Category: Jason’s Favorite Poems

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SHADOWS AND A VISION

The man in the house is a dream
not yet woken…

A devilish angel
their God has not broken…

He stands in that darkness and
nothing corrupts him…

Escaped from this prison
and it cannot touch him…

But it haunts his eyes
and I want to soothe him…

Want to caress,
connect and move through him…

But I cannot touch him
for ghosts don’t exist…

Yet he felt so alive
on the night that we kissed.

He appeared in my room
and awkwardness followed…

His thoughts deftly filled me
yet made me feel hollowed…

We wandered the streets
and I saw he was right…

They do look like paintings
at this time of night.

We shared our stories,
of pain and of drinking…

And I’m going to Hell
for all I kept thinking…

Between flash of eyelashes
time slowed to such length…

Seduced by such visions
of vulnerable strength…

Such moments were fleeting
for friendship was needed…

The slut deep inside me
confessed and conceded…

For he hears his heart
far more clearly than I…

He’s somewhere beyond me
and I don’t know why…

Returned to his home;
overwhelming and minimal…

Leaving him there was both
haunting and criminal…

The shouting and smells
seek to silence; malign him…

But he will survive…
This ghost is alive…
And the houses he haunts will never define him.

Written by Jason Wright
OCTOBER 10, 2011

For David Hull

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UNDER CONSTRUCTION

The previous week
and he was demolished…

A wave of destruction
that left them abolished…

And the light in his eyes
is pain sheened in laughter…

That light in the darkness
could lead to disaster…

But that light reminds me;
combines us together…

Commonality comforts;
so hard to surrender…

And the sound of his songs
and the taste of his lips…

The touch of his hand
wrapped in my fingertips…

And the way that he smiled
with such controversy…

For Bauhaus and Siouxie
and Sisters of Mercy…

The way that he watched me
and wanted and waited…

The curves of his lips
left my own fear abated…

We were both still destroyed
yet acknowledged and known…

For that moment the lonely
learned they weren’t alone…

He gave me that magic
and time somersaulted…

Wave of destruction;
enraptured and halted…

True we’re destroyed
and under construction…

Yet can’t help but smile
at our introduction.

Written by Jason Wright
September 21, 2011

For David Hull

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I WANT TO FUCK YOU

When you stand next to me
with smile that you give…

Not reflected in eyes
your disguise starts to give…

And I want to deliver you
into such madness…

Want to wipe out
the ache and the sadness…

Want to eclipse you
and hurt just a little…

I think that you’d like that
and not just a little.

’cause although you’re strong
you’re surprisingly green…

Though you’re black and you’re white
and all shades in between…

And the looks that you give
seem to lie and divide you…

But I so long to see,
your truth
and believe me:

I’d like to see you
with me deep inside you.

Written by Jason Wright
September 20, 2011

For George,

who was told a few hours ago.

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CONFLUENCE

Dreams of grandfather
confessing his love…

Memories of children;
school can be rough.

Remembering dreams
filled with men and with kisses…

What it was to be young
and often how vicious…

It all seems important
but is gone in an instant…

It all seems so fragile
yet oddly insistent…

Every blink of my eyes
brings more thoughts to pin me…

It all seems so varied
yet crashes within me.

Written by Jason Wright
September 8, 2011

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WISHING

March 26, 2011. This was the last time that I ever saw Sean in person.

Wish you were here
and that things were the same
as they were when I met you
with no one to blame…
with no illness or madness
or distance between us…
I wish you were here
with desire to fill us…
I wish you were riding
and we were together…
I wish we were writing
and we were forever…
I wish that the others
who found you were kinder…
My wishes serve as a constant reminder
that wishes mean nothing in the face of disaster…
I wish I could hear the sound of your laughter…
I wish I inspired it…
Although it sounds sappy…
I wish you the best and hope that you’re happy.

Written by Jason Wright
August 26, 2011

For Sean: who inspired much more and deserves so much better.

Original comments from Facebook.
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Art is a Mirror

Wasting away…
Ten years lost to illness.

The moments
between us
are filled with such stillness…

Cherished,
Exchanged,
Sharing our stories…

With chapters
in common
and frank allegories…

He gives it to me
and I’m touched
without touching…

He whispers to me
and I’m flushed
without blushing…

He leaves me
with passion
transcended to form…

The canvas
is thunder;
his heart is the storm.

The sea of emotion
by these colors rendered;

the work of a man
who never surrendered,

The man in the painting
who’s insides are bruised…

Is haunted by faces
that used and abused.

Some of the faces
are drugs that he’s taken…

Others are ghosts
that still leave him shaken…

Some are illusions,
Others invented,
Some are the sins that he’s never repented.

Others are faces
of boys he’s not dated…

He thought that he had
but they really translated
into nights meaning nothing
except what he’s losing…

For riches imagined
and instrument moving…

The face is the horror
of waiting untasted…

The face is my mirror…

The face of time wasted.

Written By Jason Wright
August 14, 2011

For: Johnny Vaughn, who’s artwork inspired it.

Johnny V passed away a little over 6 years after I wrote this. He was a caring friend when I deeply needed one. He and I had shared history but his adventures had been with people who were only ever on my periphery and I cherished each and every story that he gifted me with. He was also a brilliant painter and gave me the work that inspired this poem, though I also put in as many references to his tales that only he might recognize. I’m gratified that he read this and had such a positive reaction.

Rest in Peace brother.

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Weekend / Weakened

Awakened with hope;
quickened with laughter…

A smile for child and all that came after…

But not long at all,
And I cannot leave,

I struggle to smile…
to breathe and believe.

The week has wreaked havoc;
made weak what was strong…

I struggle to smile…
to be and belong.

No matter the struggle;
how great or how often…

At times to be strong
one embraces exhaustion.

Written by Jason Wright
July 21, 2011

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May 31, 2011:

The bald boy dancing on the pole
is amazing
but I don’t want him.

Yet I want to fuck.
Want to be swept up in something
and forget what I am.

I drink.
I’m buzzed.
And I can forget the horrible weekend.

This is something close to what that bitch felt on Friday.

I dance and I sweat and I drink and I talk to the pretty girl named Ashley
who just broke up with her boyfriend of 4.5 years.
Men are dicks.

She and her friends talk about the balls on my chin.

I pretend that I’m normal.
I pretend that I don’t feel ill.
I smile and I laugh and it feels good even though it isn’t real.

When I leave I vomit on the sidewalk.
It tastes like pop rocks thanks to Sex on the Playground.

The Breathe Me song echoes in my head
and it won’t leave me alone
and I’m grateful.

These words pour out of me.

Typing is magic.

Written by Jason Wright
May 31, 2011

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The Promise of Love

You were only 18.
I was 20 + 6.

You seduced without trying
and then hurt me for kicks.

But first came the smiles,
the passion and laughter…

The promise of love
that preceded disaster.

The heart of me: ruined.
The spark of me: broken.

The pain made me wish that we’d never spoken.

For the child that lived
deep inside of me cried…

And the ghost of him haunted
although he’d survived…

8 years suffering
followed instead…

Until I embraced him
and let him be fed…

And the child inside
was nourished and lived…

And I faced my demons
and learned to forgive…

And you and I spoke
of a love that was killed…

Yet the friendship we’ve made:
the promise fulfilled.

Written by Jason Wright
May 11, 2011

For Travis

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The Boy in the Shiny Black Dress

No whisper, plea, cock or song
has penetrated deeply in ever so long
not enough to be felt
Just the hand he’s been dealt
The boy in the shiny black dress.

With eyes made of riddles
telling lies like they’re gospel
the boy is a wizard who needs to be seen.

In the lacy black darkness
those eyes hide a hardness
that the frilly black silk tries to harness obscene.

My words make no sense
in the light of such madness
The light of the day drives dreams dripped in sadness.

But what of the truth
in the dark of such magic
The night of such lies is what makes us both tragic.

And there is no song, cock, plea or whisper
can charm the illusion behind the boy’s zipper
not enough to be felt
Just the hand he’s been dealt
The boy in the shiny black dress.

Written By Jason Wright
April 23, 2010

For George: Who Was There Though He Wasn’t.

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