Tag: Inspired by Paul Jason Ferguson

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From July to September

It is September 4, 2021
and I’ve decided that
I’m taking a break today.

I’m at Riverview Campground
and I’m missing my mom.

This is the hardest hitting day
because the memories are Little Jason’s;
our mother wasn’t perfect…
but she had graceful, beautiful,
quiet, unrecorded moments,
which are all I am remembering today…
1 day after what would have been their 39th anniversary.

At times, our mother seemed psychic.

She begged me not to take Jamie to the theater
to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show;
she told me that something terrible was happening
and though Jamie never forgave me,
I knew that our mother believed what she was saying
and I broke my promise and left Jamie at home…

Later, Paul (who I had seen Rocky with the previous year)
called to say that he had been raped across the street from Oz.
She knew. Somehow she knew.

And she knew about Katie.
And she knew about other things…

Back in my memories and
my mother is looking out
across the low green field,
storm rolling in toward our backyard –

I’m a small boy child,
clinging to her mysterious silence,
her wary hypnotized gaze is exhilarating
in its graceful stillness…

The emerald sky sparks
and forms tear drops
over Janet Lynn forest
years before that tragic coupling
will leave me forever scarred
and always haunted;
a dark harbinger of things to come.

Could she see all of that then?
I’ve never imagined that she could…
but who is to say what stirred within her?

“The shameful secret she never shared.”

Written by Jason Wright
September 4, 2021

For Myra Canell

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The One That Stops Him From Feeling

Ian music is song of drug addiction
ascribed to crazy haired Cure fan
who raved about Mood Swings
near Autumn, in the magic of her
midnight gallery opening
I would never witness in the light
of 90’s Ann Arbor Michigan day.

I met him 3 times
before Pizza House friend
cursed his life
and sent him to his smack filled
heroin infused ever after…

But I never knew “the asshole”;
I only remember his kiss…
Paul’s longing description…
Carrie’s guiltless confession…
and Dorian’s unexpected words
which brought all these memorial ingredients
into focus and allowed me finally to mourn –
listening to Numbness on NYC downtown train to The Prom –
no tears –
but a sad smile
and a kiss goodbye
in the same deep water as you.

Written by Jason Wright
March 1, 2019

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The Party That Wasn’t

Four of us there;
though it’s hard to believe:
Bald Jason, Paul
and Darla and Steve.

The latter I stripped
in Ann Arbor fountain
before baring flesh
pressing into his bottom;
concealing our pact
(which they labeled obscene)
and that this healing act
had in fact made us clean.

The nerve that in public
made time seem to end:

Perving the lovesick
with crime through the lens
of twenty-one years
flashing by in a blur…

The party that wasn’t
for the people we were.

A moment of lust
that had built beyond reason,
Momentous trust
in the shadow of treason,
A moment of courage
acknowledged and shared,
Encouraged by touch
though we weren’t prepared
for the judgment of strangers
and friends left outside,
as we puzzled through riddles
with longing our guide,
But licentious struggles
are seldom rewarded,
For all our successes
we may have been thwarted…
For the world gazed in fear
as if love were contagious…
Our fumbled premiere
saw us stumble toward greatness.

Written by Jason Wright
September 20, 2017

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THE PARTY THAT NEVER WAS

Like whispers in the dark
corrupted coven of my youth

The matrix of our lives;
a subtle subterfuge of truth

The damage of desire;
a curse both brilliant and Orwellian…

For nothing can save the damned
but the crucible of rebellion.

Our covenant
was destroying us

A sacrifice
was our need

But high is the price of redemption
and all of us would have to bleed…

But someone would have to begin this quest
into the dreaded evermore…

I was the perfect choice for this mission
because I had bled before.

In the fountain of repression
where the battle was about to begin,

I took my cue from another
and surrendered to unholiest sin,

The pain and the pleasure mingled
as they stripped away inhibitions,

And I understood in that moment
the consequences of our decisions.

The danger of destruction
heightened experience beyond any other,

At last we could face the truth of our pact;
we could finally LOVE one another,

And we understood that this blasphemous act
could save or destroy us all,

But nothing could destroy this moment in time;
nothing could make us fall.

Our clothing was torn asunder
in order to change the coven’s fate,

But still the question remained:
Were we in time or were we too late?

In our minds we’d fucked each others’ souls
in our orgy of repressed lust…

Our symbolic salvation:
Eternal damnation
or renewal of friendship and trust?

The surviving coven members
were a breed both tempered and pure,

Defeating disaster and embracing desire
that no power could destroy or inter…

Sex was our drug and deliverer of choice;
denial our insanity cure…

And so this was The Party That Never Was
for the lovers that we never were.

Written by Jason Wright
July 6, 1996

For Paul, Steve and Darla –
and all of the other coven members who couldn’t make it to the party, because it never happened.

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