Category: Poems

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Love Lessons

I hurt someone once
by being unfaithful…

The memory hurts me
but makes me quite grateful…

That I learned this lesson
and will not repeat it…

Even when others
might leave me quite heated.

For I can’t control
my passions / attractions…

But I can be faithful
within my own actions…

I may flirt and smile
with consent of my lover…

And I may imagine
that he’s with another…

And I may write poems
both sacred and naughty…

But only my partner
shares my bed and body.

I love that by this
our love is not lessened,

I love that he trusts me
and doesn’t feel threatened,

I love that he loves me
and I love him too,

I love that the words
that I’ve written are true.

Because someone once hurt me
by being unfaithful…

He was jealous and angry
and often distasteful…

I gave him my all
while he told mostly lies…

Even after the point
when we’d said our goodbyes.

So this new love is cherished
and acknowledged for rareness…

This love permeates
my every awareness…

I’m grateful that my love
with Aaron still thrives…

And maybe this love will last
all our lives.

Written by Jason Wright
Sunday, March 10, 2013

For Aaron, Mark & Michael

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Torture

My life is a dream
where I walk underwater…

You can’t hear me scream
or acknowledge my slaughter…

With friends who assure me
that at least I look fine…

They could use some of this;
they say all the time.

But do they believe
that their lives are not lucky?

My dream is a nightmare
where I’m drowning hungry.

I imbibe everything;
that’s part of my curse…

I’m drenched and I’m drowning
but dying of thirst.

I eat and I drink and I laugh and
I fool them.

They don’t see my sickness
as I smile through them.

They don’t see the weakness
behind my blue eyes.

They don’t see my smiles
most often are lies.

They don’t see my demons
or struggles to tame them.

They don’t see me dying
and no one can blame them.

I feel I’m a soldier
that’s been taken hostage…

I try to survive
but I’m just so exhausted.

Written by Jason Wright
Saturday, March 9, 2013

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Life and Survival

In two-thousand-nine
my life was sublime…

Feeling finally whole
after such a long time…

But it wasn’t to last
and it wasn’t to stay…

I learned to survive
and forgot how to play.

Survival is fine
when that’s all you’ve got…

In two-thousand-ten
that mattered a lot…

But just hanging on
isn’t really like living…

Just understanding
is not like forgiving.

In twenty-eleven
my world fell apart…

I lost all that mattered
to me and my heart…

Yet still I survived
as a ghost of myself…

Until love brought me back:
I became someone else.

And that someone else
left in twenty-and-twelve…

And I left life behind
that I could save myself…

But there’s life and survival
and I’m caught in-between…

Perhaps I’ll choose life
in twenty-thirteen.

Written by Jason Wright
Tuesday, March 5, 2013

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The Jungle of Truth

Today I can’t sleep
for I have many thoughts…

And the will to express
what may well be lost…

You wanted the facts
and I’ll answer with truth…

But remember I warned you
that tears were my proof.

I’m tired of feeling
so alone and afraid…

I’m tired of hurting
and feeling betrayed…

I’m tired of sickness
yet fighting for life…

In the darkest of moments
I long for a knife.

I struggle with urges
destructive and soothing…

I wrestle emotions
both deadly and moving…

I try to stay calm
and I try to relax…

But it’s hard to stay strong…
and those are the facts.

Perhaps they’re too cryptic;
these poetic answers…

They taunt me and stalk me
as if they were panthers…

They circle around and confuse
and devour…

They force me to choose
and drain me of power.

Yet it must be worth something
(my life) if it’s wanted…

The truth is a jungle
of facts that are haunted.

Written by Jason Wright
Tuesday, March 5, 2013

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Life and Survival

In two-thousand-nine
my life was sublime…

Feeling finally whole
after such a long time…

But it wasn’t to last
and it wasn’t to stay…

I learned to survive
and forgot how to play.

Survival is fine
when that’s all you’ve got…

In two-thousand-ten
that mattered a lot…

But just hanging on
isn’t really like living…

Just understanding
is not like forgiving.

In twenty-eleven
my world fell apart…

I lost all that mattered
to me and my heart…

Yet still I survived
as a ghost of myself…

Until love brought me back:
I became someone else.

And that someone else
left in twenty-and-twelve…

And I left life behind
that I could save myself…

But there’s life and survival
and I’m caught in-between…

Perhaps I’ll choose life
in twenty-thirteen.

Written by Jason Wright
Tuesday, March 5, 2013

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ZOMBIE

The video plays
and I see her alive.

She’s been dead for years;
I’d forgotten her eyes.

There’s a part where he fucks me
with a mask that’s removed…
and I could not remember
until I saw the truth.

How can someone alive
be so very dead?

The video plays
and gets stuck in my head.

He wants to destroy it
but just doesn’t see…
that when he was alive
he was buried in me.

I cradle his shell
and I weep and inquire…
wasn’t he there
when he showed me desire?

Was I always alone
and alive more than most?

Was he always so sad?

Was he always a ghost?

And he weeps
there’s no answer
and he quakes at my touch.

And I show him I loved him
and ever so much.

We cry at the memory
made flesh and erection…
and she smiles from grave;
success;
resurrection.

Written by Jason Wright
March 1, 2013

For: Jason, John & Deana
who still haunt my dreams.

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ZOMBIE

The video plays
and I see her alive.

She’s been dead for years;
I’d forgotten her eyes.

There’s a part where he fucks me
with a mask that’s removed…
and I could not remember
until I saw the truth.

How can someone alive
be so very dead?

The video plays
and gets stuck in my head.

He wants to destroy it
but just doesn’t see…
that when he was alive
he was buried in me.

I cradle his shell
and I weep and inquire…
wasn’t he there
when he showed me desire?

Was I always alone
and alive more than most?

Was he always so sad?

Was he always a ghost?

And he weeps
there’s no answer
and he quakes at my touch.

And I show him I loved him
and ever so much.

We cry at the memory
made flesh and erection…
and she smiles from grave;
success;
resurrection.

Written by Jason Wright
March 1, 2013

For: Jason, John & Deana
who still haunt my dreams.

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A CRUCIFIX (OF POPSICLE-STICKS)

Once upon a time…
And long long ago…

You said if I died
that you’d haunt my ghost.

You said that my eyes
looked truly inscrutable…

You said that our children
would have been beautiful.

And now I must wonder
if I died after then…

In the Autumnal chill
of two-thousand-and-ten…

Because you’re not around
and yet you still haunt me…

Sometimes you scare me
and others you taunt me…

Sometimes you’re silent
or seem to be cruel…

And sometimes I chase you
and I look a fool…

Still others you smile
with tears in your eyes…

Like you did late last year
when we said our goodbyes.

I loved you for years
and you loved me the same…

Until life came to call
and we then had to change…

The changes were many
and most of them painful…

The experience left me
quite often disdainful…

I fled to an island
of solace and grieving…

I dreamed of not telling you
I would be leaving…

But it would not be right
and it would not be me…

I loved you for years
and I know you loved me…

And I write out these words
as I weep and I tremble…

A ghost of myself
that survived disassembled.

Written by Jason Wright
January 4, 2013

For: Mark Daniel Adams
– Forever –

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To Dream of Keys

I’ve been dreaming about keys
to trains and to hearts…

I’ve been scheming on leaving
on a train that departs…

From deep underground
where I live in the city…

A train we’ve not dreamed;
so silent and pretty…

A train made of truth
and sealed by my heart…

My train of thought
was once ripped apart…

And so I dream of keys
that may bring back our dreams…

We once dreamed of trains
and how strange that now seems…

But we once shared your visions
so I’ll give you this key…

In hopes that you may
yet in dreams visit me.

Written by Jason Wright
December 24, 2012

For Janice Jeffrey

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Would Be Assassins

I’m mostly a bottom
yet in dreams often top.

And walking behind him
I imagined a lot.

I dreamed him impaled
on my bliss and more.

He begged for it
weeping
and struck the right chord.

I thought it quite shameless;
this dream of seduction.

I confessed it
complete;
no thoughts of destruction.

And then I was told
what I couldn’t have known…

Before I was loved
betrayal was shown…

And my lust turned to sadness
and quickly unraveled…

That anyone hurt him
or made him feel fragile…

Though they couldn’t break him
they basically tried…

They wounded the heart
where my love now resides…

And they may now be friends
and they may have forgiven…

But it kills me to think
that he may have been victim.

Written by Jason Wright
October 15, 2012

For the three people who inspired it,
who aren’t named here as to preclude another cycle of pain.

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