jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “poetry”

11 Jul 2013
2 Comments

Nothing but a Vestigial Drawing


Thousands of miles from home, viewing gardens
I’ve been meaning to plant, I sit and sketch
with charcoal on textured paper a perfect,
utopian presence like that place in Genesis.

The hotel makes me honestly welcomed
from the “Sirs” to the stars to the telephone
in the commode. In the drawing I see myself
never leaving, ever. I am drawn to be within

The shades of grass and green, contemplating
the reasons I should ever leave the stone
and glass and fabric and hospitality
that has enveloped me in this lofty balcony.

Below the waters are warm. The bodies
are near and brown, living out temporary
yet simple days, their imperfections hidden
beneath the moonlight, their conversations distant,

Calming and inviting. It takes almost nothing
to remove myself from a world a million miles
away; takes a conscious effort to check out
and return with nothing but a vestigial drawing.



original version penned nineteen ninety-eight
rewritten and recorded july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , ,
07 Jul 2013
11 Comments

if you can’t say anything nice


we went downtown
to have dinner at that fancy place
where you can eat outside
on the sidewalk
and observe the street traffic
and all the pretty people
and the pigeons
and bums
who live somewhere nearby

there were six of us
and I was probably the only one
who really didn’t want to eat outside
where the city’s best and worst would walk by
with their noses turned up
where street traffic with it’s unforgiving noise
emitted carbon vapors that drifted
past the sidewalk spotted with birdshit

I just sat there with a half smile on my face
drinking my drink through a straw
and twirling the umbrella stuck inside it
thinking it was best I not say anything
lest I’d spoil everybody’s fun


july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,
04 Jul 2013

ultra echo


self-inflicted physical pain
is nothing compared to
once abandoned realities
appearing out of the thinnest of air
unfurling into razor-sharp focus
and leaving you crippled
and crying
and praying for the comfort
of that long lost world
inside a world
inside a world
inside a world



july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment
02 Jul 2013
8 Comments

protecting the witness


my innermost thoughts
became stolen and plastered
all over the web
my complex passwords compromised
for any novice hacker
to copy or cut and paste

within milliseconds
my childhood story went viral
via black and white videos
forcing me to step off the grid
and start a new life
as someone I once knew



july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , ,
30 Jun 2013
5 Comments

the second flight of the samaras


the industrious child spent
his morning picking up the fallen fruit
of the maple tree
placing them one or two or three at a time
into a plastic orange pail
as his mother sat on the glider
on the front porch
rocking the little one to sleep
comfortably in her arms
both bundled within a shawl

a cool breeze made the boy’s cheeks
as pink as the tulips that bloomed
nearly a month ago
and when the pail became filled
to his satisfaction he disappeared
into the house
only to reappear in a second story window
where he proceeded to pretend
a fleet of military choppers
converged behind enemy lines



june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
28 Jun 2013
4 Comments

unlucky in love


he sits in his lazy boy chair
and yells at the umpire on TV who
keeps getting all the calls wrong
exhaling cheap cigar smoke
while putting down old style beer
in 12 ounce gulps

in the other room his partner
in crime fixes potato salad
to go with his pastrami on rye
saddened at the thought
mister james gandolfini
has left her lonely world



june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Baseball, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , ,
23 Jun 2013
12 Comments

alive like the butterfly


the moment you start looking back
and analyzing every misstep
chances are you are not where
you want to be
and all the hopeless wishing in the world
will leave you even more wretched

consider the beauty of the butterfly
and ask yourself if your life isn’t worth
just as much
and maybe then you will understand
moving forward is the only option
with or without a migration map


june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , ,
23 Jun 2013
6 Comments

to catch a soul


I am trapped inside this virtual
world where judgments
are issued without warrant
and disenchanted encoders
sip on encrypted whiskey
while laughing silently

without notice shots of pain
stream down the sciatica river
where boys sit on rocks
and pretend to fish
with artificial bait
waiting to steal my soul


june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , , ,
16 Jun 2013
2 Comments

architecting a house of cards


I look at pictures of people
from all across the world
and I see the look in their eyes
and say to myself
they are just like me

and then I am reminded
of a good friend
I’ve not seen in ages
who once told me
how much he admired
the individuality of my mind

from there I imagine
collective thoughts make up
the universe as we know it
and without me pinging
this particular poem
the whole thing could implode


june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , ,
16 Jun 2013
7 Comments

there is nothing holy in hypocrisy


why have all the scholars
and scribes and high priests
why have they sealed up the
words of the prophecy
exposing their selfishness
and secrecy for all to see

I have scaled the city walls
and found a new world
where the seeds of truth
sprout from my cupped hands
and water flows like a fountain
deep within the desert



june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , ,
15 Jun 2013
4 Comments

some kind of way out of here


in the archives
they let me spend my time
weaving tales of prison breaks
not even the watchtower
can contain

this life inside
the loneliest place on earth
would break the common man
but here I sit and sail away
stealthily

once a month
I wander the yard and chat
with all the pretty young ladies
who stopped writing me
years ago

in my mind
I lived out my days in paradise
where the flowering perennials
rooted before the breach
still flourish


june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , ,
15 Jun 2013
15 Comments

bleeding hearts


I grow bleeding hearts
in my garden
where there is no sun

they thrive in the shadows
where tears
are not seen but heard


june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Micropoetry, Nature, Poetry and tagged , , , , ,
09 Jun 2013
9 Comments

genome projects


this old blue jewel continuously
reinvents herself
through orderly chaos
using beautifully destructive forces
to tear herself down and rise again
in unimaginable creativity

she is her own god forever conjoined
with the serene sky
the strands of creation
emitting sparks from her fingertips
fashioning transcendental elements
into a supernatural world


june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
07 Jun 2013
4 Comments

Long Road to Lake Erie


I imagine running in my native land
known only as Windward Coast
existing in the spoken word
handed down from a language
forced upon my people

Awakening to my nightmarish reality
I prepare to run yet another night
my instructions given and repeated
inside a barn outside Portsmouth
known to me as station number nine

We pursue the waning gibbous
across the Ohio and into the arms
of extraordinary people who
provide encouragement and provisions
and a promise our new life is near

I imagine I’ll run even beyond my death
but for our children they will live
unrestrained and without images
of bounty hunters or bloodhounds
chasing them in their dreams





june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, Poetry and tagged , , ,
03 Jun 2013
7 Comments

saturday in the park


sitting on a bench in green square park
one saturday morning
I detected so many ghosts
walking about

the first day of summer
was just a stone’s throw away
and the nine o’clock sun
tried to burn the foggy images
out of my mind’s eye

some wandered alone aimlessly
some marching in groups of two
or three or more
some pretending they really had no business
being here
while yet others carried bags
or pushed empty strollers
hoping to find ways to fill them

at the nearby city gardens
I spotted little ones sniffing
red roses
that always came back to life this time of year

I leaned back and marveled
at how all of the ghosts
managed to travel through time and space
just to revisit opening day
at this year’s farmers’ market




june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , ,
02 Jun 2013
3 Comments

sixth trumpet

from the book of revelation


the sixth angel stood by
knowing well in advance
once the trumpet had sounded
three plagues would break out
throughout the lands

not a soul seemed to fear
the voice from the four horns
of the golden altar instructing
the release of the four angels
bound at the river euphrates

once cut loose they amassed
two hundred million mounted troops
the horses with heads like lions
spewing fire and smoke and sulfur
directly from their mouths

the riders wore breastplates
of fiery red and dark blue
and yellow like sulfur
their horses transmitting disease
wiping out a third of mankind

despite the carnage the world
refused to repent of murder
and thievery and idol worshiping
neither abandoning magical art
nor the work of their hands



june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Post Navigation

← Older Entries
Newer Entries →