rhythm walked down the
brick road of jakarta
offering everyone
yellow roses
and exotic wishes
seven thousand islands
usher in oceans
pretending attention
is the last thing
on her beautiful mind
november two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we talked about the weather
how it would destroy us all
how it would appear out of nowhere
and blow away our dreams
just when everything seemed
to be falling into place
we spent hours catching up on time
that never really belonged to us
that somehow tricked us into thinking
seasons forever cycle
in the end all we could talk about
was the weather
and then we went our separate ways
november two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
shadows lengthen and darken
inviting imaginations to consider what
shades of color scare you
those gremlins that still
sleep with you
the ones that keep your back
when you’re lazy or drunk or sedated
protect you by never telling you
what it is lying in wait
without time to worry
about where the shadows of
doubt reside
you forgo daydreams
and other childish pursuits
in favor of running away from
everything breathing down your neck
october two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
this cat lived with us for about a year
and she was far out
she spoke many languages
and loved to recite poetry
while sipping on herbal tea
we loved to listen to her stories
about how she always
caught her mouse
or made the dude next door
shit his pants
one day she left the house and never
came back
we just figured she needed a break
before spending the rest of her
lives at the dakota
october two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there is this beauty
inside you
existing secretly
behind the artificiality
of your everyday routine
this beauty inside you
speaks to me
in my living dreams
allows me to understand
it’s smothered beneath
your colorful skin
the beauty that is yours
dies to be noticed
and so you continue
to scratch the surface
hoping to find her
october two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
row after row of desktop
computers play leapfrog in a
pentagon controlled pole barn
outside angry peasants wave
baseball bats and throw
expletives at robotic guards
as night collapsed into chaos
revolutionaries trade flashlights
for burning man torches
lights darting above oversee
armed forces hellbent on
accelerating the tipping point
morning fog surrenders to man
and his drum machines
moving on to the next outpost
october two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I stood looking out the window
at a small pile of leaves
I had raked and forgotten about
Damn I thought
I can’t believe I left behind this pile of leaves
It was then as I had these thoughts the wind
came out of nowhere
hitting the pile of burnt colors
and sending them high into the air
Hey honey I yelled
you’ve got to come see this
the leaves are dancing
Crosswinds continued lifting the
leaves higher than eye level
twisting them into a stream of
irregular circular motion
fully fluid yet shapely
as if produced by a child
playing spirograph on a table
Hey honey I yelled
you’ve got to come see this
This time she leaned her head back
and turned her neck my way
What is it she asked – I’m reading
The leaves are dancing I said
you’ve got to come see this
First there was a pause as the
leaves continued to dance
and then there was closure
october two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
She thought a thorn
had broken the skin of her ankle
while horseback riding near
old Route 66 in the
North Valley of Albuquerque
It looks like a snake bite
I said as I brought my eyes closer
You know she said
I thought maybe I heard a rattle
as we skirted past the brush
but I thought it was your iPhone
making one of its noises
We better go get yourself
fixed up now I said
we’re supposed to be at
Doc & Eddy’s at seven-thirty
october two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
No wires needed here
just plant yourself
in a pod
plunge yourself in
fantastical worlds
Supersonic speeds
flash images
long ago
boarding upon
magic carpet rides
History repeats
on movie screens
living dead
pretend nothing
ever existed
One way tickets
turn into gold
down below
where white rabbits
introduce new holes
october two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the sun went down
time after time
viewed by synthetic eyes
painted green
computed by plasma minds
learning to change the mood
from elation to blue
the streets disappeared
beneath the earth
giving rise to urban wasteland
man-made armies
evolving into superior thinkers
soon to problem solve
the world’s surrender
october two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Vinegar, red pepper and salt,
conceived and concocted with care,
bring delight to the tongue
when properly mingled
with Worcestershire, celery and juice.
Mary befriended me when she was a virgin,
taught me the phrase: ‘hair of the dog….’
Not until the morning after
did the adage appear as a revelation
when the leftover lager mixed itself with tabasco.
The addiction grew like a weed and teased
me in spirits; found itself in sauces,
casseroles and fried entrées.
The tiny bottles wouldn’t last three days;
twelve pack cases were stored in the pantry.
The habit persisted until the day
Mary would not bleed
when the taste for vinegar, red pepper and salt
was replaced by sweet acidophilus milk.
nineteen ninety-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
ten thousand whispers
brought down the clouds
turned the river into rain
and dust into life
whispers gently faded
subsisted ‘neath the waves
nearly turned to nothingness
by preying on decay
circles of whispers
sometimes escape the ark
curious metamorphoses
sailing further and further away
september two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
nobody asked me to share
my dreams with anyone
so I kept them to myself
nurtured them as best I could
in the middle of the night
silence awakened me
beckoned me to walk alone
in streets that never sleep
along the way I imagined
the sad ones called my name
reaching out like lonely stars
dying to find a home
I gathered them in jars
full of oxygen and hope
promised to return again
when eyes are laid down low
september two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
when I was a little girl she said
I sang in the children’s choir
and everybody loved us
we smiled and tried to imagine
how nana could ever have been
a little girl singing in church
like a magician she pulled psalms
out of her throat and lifted them
high into the glorious air
angels appeared playing flutes
and trumpets and approving the
perfection that was her voice
september two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
There’s a wall without slashes of social unrest,
without lines of prejudice, modesty or complaints
not even a good thought
clean and quick to the point
might make others laugh, angry or uneasy.
It makes me uneasy to see such a wall
anywhere within a public stall
upon a school desk or through walk tunnels.
To see such a wall of inhibition
of emptiness
of conservative thinking
like not sharing thoughts, ideas or secrets
makes me wonder
when the liberators will return
to save the free walls in this free land
from backwardness
from idleness
of single bawdy colors covering progress.
nineteen eighty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
when the two humans arrived
I knew there would be trouble
the pigman who carried
death sentences
on twelve systems
was just dying to pick a fight
once the pigman’s
wanking arm lay alone
on the floor of the bar
the music resumed
and we all just looked away
and carried on
about our business
september two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 