dying naturally or by suicide
two birds squabble in the bush
their eyes like emeralds
—the first light
exposing them
for what they will later be
continuation is my punishment
a deal made behind my back
before the birds
were ever born
—before becoming fully aware
death is never permanent
october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
lost to the ages
I wrote snippets of thoughts
onto scraps
of colored paper
stuffed them into my front pockets
—and left the city
for the country
there I bowed to the sungod
unstuffing my thoughts
from my front pockets
—like butterflies they flew
away from my hands
into an endless blue sky
—up up & away they went
and suddenly
I felt a piece of me
go with them
october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
theories & conspiracies abound
though nothing concrete
seems to evolve into truthfulness
the flavor of the day
unpalatable
to the ubiquitous bourgeois
some say it’s a good idea
to fend for themselves
instead of investing confidence
into any promises made
by politicians & corporations
who likely have only
their best interests in mind
in the meantime inequalities
expand exponentially
like equations found
inside many a math book
inside galaxies near & far
october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
you can find them just about anywhere
on the kitchen counter
inside the cabin of the car
atop the bedroom dresser
coffee table & end tables
and especially in the ‘reminders’ app
it didn’t use to be this way
back when I was as sharp as a tack
but time has a way of chipping away
at the sharpness of wit
the precision of a timepiece
the idleness of a combustion engine
it could be just about anything
items at the grocery store or drug store
or the hardware store
rebooting the modem every sunday
visiting dear old mom at assisted living
or working on my own obituary
october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it was a friday night
and there was dancing in the streets
four whole city blocks
cordoned off by the police
a live band playing on each one
half the city joining hands
and dancing the night away
showing the world
just how easy it really is
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I want to do something more
but can’t quite put my finger
on it
the lost key
buried in the ground
found by a stroke of luck
the one opening a door that
suddenly appears in the garden
it welcomes a long lost world
expanding like a newborn galaxy
it’s impossible not to cross
the threshold
impossible not to leave
that which had become
comfortably numb
a sort of dalliance if you will
involving the former self
and the endless stars
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
little yellow submarine
somewhere in the south pacific
well armed with nukes
& waiting to be called [when the
time is right]
when the next armed conflict
accidentally starts
on purpose
likely by a lone lunatic
w/a tricky trigger finger
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
blame it on faulty wiring
the red one in the black socket
& vice versa
the white wire left ungrounded
all causing a slow smoldering of sorts
like a hot cigarette ash
accidentally dropped inside a couch
gradually deteriorating the inner workings
eventually causing me to be completely
out of my mind
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I saw her outside
my office window on a
warm september afternoon
dressed in short jean shorts
& a blue tank top
pacing back & forth on the sidewalk
smartphone covering her right ear
her left hand holding
a retractable leash
the end of which secured
a relatively small black pussycat
attempting to go against
the grain
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I sat in the quietness
of the evening
believing my visions of
september daffodils
& october madness
had merit
I told myself
time itself will tell the story
the natural light
in my peripheral
fading minute
by precious minute
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
tipping points abound
like dress shoes on a clown
overpopulated ideas
doomed to fail
over a matter of time
we know this
because of history & science
and the indisputable fact
human ingenuity
knows no bounds
—as a collective
creating its very own
artificial demise
meanwhile the crows
keep learning
at an accelerated pace
conspiring to clean up the mess
once handed over the keys
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
black goat
grazing atop a craggy hill
thoughtless
going thru the motions
clouds up above white
& immovable
blocking the midday sun
unnoticeable to the
black goat
grazing atop a craggy hill
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the winds swept in
brought with it fire & rain
burning all the evidence
and washing it all away
nobody was left
to pick up the pieces
and over time it became
a place that may have existed
it is said a certain energy
resides inside such uncertainty
transiting in & out of memory
like souls lost in the woods
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
3:30 AM
a cool breeze
touching the silky white curtain
nary a sound in or out
of the bedroom
his eyes in REM mode
acting out a scene
racing down an alleyway
guns & knives & cocaine giving chase
adrenaline fully kicked in
instinct & logistics collaborating
his heart racing
his skin clammy
someone on the other side
shaking his limp body
screaming wake up wake up wake up
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
diminishing but not beyond recognition
this stale state of mind
requires a new kind of wake-up call
one in which the soul within
is stirred but not shaken
a reminder there is more work
yet to be done
in the morning the radio & the sun
& the birds of a nation
reminds us there is good reason
to pause & reflect
to take one step backward
before taking two
into this uncertain future
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
angles are always changing
depending on the view
or the tilt of the earth
like a b&w flipbook of the moon
going through the phases
or bulbous-head water tower
near the center of town
occasionally shifting its location
on a stone wall
three pale white angels
quietly bide their time
their dark shadows
ebbing & flowing
like the tides
there is mystery in every
corner of the hour
perspectives coming & going
concrete ideas pixelating
until becoming fleeting
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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