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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “Poetry”

nineteen ninety-nine


they were small samples
but they were perfect
neat & tidy & filed away
in the cooler

this place is so secure
maybe not like fort knox
or maybe even more

even if I gave you
my (pass)word
or my barcode
the window to my soul
my first born or my last breath
you’d struggle
to get past the gate

as if in a flashback
we find ourselves
hanging out in the cooler
passing around bits & pieces
subconsciously agreeing
how nineteen ninety-nine
was a killer year




june two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

early in the morning


hand me your dream
let me take it from there
let’s see how far
we can stretch the sky

it’s been ages
since I’ve heard voices
finally returning
to calm me down

I used to think angels
disguised themselves
as red wing blackbirds
restless by the roadside




june two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

back in the game


new leather bag
jet black with a thin strap
count ‘em one two
three gold zippers
perfect for
compartmentalizing
a few zodiac signs &
today’s mental mood


money clip holding tight
a few precious scraps
an apple card with a slice
or two in reserve
privy to proof of legal age
& all kinds of insurance

fingernail clipper
a box cutter (just in case)
a chain with too many keys
a rosary with black beads
a few triple A batteries (again
just in case)
and so many more little
metallic things

strolling down 5th avenue
like a big dog on parade
the big pouch empty but open
hoping something that glitters
may yet again
catch my cautious eye




may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

center of the universe


an explosion at the end of the street
chased all the strays out of the backyard
of the empty house for sale next door

only half a block away
my windows shook but all remained intact

multiple sirens sounded closer every millisecond

I looked out the bay window but all I saw
was smoke billowing
upward in the once clear blue sky
like a fat charcoal snake twisting & turning vertically
as if commanded by its charmer

what used to be a quiet street
became anything but
curiosity seekers gathering at an alarming rate
to what appeared to be the new

center of the universe
a place becoming more dangerous by the hour




may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

further feeding the dream


listen
can’t you hear
that little buzzing bee
chasing you
in a dream

glass jar in one hand
lid in the other
catching flashes of light
once the sun
dissolves itself

in the dream
you are in the glass jar
shaped like your
mother’s uterus
the contents
gradually evolving

lukewarm & invisible
you direct the workers
in & out of the garden
collecting pollen
& other personal data
fed back into the dream




may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

immeasurable precipitation


sadness lingers in the air
going on fifteen days now
absent the once smiling sun
stuffed inside some closet
like a forgotten promise

I keep thinking the end is near
a place that doesn’t exist
simply an inherent idea
implanted into my heart
the first time I witnessed light




may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

objects in mirror are closer than they appear


how will I write traveling
near the speed of light
hazards blinking red
or so command tells me

the autopilot speaks
on different occasions
sort of a play by play
coming through the pipe

I lean back & jot down
a few words about the weather
always lacking here
no wind no rain no snow

personal experience
tells me I become younger
each passing light year
lines on faces diminishing




may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

outside belleview iowa


pitching tent along little mill
on a friday evening
as if it were yesterday

from spring to fall
brown & rainbow trout
occasionally released
into coldwater stream
sometime after sunrise

morning menu
includes bacon & beer
& last night’s catch
two old friends unlikely
to meet again




may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

they did not come from royalty


they did not come from royalty
these aliens
from the darkside
& though they thought
what shores they landed upon
they were dead wrong

they fled for reasons
other than their imaginary fears
bringing with them
advanced technologies
certain to change
the existing landscape

in the beginning
they struggled to survive
but more & more arrived
until their numbers
outnumbered all the natives
& immigrants combined




may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

dead to right


all I wanted to do was play baseball
but world wars got in the way

throwing fastballs & sliders
big fat curveballs exploding in the sky

the airwaves were full of danger
yankees overtaking bases

bearded men in kneehigh red socks
slaughtering the entire field

of course it’s justified by orthodoxy
IEDs & suicide squeezes

inside foxholes older men in uniforms
chew tobacco & flash signs

though they’re waving me in
instincts tell me I must be dead to right




may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Cedar Lake


Many men go fishing all of their lives without
knowing that it is not fish they are after.
                                      ~ Henry David Thoreau



They call it a lake but it’s really
just a big pond

I was told it’s so shallow
you could walk across it
which left me thinking
maybe I’d give it a go in early
February before the thaw

A decade ago
city officials pronounced it was safe
to eat the fish caught there
but as for me
I’ll only catch & release





may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

second chances


a girl is giving birth
sounds from her inner self
brand new & beautiful
like those of a songbird


she breathes like she was
taught to breathe
mending her own broken heart
so that others may live

charity knows no bounds
this she firmly believes
finding second chances
in the eyes of another




may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

failing at REM sleep


a bark woke me up
I lumbered down the stairs
half naked
and there was this cat
on the other side of the storm door


by the time the rising sun
tapped me on the shoulder
I recalled how the dog
chased the cat
to the dark side of the moon

as I was tying my shoes
I had no recollection
of the overnight rain storms
fairly certain I failed yet again
to attain REM sleep




may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

other than their own


complicating the situation
by pretending tomorrow doesn’t exist
that the eyes
when studied on a molecular level
reveals far more
than any absolute truth

at an early age
the children were taught
the fine art of voodoo doll making
experimenting with various
fabrics & stuffing & buttons
paying particular attention to the
details within the eye

there is possibility in effort
& craftsmanship in magic
a potent combination
reserved for those willing
to practice the art of sight
other than their own




may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

setting water on fire


       1
some assembly required
is what the ushers
told the animals
as they escorted them
into the amphitheatre
seating the smaller ones
in the front rows
& going from there

       2
the sky was all lit up
thanks to a couple greek gods
brightening the flora
that flourished
on the outer edges of the world
abundant stardust
keeping them well fed

       3
this story’s been told before
how a man
removed the heart of another
offered it to the sky
[still beating]
& none of the animals
looked away

       4
the skies opened
as if to say there is nothing
to look at
the show is over
be gone be gone

       5
there was no place to go
& the rains wouldn’t stop
all the animals in the world
were left bewildered
wondering why man chose
to squander apparent intelligence

       6
it was supposed to be
a day of rest
instead the oceans were on fire




may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

singing the dead march song


they busted the enemy
into bits & pieces
piling some into stacks
tossing others into bins
boy soldiers starting fires
in the alleyways & the woods
talking amongst themselves
how peace is a 60/40 proposition

cabinet makers started putting
out heart-shaped boxes
sold to the military at below cost

they say the casualties
have declined since the rising
of the blue moon
a pseudo cease-fire
a sleight of hand opening
& closing once colorful eyes
burial goers breaking out in song




may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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