Category: Poems

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Judged

Confusing DILF picture
adds layer of lust
to bruising filth mixture;
betrayer of trust
who back in the past
when present was future,
through lack of the ask
cast gent as abuser.

*

Doctored exuberance
from strangest of men.

I was awkward pubescence
and patience by then.

My doctor was present
which deftly he used.

Doctor was pleasant
which left me confused.

More than one patient;
Jason inside me.

More than one statement
was latent inside me.

And doctor was plural;
what’s quizzically true
is that doctor was neural
but physical too.

More than one practice.
More than one patient.
More than one mattress.
More than one Jason.

Deranged dereliction
of duty imbued
with strange contradictions
that strangely are true.

Innocent action
or wholly obscene?

Fact that this fraction
unholy was clean.

With no penetration
in sterile space.

And no abdication
of crime or disgrace.

With no policed questions
the proctors undress me.

Priests at confessions;
the doctors molest me.

Doctors are judged
through initial neurology.

The awkward begrudged
judicial apology.

*

And DILF in the picture
looks back from the past
and I am not injured
but was I the last?

And was I the only
or was I just lucky?

With no testimony
at least I’m not bloody.

Written by Jason Wright
August 12, 2019

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Struggle

Last night it rained
I slept in my blasphemy.

Woke up with pain
from dreams of my family.

Choked on the truth
as I ran to the freezer.

Spoke to my youth
who did nothing to please her.

Snuggled with ice
and disguised my not knowing.

Struggled to rise
and devise plan for growing.

Buckled with verbs
and humbled by breathing.

Struggled with words…
Struggled with meaning.

Written by Jason Wright
August 4, 2019

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Taking a Moment

I’m making this rhyme
to fight what I squander.

Taking this time
to write and to ponder.

Grasping suggestions
condoned by the lawless.

Asking these questions
alone in my solace.

Alone in our room
we fill now with others.

Cologne from my groom
distilled from our summers.

History haunts me
for task is a demon.

Mystery wants me
to bask in my freedom.

But I make it hard
although it’s quite easy.

For I am the the starved
and I could fight greedy.

Could drown in the drink
and choke on the meaning.

Backdown what I think;
provoke quarantining.

Could flail to shake crimes
twitch slake my incense.

Could fail to make rhymes
which make any sense.

Could fail in bestowment
to get what I need.

So I’ll take this moment
to see I succeed.

Written by Jason Wright
August 4, 2019

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Ex-cised Ex-citement

I spoke to my boyfriend
and three of my exes….

I broke through the wasteland
of various sexes…

Left message for fourth
with no one inside me…

Saddled and spurred
with no one to ride me.

Written by Jason Wright
August 2, 2019

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Allowances

I want to kiss him
and taste of his lover.

I must abstain
if I want the other.

All taste the same;
the lie that I tell.

I know desire
will send me to Hell.

I want to read
and weep through the diction.

Allow me to breathe
and keep to the fiction.

Allow me to feel
all the lies that we tell.

Allow me to heal
and despise what we sell.

Allowances given.
Allowances taken.

From what is allowed
we may not awaken.

What is allowed
may infest us inside.

What is allowed
would best be denied.

Written by Jason Wright
August 2, 2019

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That Moment in the Reeds

A part of each other
that makes us both sad…

It’s hard to get over
what we never had…

Our love was requited
but we were a mess…

Inside recited
what made us obsessed:

The tint in those skies.
The feel of the wind.
The glint in your eyes.
The scent of your skin.

The kiss that meant nothing
until we were gone.

The kiss that meant something
because we were wrong.

The kiss was abandoned
unknown in the splendor…

The kiss never happened
although we remember.

Written by Jason Wright
March 26, 2019

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The Whale Trilogy

1

Pain radiates
through smoothly shaven flesh,

Unseen skull
in burning wrapping paper,

I skitter to share
what it seeks to prevent…

The years are a bitch
and I ache to betray her…

For words in this gloaming
are enabled by night…

Even when tinged
with the heartbreak of sorrow…

Thoughts freely roaming
until morning sight…

Might seem unhinged
come the light of tomorrow.

2

There was a morning, a day, a hot afternoon
where I thought my life would change…
where my wandering
had finally altered my direction…
but it wasn’t meant to be.
Perhaps every day is like this for others…
but the day I am thinking of,
the day of sex before the sermon,
I believed that I’d finally arrived
somewhere I was meant to be,
only to learn across the years
that I would seldom ever return,
and I wish I would have known
how special that time was,
how precious those moments.

It’s altogether different
yet somehow the same
when watching you
watching whales…
when the music you share
nearly kills me with it’s mournful beauty –
giving me fever chills and death spasms
before my fever breaks
and I’m allowed to dance
in the trance of our shoegazing
dream pop.

In the fever
all that could comfort me
was the seemingly old
but younger woman
with the ghost on the porch…
An echo of that first reading
joining my pain across two different eras.

3

The first would have been discovery,
and on the very brink of puberty
as I stumbled through that sea of trees
to find a validating fiction.

And now the feeling: brotherly,
yet still cherry stink of nudity
as I’m humbled by our deities
to bind an animated friction.

And the proof
it is not fair
but the truth
is he’s out there
begging for money,
trading sex for drugs hungry
while the whales circle round us
tasting sweetly table scraps.

And the lie
if there is one
is that life
is a shotgun
because life hasn’t drowned us
baby please don’t go like that.

Written by Jason Wright
April 19, 2018

For Sean (Mobley) and Steve and Anthony.

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Drugs Are Quick

In snowcapped Vermont
artists interpret MADNESS
in nine songs that jangle
pleasantly through
my short term memory,
where they fade away to nothing,
save vaguely happy impressions
of experiences I wish I could hang on to
for longer than Ambien will allow.

Xanax RATTLES in my pocket
as seemingly female
child rearing occupant
makes other passengers
noticeably uncomfortable…
the smell of talcum powder
makes me think of boyhood erections
and vaginal cancer.

The sound of “Kryptonite” comes from
3 Doors Down
and I’m dragged back to San Francisco
drunken backseat passenger ride
from one unknown location to another.
THE MAN beside me is wearing my black clothing,
my leather collar,
while I am wearing someone else’s dress…

What ever happened to that Dorothy looking shit?

So intimate to see him wearing my goth rocker drag
while I feel the cool autumnal chill
on unwieldy knees which have never felt more naked.

…My Head Is Spinning…

Gay gangster rap pours into my brain
as latex allergy flashback rips me in half
on preacher boy’s beautiful blonde cock….
and that last time was totally worth it.

The Midrin has thankfully done it’s ruby stained work;
Thank you Peter Murphy (The Scarlet Thing is actually in me)
and I’m dancing at the Kit Kat Klub
where all orientations
are surprisingly segregated
when angry heterosexual cis-woman
calls me a faggot
before I turn to make out
with her stupidly aroused boyfriend
just to spite her.

Off the train and I stop at random village pharmacy
for cough drops
before Jumpin’ Jack Frost
tells me we’re done:
just 2 more meetings and out…
I’m lucky it’s still Tuesday
because I’m gonna need a drink.

“Do you want to begin?”

Back in the dress I wore
so preacher boy could see me naked,
and I have no idea that 18 years later,
on the opposite side of the country,
I’ll still be scrawling about him singing
“Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered”,
“When You Wish Upon a Star”
and assorted unspeakable lyrics
that he traced across
my unguarded vulnerable ambition.

This part sucks
but it’s just a draft
and doesn’t need to be as perfect
as Cocaine Sex in
countless naked backroom dance parties…
bodies writhing in dark congress,
riding waves in darkened corners –
pain, disappointment, lust & loneliness
expressed in acid light,
opium torture and heroin bliss.

Feed me water.
Slake my thirst.
Let them drink wine!

Just give me cum, prayer, piss and whiskey.

Written by Jason Wright
March 6, 2018

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DEVASTATION

Kissing Josh. September 1998.

When I met him,
a prisoner’s attempt to break free.

My relationship.
His deniability.

He was so forward the night we met.

Terrifying.

Couldn’t see he was teetering on the brink
just to kiss me.

For Josh –
Who’s kiss I’ll never forget,
who’s random phone calls haunt me to this day
and who still has plenty of magic
(even if “The Magician” doesn’t recognize it as such).

I scrawled this in my notebook on the train sometime last week and just got around to transcribing it here. I hope it finds you well.

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LOST

The pained expression
as he wrapped his arms
around his head,
as if to hide
from the words he knew he must say;
the risk he must take.

The tears that fell
from his beautiful eyes
as he confessed
that the heart of us had been lost.

The strength that I
had never possessed in the past,
unfamiliar as it surged to the fore…

Was it possible
that I had built a temple
out of my shattered childhood
only to have him ripped away from me?

The way we barely breathed
as we collapsed in random bursts of suffering,
exquisite,
aching pain of love gone wrong,
gone sour,
gone ignored too long
and now barely recognizable.

We lay together that night,
together,
yet cleaved in two.

Yet we never degraded,
never cursed,
never accused,
never,
never,
never completely surrendered to shame or fear.

This hardship,
this torment was honest
and brave,
and long overdue;
I know that now
and I thank him
even as I yearn for my other half.

For 10 days
and 11 nights
I have fought for
the mere hope,
the slightest chance
that a lost romance might be resurrected.

I don’t want to be crushed
by the loss of him
or bereft of his touch.

I fight for my own survival
with lessons that may save me,
yet beyond myself
I yearn for the forgotten look in his eyes,
the curve of his lips,
the taste of his joy, satisfaction, surprise
and that virginal lust for passions met in kind.

I want to give him
what in ignorance
I have so long denied him,
he that I treasure most,
he that I cherish above all others.

His need,
his confession,
his longing has inspired a sea change
within me.

And if he might only look
there in my culpable remorseful eyes,
perhaps he will find what it is
that he can no longer find on his own.

With every glance I seek to say:

I am here.
And I love you.
And I am in love with you.
And I curse the day
that I ever made you feel
you weren’t worthy of my best.

I will extend myself to the best of my ability,
beyond what I have done
for any other love,
any other lover,
any other man, woman, parent or friend.

This
I swear
with a glad heart.

For you have made me a better man,
and a greater man than you would be an impossible quest
that I would never dream of
or wish to accept.

Find me Aaron.
Find me.

I am waiting in the dark
to lead us into the light.

Written by Jason Wright
August 4, 2016