jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “rebirth”

finding myself millions of miles away


how often I look to the stars for answers
even as a child sitting on front porch step
sadly confused what had brought me forth
here in this house of merriment and madness

passage of time often blurries the obvious
blending permanence with imperfect escapism
scrapping together true change from within
hitching magic carpet ride to nearest galaxy

temporary visitations have become the norm
familiar faces nothing but a distant memory
could it be I long to return to the womb
desperately desiring to be born again




november two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

remaking herself


she so loved porcelain
telling me how she wished
she could be reborn this way

I said all I know is papier-mâché
but would do my best to
make it seem as she wished

it’s difficult to make amends
and rebuild a life that was
meant to live just once

but here I am reconstructing
making papier-mâché
out of porcelain
so that she may live again

I whisper into her inner ear
challenging her to make
herself
defying those prevailing winds
attempting to tear her apart




june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

excommunicado


sometimes I’m a little late to the party
and sometimes I forget to show up at all
either way there is constant commingling
going on between this world and the next

come sunrise strangers begin to stir
chatting amongst themselves in the parlor
recounting the previous night’s events
and taking bets on my reappearance




may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved

counting down the days


oh glorious night settle into darkness
and let me tell thee whom I give my life

I belong neither to sky above nor sea below
and from all accounts was burst forth from
scorpius some thirty-three light years ago

though my days on earth have been counted
on one thousand and one hands
it is a far cry to say this was ever my home
for the glory of goodness lives not here
but rather in a place and time that knows no end



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

waiting to be born again


she bent over and whispered into my ear
and I heard every single word she said
but I did not move and barely breathed

it was as if I was trapped in a daydream
and every single person I ever knew
walked past me as I lay dying

there was so much work left to be done
unfinished landscapes and hidden rainbows
manicures and photographs
dusty bookshelves and unlit candles

holograms and talismans dangled before me
like a mobile swaying above a bassinet
and then I realized this was not a dream
but rather I was being drawn
back inside of her


june two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

pomp and glorious circumstance


so I hear everything happens for a reason
which certainly includes my birth
a byproduct of an irish girl
and a self-determined misunderstood man

sure I got kicked around
but that was for my own good
degraded and humiliated and put in place
for no other reason than to be reminded
exactly who was in charge

but as the bible says a man must leave his mother
and cling to his dreams

but my dreams were awkwardly inconsistent
and so I ran away on god’s command
and became a soldier child
joining the ranks of the finest of misfits
who learn to forget they ever had a past
and learn to kill without thinking or feeling

out on the fringes there is no need
for marlboros or whiskey or california weed
there is only the desire to survive
by sipping on desert spring water
and feasting on exotic butterflies

and if you are fortunate enough
to die a violent death
there is an even better chance
you will find yourself adorned within
a field of the brightest wildflowers


december two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

assorted tulips and daffodils


first freeze came overnight
like a woman’s hard slap
on an unwashed face
but when the sun came up
unopposed
I knew it was going to be
a good day

I imagined little ones running ‘round
chattering like robins competing
to be heard
gathering resiny pine cones into
yellow buckets
stored in the garage as
dead-of-winter kindling

meanwhile atop the hill
I move about on hands and knees
digging up and dividing bulbs
replanting the baby ones
giving myself plenty of reasons
to make it through
another Iowa winter


october two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

made in the shade


these fears inside I lay to rest
as setting sun bows and
curtsies one final time

I’m off to chase grander stars
hosting brighter moons
orbiting other oceans
sent on my merry way
accidentally
a victim so it seems
partially of my own accord

there are no sad marches
no guns to be fired
no motorcycle escorts
no victory day parades

there are no flowers or polaroids
or guestbooks or folded flags
no children sniffling
or women weeping

from now on the future
is my present
and whatever good I left behind
would one day become
a necessary ingredient
to grow the shadiest of trees


january two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

a child is reborn


she survived the dark forest
with unimaginable courage
her recovery spectacular

though the past is incomplete
its mysteries will slowly dissolve
replaced by translucency

according to testimony of others
she is here for good reasons and
destined to do something special


september two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

far side of the sun


amid dark winter nights
I lay out glorious plans
to conquer the seed
the wind and the rain

the whiteness of the world
inspires me to envision
perfect days where irises
bloom under moonlight

sacred revolutions seem
as remote as paradise
testing my patience
from far away places


january two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

her next creation


she spoke with forked tongue
but I understood
every word she said

she said I had been dead
for three days
before resurrecting
my consciousness

back wandering the earth
I was sent searching
for a flower yet to be born

strolling beside a copse
instinctively I stopped
and squatted and became
mesmerizingly lost
as the glass petals
slowly unfolded into
another world



october two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

locked inside pandora’s box


I hunker down in a hawkish grotto
where nobody can find my prize
where the light of day
seems a light year away
and hound dogs
are just a figment of my imagination

there is plenty of food for thought
and sweet nectar can be tapped
from these ancient walls
measuring ten stories tall
adorned with objects
painted on throughout the centuries

exiled into this self-imposed solitude
I am at peace with my new mission
guarding the evils
locked inside this silo
hoping and praying
the world lives beyond its darkest days



april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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