jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “music”

the idol maker


close your eyes & make a wish
it just may be your last

who’s next is playing
in the background
& suddenly you find yourself
in nineteen seventy-one

the current wars
aren’t much different than the old ones
especially when launched
by the eventual loser

but the music that ensues
the poetry yet to come
now that is beauty to the ears
turkey-noodle soup for the soul
[respectively]

you sit back & say things like
I remember when
or back in the day
everyone surrounding you
singing yeah yeah yeah
a chorus for the ages





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

smooth


the girl in the barrio
listened to the radio
every night
keeping the volume
as low as possible
so as not awaken
the others
the music soft
and soothing
as smooth as her skin
glowing from
the shine of the moon
her emotions
ruled by a heart
destined to understand
life outside these walls





february two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

czech village shuffle


it was cool at the microbrew
vinyls playing on turntable
jazz & blues & some rock & roll
streaming from the speakers
hanging from the ceiling

they take requests
or you can bring your own
tracks piped into the adjacent room
imbibers waltzing & grooving
to the likes of anyone’s guess

they say it’s the place to be
as long as the lights are low
—the barrels all aflow
hands & feet shuffling in & out
of the [corner] revolving door





january two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the show must go on


a little snare drum roll
feet tapping & fingers snapping
waiting on the vocalist
to enter center stage

where o’where could she be
all the faceless people
keep asking themselves
where o’where is the lovely
the talented
the beautiful vocalist

their faces slowly dissolve
into a sea of green
little red triangles floating
here & there
as if having no particular
place to go

soon the band of three
becomes two
& eventually only the percussionist
survives the wreckage
he & his little snare drum shaken
but taking requests
as if becoming the focal point
of the evolutionary
underwater show





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

something like poetry


idling on tokyo avenue
waiting for the light to turn green
boston blaring from coaxial speakers
back in the summer of seventy-nine

it’s easy to misremember
exactly how everything
went down in the day
but the music
that’s another story entirely
always open to interpretation





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

replaying the b-sides


the songs are always there
no copyright needed
you keep them on a shelf
in the air or deep within
on a rotisserie device
you created by following
the instructions
on a youtube video

in a prior life you played
piano in front of thousands
another time lead singer
in a pre-grunge band
the most memorable [however]
in non-performing roles
whether unencumbered in the loge
or all lit up in the mosh pit





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

knockoffs & supernatural forces


the merchant of deceit
bootlegging forty-fives of maria maria
& smooth & put your lights on
right there on the information superhighway
accepting any kind of coin without recourse

there is lawlessness on the proverbial streets
whether real or virtually above or underground
vendors of any kind on every corner
participating in the so-called great steal

the music is universally accepted
speaking to all of us freely in any language
priceless and without prejudice
we participate in the pageantry of it all
plugging the meter whenever necessary





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

into the garage


it doesn’t take long
to move things around
trashing all the obvious objects
leaf-blowing the floor
from one corner to the next
one time two times three
lastly valeting the vehicles
out onto the street


the love van backs up
contents emptying themselves
into the garage
anything needing power plugged in
keyboards & guitars
drums & cymbals all assembled
neighborhood curiosos
beckoned from their comfort zones




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

sabotage


beastie boys in moscow
everything’s

in black & white
an effort by the locals

to disguise the day & year
by keeping their kettle clean

there are no subtitles
translations or misunderstandings

the nights are always grey
and lights dimly bright

the music barely loud enough
to keep the youth at bay




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

bye bye american pie


where did all the songs go
the ones once playing in my head
when I needed them most

paused without incidence
abruptly held hostage in the cloud
silenced at gunpoint

the day the music died
sadly becoming a daily occurence
offline and in the streets

I’ve practiced enough drills
to last a second or third lifetime
yet somehow the songs
never seem to make it out alive




september two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

reworking dark love songs


I’ve been testing the limits of creation
laying down disco tracks and
introducing new lyrics certain
to get you up and dancing

I’ve been listening to ‘one of
these nights’ and practicing
the high harmony parts as if
I was a prepubescent teenager

I’ve been waiting by the telephone
line and thinking about your eyes
writing down every single line
entering my unmethodical mind




june two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

putting the band back together


I keep looking around
wondering when everyone
will wake up from the dead
and get back on with their lives

from what I understand
they’re still putting out live music
on streaming television
the kind where you can
stomp your feet and sing
right along with the band

weatherman says things
aren’t looking so bright
along the eastern shoreline
but we have our eyes cast
on the western horizon
where the sun perpetually sets

somehow we managed
to find ourselves on the same page
bags packed and fleet refueled
next stop isle of rhythm and blues





april two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

lost inside last encore


orchestra plays in the back of my mind
coming through not too loud
but perfectly clear
drowning out anything and everything
attempting to keep me alive

there are dozens of channels
scrambling in thin air
all of them wanting in on the action
dancing on the ledge of creation
like alternative rock & roll

others are eager to get involved
in my invitation only affairs
crawling in sprawling lines
imagining catching a glimpse of
yesterday’s american pie




september two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

“Miss You”


out of the gate he broke a guitar string
but he kept on playing as if
nothing happened
rest of the band maybe noticing
maybe not
rhythm section cool as could be
never missing a beat

it was a guest appearance
covering a Rolling Stones song
on and off stage in a mere six minutes
and he kept shredding that Fender
E string gyrating crazily
as if it was an orchestrated
part of the show




july two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

listening to singles on a friday night


she had this voice
sultry and sad
band behind her
rhythmically energetic
and ever so melancholic
mesmerizing really
freezing you in thought
and action

there is this trumpet
somewhere in the middle
a wake up call really
shaking you to the core
reminding you
how much you miss her voice
and how badly
you want her back again




march two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the violin and the piano


their sound supersedes the
clamor and the simmering pot
not quite boiling
not quite understood

the floors mean nothing
since they’ve been replaced
replaced but not restored
never to be the same

appearing out of nowhere
like a silver moon in disguise
the music filters through
making my world come to life

the violin and the piano
still echo in these walls
comforting my sorrow
and giving me repose


september two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: