jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “poem”

final curtain call


morning rains have yet to fall
but already I hear it pounding
repeatedly on the concrete
interrupting third act
of my long-standing dream

it’s impossible to control crowds
once making mad dashes
leaving lone gunman isolated
taking potshots at moon phases
painted on domed ceilings

smoke billowing out windows
deputies arrive from all over
precisely securing the perimeter
omniscient orders echoing
come out with your hands up




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

finding my way back home


I wander outside forgotten lines
once alive inside stories
brimming with possible salvation
now abandoned by the wayside

flashes of light dart in and out
of moss covered ravines
reminding me of one-eyed jackrabbits
racing on freshly paved roadways
testing the very laws of physics

whether in this century or the next
I’ve trained myself to exploit loopholes
and uncover wormholes
be it traveling stealthily into the future
or ever so slowly
finding my way back home




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

lying low


I’ve been waiting for low tide since daybreak
barefoot and hardly any place to go
save further into the well

red sky is but a memory I’ve long locked in
ever since I’ve been able to cry

tears eventually turn to celebrations
thrown by mere mortals
choosing times and places
your spirit is certain to be lying low




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

staying grounded


how dark it quickly becomes
while inside random lights appear
revealing the corner of your smile
sparking further conversations

off in the distance
thunder slowly rolls forward
majestically introducing itself
and its lowdown entourage

there must be love in the air
or so you say to yourself
winds approaching out of nowhere
from the south and west
and all points in between
twisting and turning and
shouting for all the world to hear

oh how I desire to witness
rains falling for the last time
but I’m far too busy reversing course
repairing damages previous
storms left behind




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

perpetual september


just because class is back in session
doesn’t mean summer is over

out in the country
barn doors are still not shut
horses running free
chasing southern sun falling fast

back in town old school windows
are thrown wide open
faces sticking out and tongues wagging
uninterested in arithmetic
doodling one wild idea after another

sometimes october never arrives
forever waiting in the wings
oh yes sometimes
september is simply perpetual




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

cracking open the code to beauty and harmony


there is something inside you
secretly killing you
planted somewhere unknown
since the day you were born

there is no code to crack
to reveal its destructive nature
or its specific location
and because its existence
is secretly inside you
there is nothing to fret about

by the time the secret is finally revealed
the way in which it affects you
will in no way define
the rest of the story
you are bound and determined to tell




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

packing bags under moon and stars


artificial platform lifted up high
well lit by natural lights
so-called misfits down below
roaming incognito
drifting from stage to stage
seeking ways to remain unseen

they are called to act alone
though struggle to separate
themselves from the crowd
conscious of differences
whether it be in language
or religion or color of their plight

misunderstood by the masses
but certainly not complicated
they are the last to leave
after the lights have faded
belongings wrapped inside bandanas
tied to ends of bindlesticks




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

totem


western red cedar comes
crashing down
rife with folklore
and wisdom and superstitions
having witnessed
countless cycles of faceless moons
and meteor showers

transformations don’t happen
overnight
but they happen nonetheless
creative outcomes
contingent upon circumstances
commissioned by wealthy unknowns
or chief medical doctors

artisans speak without words
wielding gougers and adzes
and knives of all sizes
giving new life
to that which still breathes
carving out new creations
as if they are gods themselves





august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

reconstruction project


faces in the crowd
shed not a tear
assembled
peacefully in city square
collective expression
somber and lacking fear

clock tower strikes
thirteen times
midday sun hurries
behind dark clouds
hangman arrives
children duck and run

lessons relearned
nobody listening
history unrepentant
brokers exchanging
silver and gold
for black & white city




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

transcending still life


there’s no reason to explain anything
especially in visual art (and poetry)
splashing colors against the wall
shaping them with body and mind
sitting back and watching world digest

your eyes do not see what I see
deep inside me is this gut feeling
that you may never understand
as definable as graffiti under a bridge
some may find artistically beautiful
yet others politically incorrect

I’ve painted you so many times
I recreate your essence with eyes closed
as butterfly or flower or freshly fallen snow
each time your incarnation inspiring
new life into my own fading lights




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

black and white moving pictures


I must be missing something
if I’ve been to this place before
what’s keeping me from remembering

is it because of the poisons
inflicted by good-intentioned people
or did I do it to myself
by something as simple as free will

now that I find myself on the outside
looking in
I’m beginning to recall a thing or two
about this place
something along the lines that yes
I’ve probably been here before

as I struggle to find my voice
attempting to make sense of
black and white moving pictures
past slowly becomes present
present suddenly clearer than ever




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

beyond the veil of illusion


just sitting here drinking a beer
pocket knife and block of wood in hand
carving new notches in a made-up world
my worrisome thoughts going deep
unable to return to safety of shallow waters

from inside the house I barely hear
radio broadcasting inconsistent streams
coexisting with my troubled mind
carving deeper against the grain
steadily drifting along muted current




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

station to station


I found myself repeatedly moving the dial
clapping randomly at small somethings
flying in my face
sent in one by one by some
strange god testing my mid-summer mettle
uninterested in my inner well-being
let alone my outwardly comical countenance
instead secretly intercepting frequencies
concocting far worse consequences
involving matters of life and death




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

cemetery trees


candles are made to be lit
just as wishbones
are meant to be broken


I’ve no idea where they come from
but they just keep on giving
like there’s no tomorrow

yesterday’s best ideas are nothing
more than a passing fancy
notwithstanding indecipherable rhymes
capable of sneaking through cracks

around here we talk about what
will be or what may have been
all the while knowing full damn well
we’ve no intention of being caught
dead in our tracks






august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

snapshots of rainbows


we used to chase them just like we chased
butterflies and rabbits and tornados and daydreams
pretended to store them in mason jars in the cellar
(or the lower level as we like to say)
sealed tight and placed on web-laced shelves
like ordinary bottles of homemade beer or wine
or better yet experimental body parts
ensconced in formaldehyde
and though we talked at great length of our
supposed prized collection
nobody in their right mind dared go underground
to disprove their existence




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

one man band on the run


I had crossed the line
the one that I was warned about
and away I went into the night

search lights were summoned hours later
but by that time
I was into the next county
well heeled and map in hand
determined to cross the river by daybreak

there were plenty of supporters
along the way
all wanting in on the action
a piece of clothing
a selfie at the c-store
fingerprints on an empty water bottle

by the time I reached colorado
the hurried pace had finally slowed down
and I became as high as the mountains
at least for a night
or two or three or four

once I had returned back to earth
I became convinced nobody was on my tail
except for a small clan of brown bears
I must have stirred awake with my
recently acquired kawasaki




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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