poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “voices”

three in the morning

I call my brother
he doesn’t pick up because
he doesn’t recognize the number

I say he should start drawing again
       suddenly there’s crackling
                  maybe some laughter
two or three or four of them
         speaking in tongues
telling me to shut the fuck up

I put the phone down
find myself moonwalking across
the newly polished laminate floor

out on the terrace deck
       I breathe in the outside air
                  all the voices
gradually fading away
         the koi in the pond below
beginning to jump for joy

november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

all kinds of new boxes

back in the day
there was but two or three voices
taking up my cerebral space

over the years they fastidiously
multiplied without anyone’s guess

instinctively I learned to compartmentalize
them on their own terms

to the point where they just sat there
boxed in & seemingly content
to converse with just themselves

fearing I had silenced them once & for all
I thoughtlessly redisclosed the terms
soon thereafter finding myself
recreating new kinds of boxes
each one shaped uniquely
be it made of wood or metal or seashell

september two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

familiar is the silence

those voices inside his head
at times went missing for days
sometimes for weeks or longer
each time promising to never return

but the voices never really went far
and he would run into them
at the supermarket
or movies
at the bowling alley and speedway
fast food restaurants
and convenience stores

weeks went by and then years
the songs of his pluperfect past
fading in the background
like little birds left behind
whispering apologetically
pleading to be taken back in

safely inside his warm bed
he pulls a blanket up to his chin
and waits in silence for the
voices to return

october two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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