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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
one too many distractions
and you’ll find yourself dead
just go ask any politician
you may have elected
how do you slice up
that which has always been split
how do you put together a puzzle
missing hundreds of pieces
the answer of course
is nobody gives a rat’s ass
since we were born here
we’ve gotten used to propaganda
that somehow this land is ours
fair and square
which of course leads
to the crux of the problem
fault lines continually changing
right along with the demographics
of an ever volatile populace
november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
my game was good enough
to keep out of the marsh
giving myself [at least] a chance
to shine on a steely day
I ventured into the forest
[perhaps for the last time]
knowing full well
some singletrack trails
have no end
voices along the way
whisper & shout [on occasion]
interested in body language
and how it might translate
once leaving itself
november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
lost in the crowd
I am afloat in a nameless sea
the lesser part of a wave
reaching for an orangish moon
nobody sees me
as I weave & bob & jettison
sinking & resurfacing time & again
as if manipulated by a line
the cycle is unbeaten
at will forces catching & releasing
faces becoming whitecaps
rolling forward & diving deep
november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’m less concerned
of my own demise
than I am of your
mental health
I’ve checked in & out
of clinics
most of my life
and each time I swear
I’m starting
all over again
But as we all know
each & every one
was nothing
but a false start
having always wound up
in the same place
I walked one hundred miles
to find you no longer
live in the house
I was raised in
When I knocked
on the door
and a stranger answered
I said I’m sorry
I must have the wrong
number
november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’m not from this land
but I’ve been hearing
good news is on the way
whether it’s here to stay
is another story
but as of now
more & more bones
are being found beneath
the surface
confirming what the locals
have been saying
for decades
the front page
is not indicative of a world
some say is parallel
one in which escapes
and survives the greatest
of all evil
by way of mere
counter-madness
november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 