there are always questions
and not enough prophets to push us
in slightly different directions
it’s the way it goes I suppose
a common phrase
complementing so many
circumstances
the only church downtown
morphed into a 24/7 shelter
hosting mic night
every sunday at noon
attracting seers of all sorts
propagating their doomsday
scenarios
january two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
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where did you come from little girl
and how long did you dwell in the darkness
before making a new appearance
your thoughts are not yet your own
they’re transitioning from a predecessor
you do not consciously know
how quickly you’ll learn to retool
building bridges & staircases to heaven
all in less than a lifetime
real change is of the essence
though you inhale & exhale effortlessly
knowing this time will be different
december two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
self-proclaimed prophet travels
by foot from town to town
preferring the company of commoners
freely imbibing at their
favorite places of nightly worship
passages freely flow by heart
finding favor with patrons
cheering and praising his warnings
vehemently believing
until the hour that the morning comes
signs of the times remain unchanged
he would oft repeat himself
drifting to the next town by moonlight
abstinent and confident
acceptance is but a stone’s throw away
may two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
from the book of revelation
the pair sat in lawn chairs
underneath two olive trees
fire spewing from their mouths
consuming any wickedness
strolling up the lane
earlier they had labored
in their pristine garage
sawing and hammering and
finishing two lampstands
to support reflective light
they exacted their prophesy
for forty-two months
flooding an interconnected world
with plagues and bloodware
meant to tame the beast
despite their divine intentions
the beast prevailed in war
emerging from the underworld
and leaving them lifeless
on a street in salem
the people drank and cheered
and burned lawn chairs
in the bottomless pit
dancing around the witnesses
for three and a half days
the earth began to tremble
and a cool wind filled their
bodies with new life
sweeping them off their feet
rising above a city crumbling
may two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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