I’ve been working on my breathing
—or more specifically
depriving my body of oxygen
now & then throughout
the course of the day
something I’ve determined
should give me a competitive edge
in the long run
march two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it can’t be stopped
except by total annihilation
and even then
maybe not
death is the epitome of the definition
no matter how you look at it
wave after wave
contributing to the grand scheme of things
but when it happens
right there in your own backyard
it mainly gives you a perspective
you’ve probably always had
the universe is less random
than may appear in the side view mirror
but then again
just about anything
could blow up at anytime
january two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
something’s missing
though I don’t know what it is
I imagine if I saw it
a bell or two would ring
I suspect it isn’t tangible
but if I could touch it
I would have to question
its authenticity
would have to wonder
whether whatever it is
could make it to the next world
I am destined for
you can’t take it with you
or so I’ve been told
leading to the age-old question
why the hell not
november two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we always looked
in all the wrong places
proving that like a falling star
physicality is fleeting
and that movement in thought
is an alternative means
of public transportation
as children we would spend
an entire afternoon
in the cemetery
mindful of the phrase
why do you seek the living among the dead?
hopeful in finding some sort of
peace of mind
or perhaps uncover
a material clue or two
—as to why
we were there in the first place
november two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
tell me why
the air is so stifling
suffocating my every breath
as I lay dying
for the third time
in as many nights
my heart at rest
and barely beating
tell me why
I keep awakening
with a sudden spasm
an invisible hand pushing
against the dead weight of a body
refusing to move
as if signaling
tonight is not the night
september two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
hours before the dawn
I lay awake on my deathbed
breathing shallowly
the nasty weather outside
superseding any other sound
that may be coming out of my mouth
my only fear is that if I fall asleep
all hell will break loose
my mind stuck in heavy mode
processing reality into dreams
projected from my narrowly open eyes
onto the ceiling above me
june two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
one day I won’t be a burden
spoken about on rare occasions
about hummingbird feeders
the old convertible in the garage
some stories will be harsh
others fatally funny
near death experiences retold
—the runaway character
the recluse looking down upon the sea
I never expressed final wishes
but once imagined being a tree
planted along the cedar
just as she succumbs to the iowa
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
skyscrapers rise & fall
no thanks to mere mortals
able to destroy that which they build
like a flawed god
constantly seeking attention
the gradual unfolding of a field
exposing all that is real
be it friend or flora or foe
young & old bones alike
buried so far below
bricks build these roads
one on top of another
a city layered in storied centuries
living & dying & born again
like a tulip or a monarch
september two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
sirens sounded
the crows & ravens took off from their stations
carrying messages of survival in their dna
one arrived on my fence post
half a day after the warning
sturdy & stoic & talking in a language
only I would understand
of course he arrived prematurely
this much he knew
for the skies became more colorful
allowing me to admire the varying
degrees of darkness in his wings
within the hour he departed on his
own accord
probably to where the water was rising
leaving me to my one device
and my mixed emotions
september two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
new blooms move with the arc
of the perennial sun
stretching their necks
& blinking their eyes
wide open to brand new ideas
the earth has become
more than an orbiting sphere
to mere mortals
a linear timeline from pre-fossil
to garden of eden
babylon to peloponnese
old paris to present day chicago
flower window boxes
simplistically shows how far
we’ve actually come
artistically covering the atrocities
of past & present & future
watering hope & possibility
right here from the kitchen window
june two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
accusations fly by like wayward missiles
shot out of silos a half world away
landing god knows where and
making new holes to crawl into
there is no villain to kill in this tale
not one tying down fair damsels to the tracks
nor cloaking a wide smile with black cape
the hero here is incapable of rescuing even himself
instead seeks answers from faraway stars
like a prince without an inheritance
while remote weaponry circles the earth
the unsympathetic fool carries on
in an unforgiving world
deflecting whatever arrows brand his name
with an invisible shield called mortality
april fool’s day two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
who are we but pretend gods
unable to tame the time of day
huddled en masse on street
corners and freeways
and white-hot beaches
putting out fires and chasing
ambulances
running away from tsunamis and
disease and ghostly dreams
practicing ego and yoga and war
and the finest of arts
orchestrating chaos by day and
reciting poetry at night
calling for real gods in a pretend
world to somehow set us free
november 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 am trapped inside this virtual
world where judgments
are issued without warrant
and disenchanted encoders
sip on encrypted whiskey
while laughing silently
without notice shots of pain
stream down the sciatica river
where boys sit on rocks
and pretend to fish
with artificial bait
waiting to steal my soul
june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
faces of friend and foe
come and go
but i must live on
using my own eyes
to scan the universe
and examine my soul
i hear of things
both good and bad
from those i think i know
but i am not to judge
what is not mine
for i must deal
with eternity
on my own terms
i imagine what happens
in three dimensions
will take on new meaning
once riding my pale horse
off into the sunset
september two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 