jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “poem”

messing around with the tape recorder


I think this time we shall start
in the middle
letting the mechanisms
work in reverse for a while
before fast-forwarding
beyond death

how many names
will you recall
how many faces will you recognize
some distorted & some
in pristine condition
(on account of having died
so young)

keeping yourself in the center
[or the middle if you will]
does have its advantages
allowing the opportunity to learn
from past experiences
leaving the creative
& the motivated
to figure out the future
all for themselves




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

playground


where am I
everyday finding myself
in a new place
not a one of them
familiar

some places are cutting edge
others seemingly ancient
everywhere steadfast faces
taking to the imperfect streets
doing only what they know

silence follows
as evening turns to dusk
the heavens open
I am lost in thought
stargazing

always faraway like tomorrow
I practice patience & passion
eyes locked on the dark sky
believing I’ll awaken yet again
to this place I call playground




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

not so breaking news


it’s no wonder people are suffering
from a great depression

it has little to do with the state of the economy
and more with the states of minds

instant gratification has gone by the wayside
replaced by a reality that it takes
a certain mental fortitude
to remain on top of your game

you don’t need a newspaper
to read the headlines
broadcasted daily loud & clear
by way of clouds high up in the sky

with school out for summer
kids duck & run & roll the dice
some winning & others losing
from neglect & abuse & forty-fives

and those incapable of fending
for themselves
fall behind in so many ways
far too many contributing
disturbing stories
overtaking the nightly news




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

the great commutation


this isn’t happening
we’re all just living inside
a stephen king novel

who needs conspiracies
when you’ve got bats
mating with humans
creating the genesis of a
multi-generational super race
later known to be called
the delta dominant

the vaccinated are like
workers bees
bowing to their queen
promising to keep the world
in working order
while the highest of the higher-ups
strategize & forever change
the end game




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

break on through


a door closes another one opens
leaving you standing there
more concerned with what
you may have missed
rather than moving forward

you tell yourself there are flowers
behind the closed door
beautiful & bright & sporting
all the colors of the world

if you had only clipped them
before it was too late
you could have passed them on
to those you admire most

the only screams you hear
are from the inside
overwhelming the messages
streaming through the open door




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

Shadow


Welcome to the corner shop
called Shadow
its doors are always open
its prices reasonable


Spend the night if you wish
and travel back in time
find your primitive instincts
and marvel at your survival

Wind down the hallway
of yesterday and rediscover
the seat of creativity
guiding you toward the light

Accept the token Shadow
as you reenter reality
a reminder your inner child
comprehends eternity




june two thousand twenty-one
original written september two thousand eleven
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Josephine


We watched the aquamarine sky
on a hot summer night
neither saying a word
though both screaming inside

I knew you were already gone
but we continued to hold hands
as if to say nothing will change
despite the obvious facts

You were always so good to me
though I never knew why
frequently sad but in a good way
I keep your wistful smile by my side

They never understood
the magic that we shared
and now that the sun is sinking low
we’re bound to rise together again




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

gravitational pull


she moved from room to room
her feet never touching the floor
wanting to believe she was real
I pretended we were dancing

lights were low & hopes high
for the very first time I felt like
I was closer than ever to the center
your world gravitating toward mine




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

the quiet earth


the ocean pulls back
& the moon
wanes
unattended smoldering
slowly advancing


call it a slow burn
if you will
call it a cleansing
a purging
fire on the water
strangely inviting

the earth has never
been this quiet
the airwaves nearly vacant
except for what
the stars
& the quasars giveth




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

the last of the subway series


going into the eighth
anything could happen
for you see
the fat lady has yet to sing

yogi nods to casey
who pulls the starter
& that’s when it all starts
to unravel
the say-hey kid
dancing around second

in the right field bleachers
all the fans boisterously sing
ninety-nine bottles
of beer on the wall

of course it all comes
crashing down
when mister coffee bounces
into a double entendre
thereby passing the torch
onto number seven himself




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

back into your busy world


how far you’ve roamed
little lamb
chased away by barking dogs
on the hunt for a scent
nothing to do with
the likes of you


further lost day after day
tip-toeing on pins & needles
the rock tricky
& occasionally vertical
hopefully opening to a surprise
on the other side

another sleepless night
gave way to northern winds
bringing with it
dreams of the future
retracing countless steps
back into your busy world




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

lost in late june


it’s late but not that late
the sun nowhere in sight
little ones out back yelling
where did it go
where did it go


nobody knows where the
butterflies went
chased away by roman candles
someone did say
someone did say

lost in deep thought
trapping stars in glass jars
smaller than fireflies
falling from the sky
falling from the sky




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

from the kitchen window


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

prime numbers & secondary colors


use your words
written or spoken
or by way of signing
all depending upon
how you see yourself
at the moment

at times words
simply won’t do
like when jesus upturned
tables at the temple
or elvis attaining
his isolated lowest

and what about those
outer body episodes
when all you have
are prime numbers
and secondary colors
to express yourself




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

nineteen ninety-nine


they were small samples
but they were perfect
neat & tidy & filed away
in the cooler

this place is so secure
maybe not like fort knox
or maybe even more

even if I gave you
my (pass)word
or my barcode
the window to my soul
my first born or my last breath
you’d struggle
to get past the gate

as if in a flashback
we find ourselves
hanging out in the cooler
passing around bits & pieces
subconsciously agreeing
how nineteen ninety-nine
was a killer year




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

early in the morning


hand me your dream
let me take it from there
let’s see how far
we can stretch the sky

it’s been ages
since I’ve heard voices
finally returning
to calm me down

I used to think angels
disguised themselves
as red wing blackbirds
restless by the roadside




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

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