before the television
there was radio
before FM AM
cool call letters like KSTT
doctor DJs spinning forty-fives
warriors & wolfmen too
the airwaves always were
& will be the place to be
whether laid out on the floor
with no place to go
or taking the magic carpet
for one final ride
january two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’m like a transistor radio w/many channels
what song would you like to hear
now god is coming through loud & clear
in the form of the twenty-third psalm
an invisible hand reaches out
advancing the dial from station to station
red hot chili peppers take to the waves
road trippin’ with their two favorite allies
joplin & meat loaf singing a duet
sinatra & winehouse as backing vocals
wrigley guests in the television booth
singing take me out to the ballgame
there’s no such thing as dead air
not as long as I’m spinning the vinyls
late night shift quickly coming to an end
I leave you with the last waltz
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I found myself repeatedly moving the dial
clapping randomly at small somethings
flying in my face
sent in one by one by some
strange god testing my mid-summer mettle
uninterested in my inner well-being
let alone my outwardly comical countenance
instead secretly intercepting frequencies
concocting far worse consequences
involving matters of life and death
august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I heard it on the radio
childhood memories
reformatted for the digital age
revolutionary forces
transformed from past to present
longtime secrets resurrected
playing loud and clear on
intergalactic airwaves
july two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
play-by-play deejay
dominating the airwaves
feets stomping and voices shouting
ordinary citizens rejoicing in city square
they pipe in radio from the clouds
or so the children are told
it’s absolutely magic they cry
dancing the night away
far away high-stepping drum majors
lead troops out of war zones
prisoners bound and singing
bringing up the rear
meanwhile baseball diamond
becomes makeshift refugee camp
address announcer recounting
nineteen sixty-seven world series
september two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I turn the dial to 107.9 fm
but all I hear is ozzie or zepplin
van halen or ac/dc
I tell myself if I want to hear classic rock
I’d dial in 100.3 or maybe 105.7
whatever happened to my once
favorite retreat called rock 108
where I could always hear
something beautifully brand new
no matter how good or bad
I mean seriously
is there really not enough new rock
to make the world go ‘round anymore
the population on this planet
continues to explode
but meanwhile
I’m stuck here half-dazed
(from all the static)
surfing station to station
hoping to find a brand new groove
january two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I was in the garage fixing the radio
when charlie came in
cigarette and beer in hand
wearing wrangler blue jeans
and a sleeveless tee
what in the hell are you doing neighbor
he asked
I told him I was fixing the radio
(the one with the reddish-orange digital display
that usually hangs underneath the kitchen cabinet
the kind you have to use a pen or pencil
to advance the time of day)
he took a peek at me soldering the
red wire to the circuit board
was careful to blow his smoke
out toward the street
as I screwed the cover back on
he asked what in the hell I needed a
radio for this day and age
you know with the internet and pandora
or some such shit
to listen to the dead but of course
is how I answered
and I picked up my radio and excused myself
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 