half-time show
it was half-time at the super bowl
and all the neighborhood kids
could be seen in the courtyard
singing & doing the macarena
february two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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poetry by j matthew waters
Archive for the tag “Poetry”
when we were young
it’s a paradox
how nothing is new
unless it’s a spring flower
unfolding when nobody
is looking
they say original
ideas no longer exist
they’ve been put to pasture
in the paradox field
far from here
even that smile
I sometimes see you with
is a replica of a paradox
captured long ago
when we were young
february two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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shadow of the sun
unseasonably cool
on a sunsetting saturday
european starlings accumulate
atop rows & tiers of downtown parking ramp walls
inviting the attention of passersby
more or less curious
of their rhythmic chatterings
like an orchestra fine tuning
leading up to their eventual shadowing
of the sun
february two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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vanished
it took to the air
disappearing like a whisper
it could be anything
a petal a leaf a feather
in the end becoming nothing
save a memory
thoughts escape into thin air
like nessy
or the abominable
whatever happened to
white rabbits & top hats
UFOs or UAPs
—what of entire cities
february two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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sublime
by gently heating
it’s possible to convert
certain substances to gas
only to have them condense
back to their solid state
by way of cooling
what tricks are these
and what purpose do they serve
wouldn’t it be grander
to raise someone or something
into a state of excellence
in a spiritual sort of way
w/o the need of temperature
manipulation
february two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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music listening to music
I listen to music
to step away from thought
from the overwhelming
bullets whizzing past
fast cars endangering
the local cat population
listening to music
doesn’t cure cancer
or reset broken bones
but can temporarily fix
broken hearts or coax
someone from the ledge
music listens to music
for obvious reasons
because sometimes it too
becomes depressed
at times suffocates from a
silence that won’t go away
february two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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Rorschach inkblots
they all looked like monsters
even the cute bat/butterfly creature
who should be hanging
upside down
after a pause I wondered
if they thought that I was the monster
—it was about this time I quickly
visualized my escape route
february two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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nowhere near death
there is a gap
in the back of your mind
call it a door or a window
but do not call it a trap
what’s behind it
is anything you want it to be
the trick is how do you even
come close to it
there is no moat or razor wire
impeding you from entering
& like anything else
there are many ways to reach it
whether legal or criminal
dignified or nefarious
open-sourced or clandestine
expensive or dirt cheap
if not altogether free
if you’re able to get through
& return before you die
bringing back with that which is
unseen & unequivocally invaluable
then you’ll have come closer than ever
to becoming a god
february two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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Dead Bug
It was a brick house
& it burned down overnight
a fire set by the Arsonist who goes
by the name Dead Bug
Missus Maloney & Molasses
were rescued by 15 firefighters
called into action
as the Full Moon struck midnight
Dead Bug’s motives
remain unknown at this point
diverse in its targets
& quite possibly
simply a Disgruntled Alien
february two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
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Uncontrolled
Behind the big tent
The little boy
Continued to learn
How to command
The juvenile elephant
His truest friend
Since birth
All the while
The juvenile elephant
Felt sorry for the boy
Reciprocating
In her own way
february two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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from stardust to conscious thought
you ventured quietly into the night
drifting along cemetery trees
planted three lifetimes ago
long before you belonged to a satellite
orbiting an icy world without a name
only to be blown away by a fiery rock
sending you careening on a trajectory
back toward the sun
february two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
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on finding a feather of a mourning dove
what am I to solve
before leaving this place
once incapable of refusing
an unwanted invitation
yet this is where I stand
if only temporarily
asking my own questions
to a mind that has seen
many great & terrible things
these possessions of mine
why do they grow
and why am I unable
to rid of them
yet perfectly adept at burying
hand-picked memories
having once fueled me
day by day
only to haunt me by night
but what of the physical
versus the mental
are they really that far apart
but rather intertwined
in such a way
I’ll never fully understand
the connection
—that is as long as I wander
upon rock & water
january two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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inside job
white collar heist
a performing artist
finding vulnerabilities
cracks in walls
a chink in the armor
picking off assets on the net
cash & coins & tokens
slipped into stealth wallets
—they said it had to have been an inside job
had to have been
an inside job
january two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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telepathy
do you know what I’m thinking
she asked me out of the blue
her voice as distinct
as I had remembered
in god knows how many years
her words were inside my head
as I sat outside a corner cafe
deviceless on a sunny morning
the traffic light but loud
pigeons plentiful & pecking away
I turned to face my right
& then my left & backwards
my hands on the top rail of the chair
fooling myself that she could be within earshot
as opposed to eternally lost
in a sea of consciousness
january two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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game programmer
we were watching cartoons
in the dungeon when the doorbell rang
considering the volume on the television
it was surprising the sound even reached us
suddenly there was complete silence
except for half a dozen beating hearts
the shadows on the walls didn’t make a move
in fact they seemed to be shrinking
we weren’t supposed to be there
and there wasn’t a single adult around
for some strange reason Timmy decided
to see who was at the door
we heard every single creak of the stairs
as he ascended to the main floor
we heard his steps across the floor
stopping at the foyer
and from that point on
we never heard from Timmy again
january two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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lucky to be alive
eyes open
unsure what day it is
shouldn’t take long to solve
what with living in the digital age
late January
sun unseen for days
hijacked by rising temperatures
having chased away the polar vortex
a mad dash
or maybe a marathon
depends who survived the night
counting heads at the breakfast table
early March
the world still at war
looking out the kitchen window
kids play dodgeball in an old minefield
january two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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