one
not me I tell the pretty lady with a
pencil and bic pen stuck in her hair
tri-folding papers and reciting old lines
I go on to tell her
all I really need these days
are some cans of spray paint
and the next good idea
usually conjured in my head
during the overnight hours
planted there by an apologetic god
september two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
love me once I said
and I will love you forever
and though quite frequently
we breathed the same air
eventually we went
our separate ways
millions of miles later
I somehow convinced myself
I didn’t deserve to be loved
and so I set a course
in the opposite direction
at first you wrote often
but never did you tell me
what I so desperately wanted to read
and when I wrote back
my sentences were filled
with lies disguised as inner rhymes
eventually all communication
would cease to be
and years later
I would find myself
reminiscing of those days
that may have never existed
leaving me imagining
what true love must be
july two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’m not going to space without my cat
I told them
and all of sudden they start this foolish
talk about bumping me
It’s a little too late for that don’t you think
I tell them
and a day later
they agreed the cat can go
may two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the good doctor told me the pain
manifested from my mind
from repressed emotions
determined to breach the surface
of course I knew that was unlikely
since I had already committed
to hundreds of the tiniest of needles
designed to free my malevolent spirits
may two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it seems like the month of may again
let’s have a parade
lay down your arms
and raise the white flag
for the prince is born this day
embrace these times of peace
and promise to never let go
may two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Mama always sat on the glider
on the front porch, slightly
swinging and knitting away
on a scarf or such,
looking up every now and then
to keep tabs on her chickens.
january two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 