the bird in the stream
loves to scream at midnight
when deep in her sleep
she dreams of elegant legs
to-die-for tail feathers
and a graceful neckline
no longer interested in
fly-by-night playboys
she catches her limit
before the rooster’s crow
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we walked along the boulevard
hand in hand
as if newly in love
enjoying the sunshine
and freshly cut grass
it seemed we were alone
in the universe
and all eyes stopped and stared
jealous of the way
we walked upon the air
as we faded into the dying sun
everyone noticed
how brightly we shined
once upon a time
when the world was young
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the stream imagines
whatever lies inside the mind
projects audial nuances
favorable to the heart and soul
the stream has babbled on
since before babylonia was born
before the seeds of creation
transfigured into the living garden
the stream provides sustenance
and everlasting grace
offering those who worship her
glimpses of alpha and omega
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
if only I had freed my mind
from the fatal threat
I would have cleared the board
of thoughtlessness
instead of surrendering
to acquiescence
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
He was born with a suicide pack
strapped around his waist
not too far from where Jesus the prophet died
nor too far from where the once trendiest cafe in town
is now a basketball court
Through the age of seven he pleased Allah
by wearing the gift with pride
fully understanding his duty
was more powerful
than his circumcised phallus
As the eventual light self-destructed
into angelic chaos of heavenly proportions
he leapt into the next dimension
and into the arms
of seventy-two virgins
august two thousand thirteen
original version october two thousand seven
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there are no lawyers here
so there is no one
to call or point fingers at
I’m just sitting here on the
highway’s shoulder
figuring out my next move
I see everything at once
and without even trying
I’m getting quite used to it
the wreck across the way
is mine but it’s been
five or ten or fifty years ago
sure seems like yesterday
I keep thinking maybe one day
I might branch out
and try my hand at haunting
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
born into the dark ages
the children loved to listen
to the chronicles of the sun
rising above the hills and
making everything on earth
supernaturally magical
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we walked hand
in hand
throughout the centuries
seeking treasures
along the shoreline
wondering what lies
beyond the faintest star
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
fleet of foot
and quite aloof
the time eraser
runs in the background
as quiet as a ghost
as mistakes
accumulate
the time eraser
springs into action
restoring sanity
troubles fade
thoughts unravel
the time eraser
intravenously
injecting new cocktails
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
born into a disconnected world
thousands of years back or forwards
angry young men
count using hands and feet
and algorithms buried
beneath the rubble
without warning there is no danger
there are only unexplained explosions
breathing new life
into a universe dying to attract
everything that is beautiful
inside a perfect circle
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the bichon is on to something
he knows better
about going outside
where the dangers have crept
from the country to the city
over a period of
less than a dog’s life
chester didn’t used to be this way
but the latest barrage
of borrowed artillery
has taken its toll on his fragility
has left him second guessing
every single move he’s made
since he was a baby
july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I listened for the past
but found only this noisy place
littered with half-drunken moments
and thunderstorms
so boisterous
we were forced to hide
under the bed with earbuds
and electronic coloring books
I listened for the past
turned knobs on an etch-a-sketch
producing a frequency
revisiting
black light images
dissolving into channels
of jagged lines weaving baskets
and a cat’s cradle
I listened for the past
by focusing on a spirit
reassuredly haunting and
beautifully
invisible
hiding behind the maple
waiting for the oxen to be called
to free her people
july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I thought I heard something
but it was just the wind
I think she said
sitting in the living room
I perked up and turned down
the baseball on TV
started to listen in
like one of those creeps
repetitive silence ensued
followed by curious winds
sneaking in
through the attic vents
rushing in I reached out
begging her to take
my hand
before the winds do
july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
when you love something
so deeply
that you cannot live without
and the primitive nature inside you
supersedes the laws
of logistics and morality
take notice
for your best laid plans
in conquering your desires
may unwittingly leave you choiceless
and as baseless as the next man
july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
in the clouds the clowns
perform with their balloons
and wacky flowers
and superlative feet
making the children laugh and cry
leaving them wondering
why this world
is such a mysterious place
in the cloud memories
are stored so the children
can recall those days
of carelessness and glee
before forced into figuring out
how the clowns managed to
make this world
seemingly unforgettable
july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
barely breathing
and unable to move
I imagine the sun
rising above
the endless hills
a simple incision
clears a path for a
laser-guided blade
to reshape my mind
and redefine my life
as I lay awakening
to blinding whiteness
the pain I once knew
vanished with time
that never existed
july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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