how can I be homesick
for a place I’ve not set foot upon
like a youngster
I sit & daydream of foreign lands
and open seas
convincing myself I’d been
there in another life
an eighth
or a quarter
or half a world away
the pull itself as familiar
as a knock on the door
at three o’clock in the morning
october two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
streams are dying up
the rivers receding
winter is coming
should we be worried
missiles are sailing
nukes are on the move
sitting outside
the danger zone
should we be worried
tent cities crop up
accommodating despair
the world revolving
as people flee
what they thought
was their home
destinations unknown
should we be worried
birds and butterflies
migrating southward
before the winter kill
struggling against
prevailing winds
whether natural
or man-made
[should we be worried]
october two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
nothing comes to mind
as the sun rises undeterred
provoking birdsong
nervous anticipation
and artificial light
the forecast calls
for isolated bombings
and more terrorist attacks
the kitchen radio
unable to locate a station
october two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there is tension
and then it goes away
no explanation
you sit back & look
for a new way in
there has to be a treasure
down there somewhere
you mark the spot in your brain
and you fly away
so many times I’ve been
destroyed
but you always come back
digging me up
from the grave
this world has always been
white & blue & black
the latter near perfect
in its execution
october two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
death hangs in the balance
like a bat hanging upside down
is it an animal or a human
in disguise
breaking natural laws
in supernatural conventions
undetectable to the human
but not the bat
awakening by signals
inherited from the sun
guided by a waning moon
long forgotten
october two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the brook has dried up
courtesy of an angry sun
that which used to babble
has grown silent
what once was something
to believe in
now a distant memory
prisoners in chains
march along the dry bed
littered with rock & bone
and unmitigated misery
collecting pieces of a past
now fully exposed
where water once flowed
october two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the story continues
like a child who’s questioning
the reality of death
the story continues
like a child biding time
like the changing wind
moving from one thing to the next
the story continues
like a child looking in the mirror
like a child escaping at will
the story continues
like a child defying
the powers that be
october two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s late in the game
but I’m not taking myself out
look I say
that cat is almost nine years old
and he ain’t going anywhere
[except kitty heaven]
—but I have to admit
it’s high time for a screwgie
or a mickey or a riddle
a secret talisman perhaps
almost certain to buckle your knees
as if brushed by death himself
october two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Take me across the water ’cause I need some place to hide
— Ken Hensley
we’re catching fish
upstream from the lock & dam
catch & release catch & release
oh here’s a keeper bluegill
straight out of the mississippi
we understand the newly formed
‘limit police’ are out in full force
some on the water &
others on foot
allegedly deputized by
the president of the united states
october two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the characters are neither human
nor inanimate objects
and they have quickly learned
all the languages of the world
the angle of the sun has changed
for better or worse
exposing the weakness of the old
and the superiority of the new
to be subservient or not
requires careful contemplation
whether inside your own mind
or out in the great wide open
october two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
fool me twice shame on me
too black or too white
it’s [sadly] what this world
has been about for far too long
what have we become
incapable of coming close
to honoring the easiest of pledges
forgive me lord for I have sinned
for having believed
I possessed another [human being]
as a simple piece of property
october two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
usually nothing comes to mind
due to the clutter inside
having built up over a lifetime
only occasionally sortable
though mainly a jumbled mess
making little to no sense
the pictures are uncountable
yet interchangeable
moving in & out of recesses
with emotionless abandon
the audio like birds of various colors
but mostly in shades of black
september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’m not going to rhyme
I swear I won’t
even though this poem
is about a songbird
there are seven of them
[actually]
inside the bush
swapping silly stories
thriving on higher vibes
a single gust of wind
sets them aflutter
alighting where required
to give aid & comfort
september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
how am to I think except by
the environments placed before me
arriving from various angles
from places near & far
from unthinkable scenarios
that intermittently plague my mind
at first against my will
I would be cast into solitary confinement
but as time wore on
the episodes became self-imposed
accepting this intense & intimate
atmosphere as my very own
I convince myself I’m most successful
when misunderstood
people pointing & laughing
and believing I may have lost
that most important last
piece of the puzzle
shaped like a key
september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
by November the eye of the storm
would have grown into two
no longer a Cyclops
the monster continually evolving
like any other living thing
to the point it becomes
unrecognizable
some say Mass Destruction
is just what the world needs
a thinning of the crowd so to speak
crash & burn & reseed
earthbound Meteors
coming home to roost
every thousand millennium
the Tin Man seems to know
exactly what’s happening
heartless but not stupid
standing perfectly petrified
deep inside the rainforest
september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there is dismay
and there is disarray
distressing is the one
who shall not be named
a nation’s people unafraid
and deeply motivated
making a connection
between the now
and the heretofore
a mass migration begins
leaving the status quo
for the impossible
beyond the blue
there is a peace
yet to be discovered
whether deep below the sea
or high above the stratosphere
where open minds exist
september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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