jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “poem”

one beautiful life at a time


you reflect & wonder
how it was
you escaped death
(after all these years)
recounting on 1.4 hands
those near-
death experiences


each one a story
unto themselves
you tell your invisible friends
but since this is a poem
the details will be vague
& the metaphors
plentiful

where there is smoke
there is humanity
attempting to put out fires
romantic truth-seekers
watching the world
casually destroying itself
one beautiful life at a time




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

as dangerous can be


At least 150 killed in nationwide shootings this July 4th weekend
                                        New York Post Headline (5-Jul-2021)


something has always been stirring
in all territories in america

even before the signing
these lands were as dangerous
as dangerous can be
in constant motion from east to west

back to back national celebrations
only add to the anxiety
the killing machine incapable of pausing
well oiled well before
the first lynching
gangs as ubiquitous as interstate commerce
guns as common as salt & pepper

anything previously written
has become red-lined & dissected
a new focus on the intent
and the consequence
novel interpretations turning into
the latest conspiracy
an age-old melting pot
violently redefining itself




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

an unambiguous afternoon


it’s too hot to be boiling water
but what else are you supposed to do


there are people being buried alive
& all you have is a flat tire
something tells me you should be
counting your blessings

having been stranded
on the highway for a good hour
one starts to wonder if you can
overdose on vitamin D
the answer is yes & no
but certainly not from the sun

there is too much ambiguity
coming from too many sources
one good reason why things don’t
always go as planned

you tell the tow truck operator
one has to listen first
in order to understand
he nods his head & replies
that is absolutely correct





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

Area 319


Forget about point of no return
this is where it’s happening


With nearly 9000 square miles
there are plenty of spaces to land
be it on urban or rural ground
or anyplace above or below

The invasion was barely recognizable
all citizens going about their business
as if everything was normal
but in reality the world
was undergoing a change
and whether for better or worse
this is where it started





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

graduating to a higher plane


[I’ve nothing left to confess to
unless of course
I plan to do it all over again]


did you happen to see
what jimmy had to say
he was in the barber shop yesterday
tooting his rusty horn
saying something about
your sister or your mother
or some other
female body
sending shivers
up & down his spine

mama told me
I can’t go there no more
& so here I reside
occupying the upper west side
collecting flies
& working on grander designs




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

meet me at tokyo bay


the wind is picking up
bringing us closer to tokyo
than previously announced


we are lost inside
this smallish planet
inside a slightly larger planet
like a shell within a shell
(within a shell)

new york can go to hell
these omniscient lights
convey greater meaning
mainly due to carbon dating

released from our cages
we are free to roam
like damselflies & dragonflies
coexisting in the city center




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

a poem for the deaf


though stars are exploding
the night is silent again
settling into my chair
I smell something in the air


seeing things you can’t
is not easy to explain
heavenly bodies circling
around your ears
curious angels
pacing in the hallway

passion suppressed
words I was supposed to hear
trapped in wooden boxes
I sit on them
while pretending to sing

it’s not easy to listen
to anything you have to say
I nod like I understand
and look away

this place is more beautiful
with the stereo plugged in
the orchestra in the pit
the applause & the awe
beating inside my head




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

poem of the dead


I’ve heard a thousand times
how the monarda
was afraid to die
but always came back to life
next march or april


you tell me I might be
just like the bee balm
practicing the art
of resurrecting
without realizing
what was going on

if I go diving
from the top of the bluff
where below is nothing
but blue sky & oswego tea
will you follow
and repeat after me




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

pardon me


Thinking of combustication as a welcomed vacation from
The burdens of the planet earth
Like gravity, hypocrisy, and the perils of being in 3-D

                                        Brandon Boyd


it’s getting late
I’ve not a single thing to say
except perhaps
I’m thinking of bursting
into flames

maybe I’ve been listening
to the wrong voices
as of late
but for some reason
they seem to make
more sense
than anyone else

I’ve not seen the moon
for days on end
yet the ground is dry
& the air is stagnant
I look at my hands
and repeat to myself
these are not mine

it’s getting late
& I’ve gathered all the
combustibles I could find
now is the time
to give these fireflies
a show of their lifetime




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

reversing the future course of events


I’m done counting my blessings
you see there’s nothing left
I’ve bundled them into packages
& shipped them off to those
who need them more than me

I just gave my last interview
did my best not to say
I don’t give a shit anymore
was quick to bite my tongue
instead talked about the children

needing more than ever before
how without the blessings
they’re destined to become
something we’ve never seen
in all of human history




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

like open doors


I used to belong in a certain space
until I was told to move on


nobody said anything in so many words

it’s funny how sometimes your shadow
precedes you
giving you a vantage point
you wish you never had

but the fact remains the sunset
mends the darker side of yourself
allowing a brief perspective
into how things could have been

at some point you no longer feel lost
no longer feel dead
the world spinning faster than before
more real
than you could have imagined




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

final resting place


this ranch is for sale
the one just outside the city
the one I told myself I’d
buy in a heartbeat
if it ever went on the market

I can see myself dying there
I easily convince myself
surrounded by apple trees
and two or three horses
grazing on grasses
bushes & other leafy greens

I’ll find this shady spot
where I can dig the entire summer
my final resting place
I tell my younger daughter
when she comes to visit
for the very last time




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

rhetorically speaking


I’ve always believed in karma
and so have you
explain to me what’s keeping
us continuously separated
like two birds passing in opposite
directions in broad daylight


the sidewalk has plenty of chalk
simple designs
like hopscotch & rainbows
leading to more complex shapes
familiar faces laughing & crying
open arms reaching out

you say we need to return
back to where it all began
of course I answer
is it even possible
realizing the whole world
has become rhetorical




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

somebody else


fleeting beauty
always in fashion
coming and going
at her leisure
walking the thin line
between fact
and fiction
creating the rising sun
by reinventing
yesterday

somebody else
appears out of thin air
a grey ghost
or blue-eyed beauty
rising like the fog
or glorious sun
depending upon
what needs burning
and what needs
setting free




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

all that remains


there is sadness in the air
a serpentine line of sorrow
bending further away
from the front door

it will take hours before
all emotions abstractly implode
the long line subtracting
piece by piece
until all that remains
is an empty space




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

waiting on monday


my head’s been out of the game
far too long
for example I don’t even know
what day it is

sometimes that’s okay
not knowing how much you got
left in the tank
or whether or not the market
ever returned to your favor

of course the markets are closed
on sundays
that much I suddenly remember
while charting the sky
on a cloudless night




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

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