Category: Poems

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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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Religious Irony

A one night stand
of the ultimate kind…

I only just had one
inside of my mind…

The sex was so real
I even took pictures…

But the faggot was Jesus
and he read me his scriptures.

If the pictures got out
then they’d all crucify him…

They’d fire his ass
and would not deify him…

And I’d show them to you
but I know that he’s right…

Sex is fantastic
but his boss makes it trite…

His people would hurt him
and no one could save him…

No one would dare
to believe in or praise him…

And I don’t want that;
that’s not why I captured us…

He was just so damned hot
and his beauty enraptured us…

And I wanted to share
that beauty with everyone…

Wanted to brag how
he was so handsome…

I felt so inspired
and this is not sarcasm…

I wanted to share my joy
and orgasm…

But the pictures were burned
and the copies deleted…

My intentions were true
yet by truth were defeated…

But the truth is he fucked me
then his friends fucked me too…

The first time: I loved it
but that group shit was screwed…

Because I’m just as innocent
as any of them…

Hypocrites! All of them…

Peace out…

Amen.

Written by Jason Wright
October 5, 2012

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Smoking. In Kitchen.

“Smoking in kitchen”
is what you had said.

Not what you meant;
least not in my head.

So I’m pressed
against glass
in kitchen
in view…

Stroking,
Caressing
and thinking of you.

You smile at my lust
in the pictures revealed.

My body and thrust
with nothing concealed.

You say that with muscles
I’d be quite unstoppable.

But I have no interest
in being un-top-able.

Written by Jason Wright
October 4, 2012

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Ignorant Child

Sixteen years since
I gave birth to blood…

Escaped from within me
and erupted in flood….

I’ve never recovered
yet it left me prepared…

I now have a mother
who isn’t so scared…

Unless you’re dark skinned
and in power I guess…

Her views are impaired
but her love leaves me blessed.

Written by Jason Wright
October 4, 2012

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Night of Tears

You seem to be safe
but I’m scared to believe.

You tell me you see
while you cry and I grieve.

I’m trying right now
to trust and let go…

I’m trying right now
but it’s hard to control.

I struggle and fail
but there’s progress in truth…

I’m already better:
you’re reading the proof.

Written by Jason Wright
October 3, 2012

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FOUR DAYS ENCHANTED

Compassion is given;
mistaken for lies…

A powerful weapon,
a question…but why?

Why play such games?
Why smile and sing?

Experience teaches
to not trust such things.

Yet I love the way that he sings a smile
and the way that his intellect reconciles…
Logic,
Success,
And things never guessed…
Except in his eyes
filled with things unexpressed.

He can sing,
He can act,
And in short, do it all…

Yet he doesn’t attack
or make you feel small…

His voice is a gift
you’re lucky to receive…

And the passion he carries
makes you grieve & believe…

Yet the power held there
is most naked and strong…

When he whispers against you
while held in your arms:

In that muted darkness
when he speaks to just you…

It’s then that you see that
his power is true.

It’s not just a game
though it isn’t a promise…

Things don’t always last
when whispered in darkness…

Yet I want to know more
and that’s really quite rare…

And I guess I just want him
to know that I care.

Written By Jason Wright
October 25, 2011

For Aaron Sanko

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TWO DAYS WILL BE TEN

Holding hands with Sean Mobley in Ann Arbor Michigan on August 12, 2010: my 36th birthday.

The most perfect kiss
that I’ve ever had…

An innocent bliss
before it went bad…

A smile and glow;
erections and laughter…

That kiss was worth everything;
all that came after.

He passed through my heart
and I barely saw him…

He rips me apart
with the truth of his random
journey through life
and I wish I could hold him…

I wish I could make it alright
and I’ve told him…

I can’t save myself
so I can’t be his savior…

I’m falling apart
and I’m falling from favor…

I’ve crashed to the Earth
and I’m trashed in this crater…

Yet the bliss
of that kiss
still exists ten years later.

Written by Jason Wright
October 16, 2011

For Sean

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Sudden Strangers

September 24, 2011

Such beautiful people;
remarkably strong…

They don’t live forever
and never stay long…

They brush up against you
then kiss you goodbye…

And that’s if you’re lucky
enough to know why.

They make you feel something
and then disappear…

Their absence is painful;
their presence was dear…

This price we all pay
is a heartrending cost…

The feelings we feel
when loved ones are lost.

Written By Jason Wright
October 12, 2011

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THE WRITING

A piece I did September 15, 2011. If anyone can guess what I was trying to convey I’ll be rather impressed. lol

What it’s all about
is there on the wall…

Each letter I type
is a tear that won’t fall…

Each tear is a story;
Each word is a blessing…

Do I really see them
or am I just guessing?

The visions I see:
a man singing sweetly…

With talent that shakes you
and takes you completely…

The man is singing
his beautiful pain…

In my own quiet way
I’m doing the same…

And it heals me to see
that such pain can convict him…

Screaming through poetry;
I’m not a victim.

I write about life,
of sex and of death…

The darkness inside
is what I love the best…

For Michael
and my horrible choices…

For David
and his beautiful voices…

For people I meet at random
while watching…

The writing is back
and shows no signs of stopping.

Written by Jason Wright
September 24, 2011

Guesses about the artwork.

For the record, the art was supposed to be view from my heart, looking down, seeing my ribcage and such. It was clearly based more on a feeling than any anatomy or science! lol

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