we climbed the hill in laughter
losing our lunch boxes along the way
certain we’d be able to
find them on the way down
once on top we jumped at
pretend stars shining so bright
shouting into funneled hands
for the gods to strike us down
imagining owning all the hills
as far as the eye could see
the bad guys appeared out of thin air
and sent us tumbling
all the way back down
october two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
those voices inside his head
at times went missing for days
sometimes for weeks or longer
each time promising to never return
but the voices never really went far
and he would run into them
at the supermarket
or movies
at the bowling alley and speedway
fast food restaurants
and convenience stores
weeks went by and then years
the songs of his pluperfect past
fading in the background
like little birds left behind
whispering apologetically
pleading to be taken back in
safely inside his warm bed
he pulls a blanket up to his chin
and waits in silence for the
voices to return
october two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
taking trails less traveled
led me to where the
trees had fallen
where horses long ago
abandoned the woods
falling to my knees I
listened ‘neath the silence
felt inner earth’s heartbeat
inside my very bones
faintly alive and hurting
lost generations remain
charred in this place
recycled into ghostly ashes
reshaped into
ever-changing apparitions
silence ensued and robbed
me of all my thoughts
leading me to believe
the only way out was
through my imagination
october two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
friday night limousine riders
speeding some seventy
miles per hour
cut up lemons and dispense
margaritas without rocks
outside airport secret police
intercept intelligence and
issue search warrants
briskly escorting illicit riders
to a flight of their life
dropped behind enemy lines
grown boys sober up quickly
burning camouflaged parachutes
and skirting the edges
hoping to find their way home </span>
october two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’m afraid of losing it all
one day waking up discovering
I don’t have what it takes
to reach the next destination
Sometimes wish I could just
curl into a ball and
forget about paying attention
Sometimes wish I could just
venture out alone and
walk away into the winter sunset
I’ve been down this road before
but always found the
long way out
my misguided angels
eventually finding me
a new shiny amulet
Walking closer to the sun
I lighten my load and
tighten the grasp
discarding all regrets
october two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there is a storm brewing
simmering in a big black pot
stirred by faceless warlords
pretending life
doesn’t matter much
high winds blow madness
into the next town
precisely honed strikes
wiping out historic deception
as new chief lays down
new laws
war drums beat relentlessly
inside children’s dreams
bringing showers
to the desert and
drought to the streams
turning camels into arks and
temples into zoos
from the beginning we are told
there is no time to write home
there is only more life
and more land
to claim for our own
october two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
by Daniella Sciuto & J Matthew Waters
a mess of discarded words
surround the waste paper bin
a screwed up frustrating mishmash
of misbehaving poetry
sent to Coventry
the current state of affairs
keeps missing the mark
ideas bouncing off rims in silence
not even a dead klunk
to rattle my soul
to let me know
if I more accurately honed my aim
matched that rhythm zigzagging
in and out of my own personal alphabet
if I took an occasional Z
rhymed it with W instead
attached it to an A, B or C
would poetry suddenly
work for me
exhausted I pause
stare deep into the double-hung window
a handful of flies
trapped between the panes
gasping for fresh air
crawling and buzzing
schizophrenically searching
for the only way out
watching me in a frenzy
weighing up the worth
over-thinking the import
of a few lonely words
which my pen decides
to frantically override
in indigo ink
the day turns to dust
water turns to wine
turns to blood in a trice
I raise my ancient chalice
toasting and praying
to the poetry gods on high
for an ounce of inspiration
as I drift into stars
the night showers reams
of words falling free
my pen and my paper
and my mind all three
collaborate with the gods
to write dream poetry
in the morning I awake
feel the words as they bleed
dead flies on the sill
empty paper
empty pen
an empty state of mind
humble currents bring bountiful
trace elements and
serenity to the shoreline
introducing essential nutrients capable of
feeding the masses through next winter
alas the abundance is but an illusion
and once impenetrable clans
(feeding freely upon the land)
find themselves fighting behind the lines
find themselves questioning
their time and place in history
october two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
september’s death
rests inside a fielder’s glove
her final breaths elongated
lilting and fading
elegantly purposeful
she would not be happy
knowing what follows next
her boys of summer in full costume
exhaling the uncertain air and
parading out past twilight
clumsily swatting bats
september two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she survived the dark forest
with unimaginable courage
her recovery spectacular
though the past is incomplete
its mysteries will slowly dissolve
replaced by translucency
according to testimony of others
she is here for good reasons and
destined to do something special
september two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I swear I was wide awake
and drinking heavily
toasting george thorogood
and his glorious destroyers
we polished off the pony keg
a few hours before
moved on to bourbon and scotch
knowing there was more
rhythm and blues to be heard
later into the night we
found ourselves securely insane
in the backseat of an orange
nineteen sixty-seven mustang
we pretended to be carrying contraband
deep inside enemy lines
halfway across the centennial bridge
we empowered the traffic
to stop (with our minds)
and I jumped and shouted obscenities
and escorted my party to the other side
scaling the eight foot tall fence
I swore I was on top of the world
(reaching back I surrendered my weapon)
free of such burden I would soon realize
I always dreamed alone
september two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
by Daniella Sciuto & J Matthew Waters
I drew these lines ages ago without
understanding the consequences
and my desire to protect them
weakened as time wore on
I sketched these images
fast frenetic murals on the wall
portraying all my doubts
concerning this world
and myself
and then I lived on
each day passing by
these lines remained unchanged
concealed by a thin layer of imagination
I crossed the line into a new
form of reality
regaining my strength by
becoming one with creation
drawn across the land
yet the pull of these lines
that basis of all
beyond the veil of life
influenced everything
no matter how much I whitewashed
my tabula rasa was not pure
and I found myself
redrawing the lines
found myself starting all over again
this is how it both
ends and begins
with poetry written
rewritten and rewritten again
layers upon meanings
upon words
with us forever
redrawing the lines
starting all over again
whilst the ghosts of poems past
influence everything
september two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
from the book of revelation
I heard Him preaching on the radio
streaming from station to station
delivering dire consequences to the
seven churches of the day
straying in their ways by concerning
themselves more with their own
hierarchy and corporate governance than
adhering to their original mission of
loving and serving the Trinity
But to those individuals overcoming their
faults through repentance and devotion
I heard him on the radio promising
manna from the tree of life
crowns and white garments to wear
powers to conquer all nations
pillars made in their name in the temple
and offering them the golden opportunity
to sit alongside the ultimate King
/span>
september two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
He started telling me things
little things
I had no business knowing
After a while the little things
mixed with the big things
and soon the important things
seemed to not matter so much
Every day for over two thousand
I did nothing but live alone with
my own thoughts
Of course I continued to enjoy
chocolate kisses and
group therapy and
kite flying
When he rescued me from
voluntary confinement
I screamed incoherently while
riding on the back of his fifty horses
hair blowing back horizontally
arms raised and flailing
Now after so many years since
time has turned around
and I find myself
drifting and regressing
but succeeding at exorcising
my very own demons
september two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
from the book of revelation
the door in the sky took me by surprise
and at once I wanted to walk through
but gravity overruled my ambitions
though chaos rang through the land
I clearly heard His voice
calling me by reaching out
grabbing the neck of my shirt
and flinging me
effortlessly through space and time
bedazzled before the throne
I was certain I had reached the omega
snatched out of the first century
and inserted into the last
in my attempt to comprehend these
events I recalled His promise
to the church at philadelphia
death will be swallowed up in victory
I stood among millions singing
never-before-heard psalms
and like everyone else
I lifted my crown from atop my head
august two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
when the terrorists moved in down the
street the other week
I worried nonstop for the safety of my children
and my two thousand twelve chevrolet
since moving in they’d been stockpiling
weapons in the two-car garage
when I called the police
they said there was nothing they could do
they’re living here legally
they said
and they’ve purchased the necessary
ammunition stamps
pausing with phone in hand
I stood looking out the bay window
watched the registered sex offender
(across the street and two doors down)
jump in his sports car and race away
my hands by my side I could barely hear the
officer on the other end repeatedly asking
hello hello hello
august two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 