BALD JASON'S GAY GOTH BOY BLOG
A Work in Progress…Welcome Back!
Reading old words
written by younger self
with partial memories stirred,
fleeting moments recorded,
stolen experiences
lost in time,
with these bone fragments
left behind to ponder / decipher…
Pieces of a larger whole;
impossible to imagine.
Written by Jason Wright
August 9, 2017
I thought it quite hopeless:
the sinking of sailors
this future of men
historical failures
regardless of numbers
of men you’ve seen naked
when love is your goal
then truth is what’s sacred.
You find what is right
divided your vanity
profound and forthright
provided profanity
your life can be balanced
to challenge insanity
your strife can be silenced
by licensed humanity.
Confession is destined
to threaten the legend
with ill timing rhymes
keeping time with suggestions
of paradigms mined
which cheapen perfection:
to deepen my crimes
I ask myself questions…
Can vintaged affliction
for starters be shagged?
Are satisfied victims
just martyrs in drag?
Yes what of those sailors
you suckled in waves?
That fleet of men cuddled
then left to their graves?
Each master troubled
by freedom from slaves…
Beneath the sheets struggled
bereft of enclaves.
Can seamen be free men
unshackled from lust?
Can jocks with the cocks
that tackled love, trust?
What tax unleashed
by men so deceived?
Can climax be reached
before they’re conceived?
Can we release
when these stakes seem too much?
or will we repeat
these mistakes when we touch?
Written by Jason Wright
August 6, 2017
Secrets they’re uttering…
sound of sweet suffering;
lies so seductive
that saints die to tell them.
The sightless observers
listen to murmurs
of priests spreading rumors
that they might dispel them.
A riddle so simple
it makes your skin tingle;
symbols are sinful
for they hide the truth…
And beasts that still plague us
are priests begging nakedness;
a feast for his holiness
who only eats youth.
Written by Jason Wright
August 5, 2017
make the muse leave
return here tomorrow
sleep beneath seas
or on Kilimanjaro
sleep among stars
or men who are nude
don’t let the muse
prevent or intrude
into what gives you strength
and what calms your screams
your muse will return
inspired by dreams
Written by Jason Wright
August 4, 2017
Afraid of desire
admitted and costly,
Albeit in whispers
of words spoken softly,
Enacted in moments
of uncertain pleasure,
Confused by reactions
of others unfettered,
By reason or choice
by manipulation,
To play the long game
I must not be impatient,
Yet I want it all
and I want it all now,
I must lay claim
to all I’ve disavowed.
Written by Jason Wright
August 4, 2017
Dancing ecstatic
on a Barrel of a Gun
until mariachi band boards the train
and hideous smelling woman’s back fat
covered in deceptive pink
is pressed between slats to assault,
scar, wound and torment
my once focused psyche.
Pig thing whines and runs
as NIN sings
about Year Zero.
Thank Trent! (with a silent Capital G)
Written by Jason Wright
July 31, 2017
Hands held to station
then a kiss for goodbye,
Emotion, sensation
or a beautiful lie?
But I’m not complaining:
Kill me fast…Kill me slow,
Hold me fast to the past
Hold me down or let go,
Shimmer of memory
as tears fall and flow,
Such aching hunger…
Such shaking need…
When I was younger
such things made me bleed…
Time to grow up…
Time!
Leave me be!
Written by Jason Wright
July 31, 2017
I haven’t heard
this music in ages,
Danced San Francisco
with Breakfast in Vegas,
Down underground
& you only live twice,
On New York play list
my life has been spliced.
Over the ground
it’s westward I’m stabbing,
Pimping my sneakers
which aren’t quite worth having,
Ditching the songs
in hope of return,
Lighting my way
with dead stars that burn.
Written by Jason Wright
July 31, 2017
Don’t stop for strangers;
they’re likely fish women,
The sex and the dangers
are strictly forbidden,
The songs and the smells
lead always to madness,
And she that was wanted
will leave your soul haunted…
Will leave and then cleave you in two
through your sadness.
Written by Jason Wright
July 31, 2017
Girl will finish drowning
for the seventh time in four years;
she must be pretty adept by now.
Each She is a fragment.
Each fragment is a piece of Mollie.
Mollie Ann Baker is an imp
who’s initials reveal a faerie queen
beneath the glittering surface
of Tennessee water that her people
refuse to bathe in.
The water spills
out of a holy well which,
when penetrated deeply (and wetly) reveals Tam Lin
in all his naked transformative glory.
Hold tight to that one
and he’ll give you the happily ever after
you’ve been waiting for,
or so the minstrels say.
He always slips through my fingers
when he recognizes me as the Dana to his Zor,
primed for immolation; devastated to be losing me once again.
Thrice damned. Forever haunted.
Faerie Queen Mab (M.A.B.) doesn’t actually
hold the prince as prisoner;
not for love & never for sacrifice.
Blood Queen is happiest in the embrace of
ocean smelling mermaid ghost werewolves,
twice devoured by terrifying thing
beneath what is seen by the sane and the deadly dull.
Mother and daughter,
frothy creature is beautiful, sad,
not entirely human (if at all).
My Mab could teach her a few songs, I’m sure.
My Mab is more than human,
extraordinary beyond us all
and yet sister to worlds within worlds;
she holds us all in her ginger wreathed
collection of dreams, nightmares and visions,
gives us meaning, laughter, mirth
and a sobering empathetic sorrow
that we might appreciate the solace
found within her coils.
Mab, beheld is a monstrous beauty
which wild with grief for events still to come
still gives precious smiles…
And when lucky mustard seed bottle cap talismans
shatter the glass to be pocketed like coins —
with that much luck and a fire of bones
‘neath lilting pipes
on nights when the Unseelie Court
dance naked round Old Oak’s Children
of acorn and water lily…
On nights such as these
our Mab may summon her human type voice,
call through the wires to shock, bless, talk
of when we were once human together
in Michigan type semblance of life.
Lucky am I
for recognizing the wonder
that so many mistake
for imagined mysticism.
M.A.B., My Mab, My Mollie, Queen of Faerie, Sib of my heart:
Bless us all with a sea siren song of words through thine art.
Written by Jason Wright
July 31, 2017
For Mollie Baker
