jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “poem”

surveyor


I am outside of my body again
taking a test flight & practicing diving
like a gannet in the bay of biscay

come winter the wicked storms
will be the fiercest in recent memory
forcing my eventual return

living below the surface
I manage to experience flashbacks
of a life high above the sea





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

with little to no effort


they say it’s time
to roll stones down the hill
and pick up rocks
along the water’s edge

it’s a solitary affair
an out-of-body experience
meant to leave you questioning
what could possibly
come next

you feel the eyes
of the earth & land & sea
watching your every move
including slinging rocks
toward the moon
and rolling stones
up the long lost forgotten hill





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

Repossessing the Kingdom of Edom


We invited the prophet for supper
because we were not afraid


The Father told us about Obadiah
about his warnings of destruction
as a consequence of action

Having become students of the living
and of the dead (and especially of those
capable or rising again) naturally we
were anxious in making a connection

Although we possessed many questions
the most obvious rallied around
his postmodern interpretation
to the Day of the Lord





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

dying in interesting times


it looks like the end is near
as if nineteen sixty-one
were alive & well

this time the pigs
have been replaced by bats
[though having gone by the wayside]
replaced by carefully selected letters
from the greek alphabet

too many distractions
from all parts of the world
locking down & opening up
the new flavor of the day
comes in any color except
eggshell white

we’re not allowed to discuss
certain things anymore
elected officials having become
jokers & clowns
publishing numbers by way of tweets
and scaring all the children
who have little time left to live





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

insomnia


the end is near

explosions are only the beginning

the people ran from the enemy within
emptying ten story buildings in a matter

of mere minutes

I swear you were born yesterday
and now you are dying like the rest of us
at some point there is no looking back
there is only the explosions

the earth has died many times before
only to come back more beautiful than ever

like the calm before the storm





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

living in this necessary evil


there is this reality
that we don’t know about
other than through dreams
and from there
we are left in the dark

inside the matrix
is another form of reality
one we rarely get a glimpse of
maybe by way of a dream
inside of a nightmare

it’s like that window
or that mirror
replicating itself ad infinitum
possessing you without question
taking to all the places
you’ve known throughout
the course of human history

in the meantime
(and for some unknown reason)
this present day reality
remains a necessary evil





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

boots on & off the ground


so what else is new
I heard someone say
talking to nobody in particular

they were on their own
fully armed & marching lazingly
as if in a trance

local reporters ran
with their camera people
out of breath & reaching out
with their absurd microphones

of course nothing was going on here
it’s just an exercise one said
yeah we’re just exercising
others chimed in

rumor has it the boomers
are to blame for why people are dying
to live on the moon
further blurring the difference
between fact & fiction
much like how
parade routes are now advertised
as just another way out





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

poetry reading


it’s not the first time the well
has run dry
but this time it’s different
as if the entire world
is at war with itself

there’s a poetry reading
in czech village tonight
rescheduled from a year ago
when the world had
suddenly stopped turning

word of mouth advertising
is touting it as the place to be

all guns must be checked in at the door
but spirits should be running high
the spigots flowing freely

and all the poets have promised
a new world can be found there
if only your mind will allow it





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

coexisting in the exosphere


I’ve got this new wrist rocket
and have quickly learned
to positively contribute to the growing
amount of space debris
orbiting this colorful planet

the trick I’ve come to learn
is selectively picking
the right size & type of object
ones that can readily break through
the seven layers of the atmosphere

after an afternoon of wreaking
havoc with such worldly adventures
it may take weeks or months or even years
to refuel before locking & loading
the next privately held payloads





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

on adopting a new motto


I’m trying to break
my extreme fever in an
unorthodox way
plenty of jack & coke
and an occasional bump
from the bat

for days I’ve been saying
“fuck it” like that green beret
in the wedding scene
of “the deer hunter”
tipping his glass
and showing a wry
smile in the end

before the next sunrise
my fever vanishes in thin air
but in order to resume
to my once ordinary life
I’ll have to get a free pass
from the good doctor





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

micrometeorite


I understand there’s a second moon
orbiting crazily the planet earth
nothing like the luna we’ve come to love & idolize
but more like a rock
one that you hold in your hand
making it either warmer or cooler
throwing away as high & as far as you like
wondering if it will ever come back





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

Fast forward to Bethany


I won’t be able to return
not without a password reset
the chances of success
appearing to dwindle by the day

The cranes brought forth the wind
by way of their transitory wings
with it the seeds of the wildflower
and the stench of the skunk

The enemy of humanity
persists well beyond Lazarus
giving new names to old towns
and rewriting the course of events





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

with winter in mind


a full frost moon
rises & grows & shines
through the leafless elms
yawning & stretching
toward the opposite horizon
a dark red sky
overtaking cirrus clouds
gradually fading
into a deep purple
succumbing to the night





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

the tavern at the top of the hill


I’ve lost interest in certain things
idle threats & sharp objects
exaggerated intimidation
designed by flawed intentions

underneath where I’m buried
there are no bones to dig up
no cellphones to unlock
no transcriptions to interpret

I’ve seem to have lost sight
of what’s not important
like replacing dead flowers
with yellow roses

the tavern at the top of the hill
has reopened unannounced
the one with no windows
& walled in futuristic graffiti





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

sheltering in the wood


the wind brought the robin’s
farewell song
briskly whistling through
the crabapple tree

high up in the sky
recycled machine parts
fall in a straight line fashion
picking up speed
but not disintegrating

the crabapple attracts
scores of robins
copping a buzz & chattering
like blue-haired biddies
at a mahjong tournament

no matter how fast
the wind blows westerly
it can’t forever prevent the sky
from crashing the party





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

in the most crowded of places


I saw the same red sky
you once told me about in your
second letter

always worlds apart
except for that one time
back in nineteen seventy-nine

I once wrote my heart
was breaking
that time you were in the hospital
keeping your sister alive

though I never heard
from you again
I frequently find your face
in the most crowded of places





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

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