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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “Poetry”

solar-powered


the lost drone         resurfaces
after three days without          the sun

commandeers itself
back          amongst the clouds

as if a ghost

back home          the remotes
share     no     purpose

the eyes have no vision

incapable
        of regaining control
                the drone lives on

as long as there is     the sun





december two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

forever your song


when I think of poetry
I think of song
the early morning bird
making sure
I think of you

curtains drawn
the interval begins
we awaken
and we start again

the end game
can never be known
but what happens
in the meantime
is forever yours





december two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

lone wolf


it was a day to be creative
in a regimental kind of way
voluntary confinement
practicing silence in the mirror
solidarity to the self

it’s a craft needing feeding
desirous without comprehending
setting out for the night
following the scent of the wind
and a filtering moonlight





december two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

purple petunias


it starts with planting
flowers in the dark
where there is no sunrise
or sunset
—the grand scheme
of things hidden
behind the scenes

rapid eye movement
paints all kinds of pictures
imagining opening
the curtain for all to see
all sorts of colors
splashed upon the fabric

the green of grass
the blue of sky
the yellow sun

new realities are made
in such ways
when eyes are shut
sleepwalking
through the garden
trowel in hand





december two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

born again


delighted by the findings
I begin to believe my decline
may soon be slowed
or absolutely reversed

how can this be
[I rhetorically ask]
is it not true there is no undoing
the advancement of the
universe itself

is there no unwinding
forward progression
once the wheels
are put into motion

how can it be
I can crawl back inside
that in which I first arrived





november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

chasing the ideal can be destructive


jesse james was a virgo
a creative in his own right
inputting & processing
like nobody’s business
until shot from behind

they say at the end
he had a black cat named
mercury
(it’s a virgo thing)
but that little nugget
never made it
to the mainstream media





november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

first born


the page is off white
blank & unlined
like an expressionless face
eyes shut & chin slightly lifted
mind void of meaningful thought

tiger behind iron gate
wants to come out & play
unknowing she is but a kitten
sublimely aware this life
will not be the last

charcoal in hand
ideas spring forth
from a second story window
a greenish moon burning bright
like the intensity of eyes
spellbound & unforgiving





november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Christmas Eve Massacre


At birth, I was cast into a flaming pit of scum forgotten by God.
   — Mickey Knox

America the Beautiful
unaccepting of the past
such pride & prejudice
home to many haters
birthing mass murderers
one day at a time

Smoke & mirror history
gives way to a new reality
this twenty-first century
exposure & denial
run rampant on the streets
like Natural Born Killers





november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

plane crash


forty years gone
and nature
has hidden the past
sublimely


metal buried
beneath the earth
the tops of trees
clipped & torn
repurposed over
time

deep in the forest
the songs
sound the best
amphitheater
created by the gods
only few will come
to find





november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

checking my mailbox


I keep forgetting things
but then again
I tell myself
I’m not as wired
as I used to be

I’m not into clichés
or goodbye kisses
also not keen on forgetting
recent events

nevertheless
I shrug off certain things
instead of screaming at people
who are not there
knowing eventually I’ll recall
what this life
might be all about

if I pass you on the street
with nary an acknowledgement
I hope you’ll remember
it was nothing intentional





november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

tornado watch


in the garage              my dad
& three older brothers
standing silently              looking up at the sky
I walk my schwinn 5-speed
up the driveway
I stop halfway              look back & upward
at the yellow          &         brown sky
eyes squinting
thinking to myself              someone
            must be dying





november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

waiting on my cue


from the bottom of my heart
there is much bleeding
noticeable but unseen
to the naked eye

offers flood in
but negotiations break down
the stitchers either
went on strike
or simply headed home

in the meantime
most everyone knows
what happens next
how the satiation
& the emptiness collide
creating a once-in-a-lifetime
celebratory occurrence





november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

thunderbolt


on the fringes
of poetry & geopolitical
ideologies
suddenly the voices
once repeating
serenity now
are one by one
shut down

do you remember
what january
everything changed
or is that a
made-up thing
created inside a
time capsule
orbiting the sister star

white-haired wizard
weaponizes weather
storms smolder
& smother
in a natural sort of way
bouts of ego
bent on destruction
angel eyes awaiting





november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

brokering the next deal


I was wondering about those
fabergé eggs & whatever
it would take to get my hands on some

I’ve pretended to live a life
I don’t lead
for as long as I can remember
the yachts & the jewels & the artwork
& whatever else is registered in my name
all is true as true can be

money in the bank
money on main street
money on wall street & foreign exchanges
properties on shorelines & mountaintops
or deep inside redwood forests

ambition oh yes
there is plenty of ambition
getting down to the bottom of beautiful things
especially when taking into account
the last of the eggs





november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the elephant not in the room


I wasn’t supposed to be here
I would say
it was a line I had been practicing
since nineteen ninety-nine

where were you supposed to be
someone would invariably ask

at this point I would
pretend to pay my tab
and walk through the back door
murmuring something about
how my story is as unbelievable
as my untimely demise





november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

postpartum


standing there naked
your final pose
not feeling the knife
nor hearing the words
spoken over your body

somebody might be
taking notes
or talking into a mic
making comments
little to no relevance

there is no way out
this much you know
and so you breathe
ever so deeply
disregarding the past





november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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