interesting times often lead those
living barely on the surface
finding solace in dark & sullen places
often where fallen angels convene
discussing in greater detail
their strongest of all desires
and their willingness to obtain them
at all costs
october two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’m a witness to my own sadness
but I swear you’ll never see it
as you may have guessed
I’m good at keeping it all to myself
I’m selfish that way
you may ask me if I’m doing okay
& I’ll tell you of course I am
for you see the sadness
comes & goes just like the wind
isn’t it funny how that works
today was another b-plus day
much better than yesterday
but as for tonight or tomorrow
that’s still up in the air
if only you would call I’d be forced
to show my hand
july two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
sadness used to show up
unannounced and we’d sit up
until sunrise drinking
whatever was left in the house
I kept telling myself the next time
he appeared out of nowhere
I wouldn’t let him in
but of course that didn’t happen
and he continued to pretend
to be my friend
I told him I was thinking about buying
a brand new puppy
a black one I said
so I could learn how to keep him at bay
and teach him to protect me from
monsters like him
july two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
soft strings stream from the
ceiling speakers
slightly drowning out whispers
floating throughout the
openness of this place
its reverberations caressing the
flame of a single candle
centered atop a corner table
casting a dim light on a
sea of lost thoughts
where two once sailed as one
july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the poetry i wrote ages ago
doesn’t belong to me anymore
the person that wrote those lines
of despair and shame and utter honesty
has long been gone
it’s almost as if he died from self-inflicted wounds
from too much booze and tabacco
and whoring around
from not giving a shit about work
or baseball
or forgetting to buy chocolate and roses
on valentine’s day
reading page after page of the drivel
i want to tear them to pieces
but something inside me
won’t let it happen
because deep down i’m in love with the words
that used to bring me joy knowing my misery
was no different than yours
february two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
peering out my window
clouds gather around
and darken
a once promising
bright day
blackbirds circle above
slowly descending
and squawking
instinctively finding
shelter
thunder murmurs and moans
and i close my eyes
suppressing
a distant memory
knocking
once the showers arrive
i gaze past the pane
your image
refreshing like the rain
falling
december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
i imagined
what it would be like
to be alone eternally
without a soul
in the world
to share life’s
finest moments
as my thought
began to dwindle
into nothingness
she kissed me
atop my forehead
and whispered sweetly
the thrill is gone
december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
sit beside me my child
and listen to my story
where all the people
of the elusive valley
live in harmony
and die in peace
sadness beheld
my child’s eyes
as she cried in disbelief
certain my story
of the elusive valley
had been blown
to smithereens
november two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
innocence is regrettably lost
when exposed to a virtual world
bent on glorifying decadence
through intense selfishness
where powerfully dark forces
can bring an angel to her knees
sending her somersaulting
beyond gravitational forces
that keep this planet in place
october two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
We drove through the cemetery
in the dead of winter
until we found the blue canopy
flopping in the wind
Many inches of snow had fallen
the night before but the plow
had cleared the lanes
A bright sun and dress shoes
hit the asphalt with purpose
As many as a hundred faces
converged on the canopy
in steadfast silence
Gusts of wind arrived from the west
and tossed snow off the roof
and onto the gatherers
Familiar prayers were recited
between coughs and sniffles
and one woman’s weeping
When a bugler played
a familiar lullaby
the vacant faces drifted
in varying directions
whispers of sorrow filling the air
january two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
