back in the day
haircuts cost a nickel
and most working men kept
shotgun or two out back
don’t make me go out
to the shed
he would often say
but nobody knew exactly
what that meant
boys learn to chop wood
before snow ever falls
piling stacks upon stacks
attempting to stay
two steps ahead of winter
january two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Hop skip and jump
all the way to bank & back
nickels in pockets
pennies in shoes
The ice is thin
but surprisingly strong
watching in amazement
elephants marching on
Many moons smile
only a few may frown
there is orange in the sky
nobody seems to forget
Listen here and listen now
silence and fireworks
commingling on purpose
resting up
for the unrest
january two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there is truth in numbers
and there is money too
the two go hand in hand
like youtube and click ads
so these cats we knew
decided to get off the grid
cash in their chips
bought one-way ticket to cape town
determined to find truth from
some mojo guru goddess
of course once there
they were told to draw a number
forced to blend in line with
other carbon dated records
all competing to uncover exact
combination to make it out alive
january two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
horizon gives way to five dimensions
showcasing countless colors
subconscious minds deciphering
all of it effortlessly
spinning like a top along invisible plane
surfboarding spacecraft
reverse course from unknown points
riding atop high rolling waves
aircraft and watercraft once lost
inside triangles
reappear out of future air
joining in on the spectacle
ceremoniously
if not downright paradoxically
january two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
There is change in the air
smoke from wood burning stoves
linger above rooftops
Plows clearing streets
snowmen cropping up at an alarming rate
crows welcoming the dead
wingspans boldly contrasting
against whitened sky
Nobody saw the sunrise today
at least not in these parts
where there is no connectivity of
any kind to any grid
There are neighborhood stores
and places of worship and refuge
and children freely play outside
even on the coldest of winter days
new year’s day two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there were stones lined along pathway
topped with frost and shiny from
southern sun striking topsides
walking along hands behind back
I wonder how alive
these inanimate objects must be
as they continued to pave my way
I am remiss if I don’t doubt the reality
of my own existence
at times cursed and others exalted
chastised and honored
reviled and revered
depending upon time of day
there is no sadness surrounding
anything around here
there is only relief
for what was once my constancy
transitions into solitary acceptance
new year’s eve two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
off to half a world away
a place never set foot upon
I pray she will accept me
I keep checking my pockets
for identification
but they’re empty now
forever surrendered to the state
I was one of the first
to sign up for mission to mars
my resume somehow
lost in the shuffle
leaving me rethinking
what little options remain
december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
on good friday parish banks locked
their doors at noon
those inside looking out
waves of worshippers walking by
everyone of them jesus
on his way to calvary
there are no motor cars motoring
no laughter or alcohol
permitted on the streets
groups of pilgrims advancing
visiting nine churches from
cock’s crow ‘til sundown
thunder precedes rain
pelting down like hammer on nail
thinly layered crowds
dispersed by lightning strikes
only the most devout
atop the hill and wailing
december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s a perfect fit
basking in the moment
but it was short-lived
like a lost talisman
like a grand slam
or coup d’état
there is piano
and saxophone at play
filling the air
and dissipating
bandaging all cares
only to unmask
you pick something
out of thin air
be it rose petal or
raindrop or damselfly
further defining
recollections scattering
december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
you’ve seen these people
talking with their hands
I want to know what they know
somehow tap into their insights
they are not like those politicians
or preachers or snake oil solicitors
using sleight of hand maneuvers
like a charlatan or imposter or pretender
like an everyday carnival barker
like a false prophet delivery incoherent babble
promising some sort of tipping point
ever since yesterday’s crash
time has blossomed
supposedly ushering worldwide prosperity
the disadvantaged growing in numbers
thriving in ways inexplicable
like a resurrected angel
december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she said we were friends
but I never believed her for fear
it was only a dream
I never knew who to believe
ever since I was five years old
when neighborhood boys
kicked the crap out of me for
reasons never known
on christmas eve restless eyes
survey the skies from darkened
room with oval window
bringing in the faintest lights from
places secretly existing
I spot a particular star dying to be seen
a little gem with a wry smile
promising myself I’ll revisit her
as often as possible
as long as she would have me
december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
winter stars have long moved on
replaced by tin soldiers
recaptured and rehabilitated
forced to wear bold
and vibrant colors
and pledge allegiance to the queen
eastern front is nowhere to be found
come february
not without a rifle and bayonet
nor any working instrument
allowing you to chart
new stars unveiling new gateways
boundary waters gradually thaw
making moon appear
much more liquid and palatable
racing across land by day
seven seas by night
everchanging like an adversary
december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
sitting in the dark
watching cars pass by
snow quietly falling
not a star in sight
everything’s unplugged
sound of winter settles in
pulsating candlelight
casting shadows on walls
touching rags and bones
other world sleeps upstairs
while down below you
redraw black & white dreams
subtracting out the bad
adding new color
until every ornament
collected throughout the years
is perfectly placed
on your imaginary tree
december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
all the universe is about to change
turning nothing into something
you’ve never seen before
make a wish upon a star
this one and the next
rising over your shoulder
giving you a kiss
it’s like a candle
dancing in the wind
flickering high and
simmering low
bending below the horizon
only to reverse direction
soaring timelessly
beyond its own apex
december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s getting late she says
and I agree silently
lights turn on and off
flickering like christmas tree
inside new year’s eve
did you put that bird back
in the pear tree
she asks nonchalantly
I did indeed I reply
and fed them both
six ounces each of your favorite
chocolate porter
outside felines are screaming
after having witnessed
albino barn owl eyes
both of us smiling slightly
neither of us moving an inch
december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
quintillion of stars shine
down upon all corners of planet earth
perhaps an inspiration to us all
but alas we are far away from reversing
billions upons trillions of dollars spent
equipping programmatic minds
beautiful machinery capable of killing
singularly or massively like clockwork
december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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