Category: Poems

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Start of Darkness

After night of
angry exhausted questions…

Loaded with
doubt / jealousy / rejections…

Expressing the pain
and the pleasure we feel…

My bitch of a stomach
could not seal the deal.

Tears fall from eyes
I’ve rinsed and repeatedly
cleaned as I’ve organized
words that defeated
and tore me asunder
like peace disappeared
with the heat of the summer
and ice of my fears
with soul crushing weight
of tears from my lover:

We all know the heart is the loneliest hunter.

I’m so very tired
and I’ve hated this night…

But my symptoms are clear
and I know what is right.

I hurt him with thoughts
that he never guessed.

Jealous reminder
of that man undressed.

Devouring fear
that seldom ignores me,

As Aaron convinces…
As Aaron implores me
to live my own life
in spite of my sickness.

My life of death
undone by our quickness.

Tonight illness won
and I know deep regret.

Time to wake up
and I haven’t slept yet.

Written by Jason Wright
July 21, 2018

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Effectual Vulnerability

When he told me the truth
that I’d gotten wrong
it hurt so much worse
and was hard to be strong;
temptation intense:
self harm / sabotage…
I thrive and survive
and contrive camouflage.

Disguise is not weak.

This lie is a wish.

Tis wise to seek
ties to the guys we resist.

For licentious need
is endless exposure…

Keeping friends close
and enemies closer.

Written by Jason Wright
July 20, 2018

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Distance Between Us

Distance demeans us
for now fourteen days,

Distance between us
obscene with clichés,

The grace gleaned atonement
as our love is scoured
in space between moments,
minutes and hours.

The senseless deceit;
seduction perverted,

Less than complete
destruction averted,

Obsessed as I seek
prince burned by charade,

Less than a week
since I learned he betrayed.

From dreams bleak
come night scares;
enshrouding the outcome,

Two weeks from nightmare
I strive to arouse from…

Two weeks resorting
to doubt, lies and whimpers,

Two weeks to sort out
the dream signs and whispers,

Two weeks derided
by sickness and penis,

Two weeks divided
by distance between us.

Written by Jason Wright
July 20, 2018

For Aaron & Brian,
2 weeks to the day.

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The Wicked Samaritan

He stops for the man
who is married to dread

and he tops for that man
who is buried in bed

he doesn’t confess this

just gives me his mixture

to soothe and undress with
dishonest elixir

which damns us together
in lust and veracity

stranded forever
in thrust haunted chastity

you envy this bleakness
where no one consoles me

Men need their secrets
as someone once told me

for honesty complicates
just as deception

consciously motivates
trust as erection

as I read the words
unconfessed by my spouse

I die when: “I want your dick in my mouth.”

the pain is intense
but the lust is mutation

insane that incensed
I conduct masturbation

Written by Jason Wright
July 15, 2018

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Dishonesty

July says goodbye
heading east into August…

The truth is a lie
or at least it’s not honest…

For “the truth” is deceptive;
the term’s a mirage
which no contraceptive
confirms with applause.

Your secret is known
and your lies are the truth…

Turning flesh into stone
despised by my youth.

Written by Jason Wright
July 15, 2018

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Skin Doctor

Afterimages
like looking into the sun
but I must relax and
be present in doctor’s office
before I can return
to the scene of my affliction.

Aaron, in a meeting
is parking the car
near Industrious Therapy
on 52nd Street
while I take the elevator to 6th floor
where I tap the screen and
scan my palm
before writing in waiting room
filled with news reports
which nobody wants to watch.

Skin doctor will observe
my latest continuous example
of flesh gone wrong
as I try to breathe
hopefully and without fear
of yesterday’s potential
for recurrent tragedy.

Help me.
Help me help myself.

Pet Shop Boys sing of another world
of homeless disco drama
in 1993 Little Caesars favorite
in my very theatrical headphones.

Putting pen to paper often helps
when I’ve exhausted other options.

Breathe. Listen. Write
as Aaron announced his ascension.

“Why’s It So Hard to Love One Another?”

Written by Jason Wright
July 5, 2018

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For the Disturbed

In the theater
there is no escape
no respite
from disturbances
however minor
or intense.

I try to ground
try to limit the annoyance
and focus on the other worlds
flashing before my eyes
but it fades into a mishmash
of barely recognized words and actions

I feel nothing
except a mounting terror
that I will disappear again
and wake somewhere unknown.

I pull myself into the present
but I’m just as lost
as if I’d walked into
a completely different film.

I want them to rewind
but the projectionist
is an unforgiving dick
so I try to feel out
what I’ve missed
as I continue to struggle
with language and context.

I ask Aaron
where a character escaped to
but the movement returns and
I can’t hang on to the moment
and having asked twice
in his panic stricken voice
I argue internally –
what are we to do?

I turn from the screen
which has become a spoiler reel
which would ruin the film
when I finally get to experience it
in full.

I weep,
holding Aaron’s hand
as I’m left behind;
he wants to see it with me
but I’m not even there…
just a cacophonous shell
in which I hold my younger self
and try to convince him that
we are okay and that
I know how to get us home.

Outside,
confusion threatens destruction
but I know north from south
and east from west.

I head north
and then east
surrounded by revelers,
I make note of the Avenue names
until I reach Madison,
when I realize
I can navigate towards therapy,
where instinct will kick in
and return us safely to our home.

Written by Jason Wright
July 4, 2018

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Two Twenty Seven

I was going to write to you
about the nightmares you inspired
but amidst distraction
I scrawled: 2/27
and I decided to follow that path instead.

I do that now.
I observe seemingly random behavior
and allow it to take me
somewhere unplanned
until I reach the end.

“This is not the end.”

A bumper sticker
on trashy artsy wall and:

“EAT MY PUSSY SO I KNOW IT’S REAL”

which strikes me as poetic
and insightful, rather than profane…
sad and beautiful
until Madonna’s Sex Book Mix
of Erotica starts playing
and I dance myself to distraction.

Written by Jason Wright
July 2, 2018

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American Idiot

The train is parked in Harlem
where a desperate portion
of Trump’s thousands are now kept
in confusion, doubt and
heartbroken tragedy:
a trauma that will haunt them
for all of their days.

Is this how they were shipped here?
In crowded fear drenched train cars?
Where have I heard that before?

His overcompensating tower
shadows the city,
forever tainting the old neighborhood
of black spanish jazz renaissance…

How many other Cotton Clubs
cross red, white and blue
are infected with his orange sacrilege?

Written by Jason Wright
July 2, 2018

Poem written but untitled on July 2, 2018.

Title given July 11, when Green Day’s “American Idiot” single was reported to have re-entered British charts in response to Trump’s upcoming visit.

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Silent Witness

Air conditioned train car is nearly empty
but filled with conversation.

I wonder why it is
that they talk so loudly?

Impairment? Desperation to be heard?

An aching need to be continuously annoying?

They’re young;
perhaps mentally
they are still in
the noisy schoolyard
and must scream to be observed
in that wave of riotous infants…

Or maybe Mommy & Daddy
never noticed them at all
and they howl for attention,
love and affection
while Mommy
drinks herself
into a senseless stupor
and Daddy lies
forever
six feet under
unreachable.

Howl if you must.
I’m not bothered.

I just hope that one day THEY hear you.

Written by Jason Wright
July 2, 2018

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