jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “moon”

green will always be your eyes


here we are back on the moon
like it was nineteen sixty-nine
year of the miracle mets

oh how I remember it well
my dear friend
staying up all night
fighting demons disguised
as russian cosmonauts

so many years later
I’m reminded in song
being with you girl
is like being stoned
a million miles from home

they say the sun is blue
when running free
on the dark side of the moon
where gravity loves company
and green will always be your eyes




july two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

millions of dollars at stake


rehearsing and rewording
keeping eyes and ears open
millions of dollars at stake
electric cars racing faster
than any combustible engine
ever placed on this earth
all buckled in and good to go
demigod voices streaming
through AM radio
promising surprises in the end
eyes no longer focused on the road
rather on waxing gibbous
slowly appearing above
the imaginary shoreline




july two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

early evening reading


it’s early she said
there’s plenty of time to recreate
the world as you know it
won’t you take a long break
and come play with me

from what I could gather
she’s the one wanting to recreate
that which she’s been reading
nearly naked on the bed for an hour now
her freshly shaven legs
like parallel images of crescent moons




june two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

a thief in the night


remember way back when
making noise with anything
we could get our hands on

seems I’m still trying to do that
without even realizing

out back in the sandbox
sometimes we play nice
sometimes not so much
depending upon
what’s up for grabs

oh how I cried when my
queen conch was stolen
in broad daylight
her smile and stories
stripped away in a heartbeat

fast forwarding into a future
where the night remains fixed
I find comfort knowing
so too will the moon
and all she has to hide





may two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

too many moons


we started out just as the sun
was giving it a rest
picking you up right on time
just as we had planned

we were cruising down
first avenue
and you were reading me
my horoscope
laughing in between chugs
of tall boy budweiser

tom petty was singing
in the background
something about rolling
another joint
and your eyes lit up
and I pressed on the gas

next thing I knew
we were chasing down
too many moons
right out of this well lit county
and into the next




february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

stealth maneuvers and vanishing moons


the moon is always there
whether you see her or not
whispering sweetly
when you’re fast asleep
or screaming relentlessly
when you can hardly breathe

sleet and rain join forces
pounding rooftops and
concrete sidewalks
tearing up the scenery
with ongoing ruthlessness
— but inside all is calm
fire burning slowly and barely
audible in the den as you
stride effortlessly from room to room
occasionally peering out
the octagon-shaped window

she is here inside this place
[you tell yourself] over and
over and over again
I know for a fact she is here
but the house is empty
[save yourself]
outside the sky is nonexistent
while inside all that remains is an image
running madly through your mind




february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

120 moons


when life can’t get any better
something hits you with
indiscriminate authority
leaving you reeling and rewinding
forcing you to go underground

fast forward and here you stand
garden spade in hand
having dug your way out
over a period of 120 moons
well rested after presumed dead

the old outer you no longer exists
unlike your inner revolution
which continues to evolve
redefining a checkered past
with a future that has no end




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

so far away from the sea


zero to twenty
seemingly a lifetime
long ago microfilmed
now locked away
in a seashell vault

footprints on reflective beach
washed away ages ago
moon phase
after moon phase
erasing whatever proof
there may have been

out in the deep blue sea
young sailors
become old men in a single season
long off course
and desperately sober
stuffing farewell messages
inside empty beer bottles




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the law of attraction


I surrender to the wind
like a kite without a tether
sailing across a sea of change


I’ve been in love before
but this time it was too late
for you see I simply drifted past
the pulling of the tides
becoming closer to the moon
than anything else




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

looking beyond the darker side


wherein your frustrations lay
a memory resides worth unearthing
buried beneath fortunes good and bad
a reminder of better times ahead

emotions tied to the ebb and flow
whether near the sea or far from shore
and strung along by hypersensitive moon
swim in your tumultuous waters

waves of intensity arise unannounced
testing your capacity for compassion
a merry reminder there’s nowhere to hide
when violet-backed starlings come around




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

striking a balance


autumn nearing its end
solitary specter regressing
roaming empty streets and alleys
digressing on thoughts of love
bemoaning intellectual wisdom

safehouses have no vacancy
full moon gives little solace
though somewhere in the city
a fire burns with purpose
bringing the dead back to life




november two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

and they called it paradise


if you brush aside the obvious
you will find seeds have begun
to sprout
in what was once known
as paradise

I first met you there
when the moon was but a mural
germinating in the back
of our minds

how we talked about
painting the sky
when the sun
was nowhere to be found

just when everything
seemed to be perfect
the world
burns to the ground
the story resorting
to starting all over again

and those seeds
once clenched in your fists
are forever scattering




november two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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