BALD JASON'S GAY GOTH BOY BLOG
A Work in Progress…Welcome Back!
Cowering there
beneath the cold swell,
Violin swing;
bequeathing it’s spell,
Showering tears
grey has not faded…
Exists beyond years
in lives of the jaded
who stare at the sun
as pain washes clean…
The music that comes
when we each turn eight-teen.
Written by Jason Wright
October 28, 2017
For Carter Burwell
He’s uniquely shaped
like a patchwork of flesh…
Like Frankenstein’s monster
and love coalesced…
With a talent so bare
and a mood so enlightening,
A mixture so rare
that his beauty is frightening.
An eyes glazed insurgent
who’s wanted and lost…
With lazy gaze urgent;
still haunted by cost…
Who writes and performs
on a stage made of pain…
The ache in his eyes
borders on the insane.
And his music jingled
by others was lovely…
Though form never mingled;
if so it was roughly…
In show strung together;
so blissfully jumbled…
The best of intentions
by those that he’s humbled…
His powerful art
in a story so sparse…
Less than the sum
of it’s excellent parts.
Written by Jason Wright
October 25, 2017
For Ryan
These rambling skeletal nothings
prepare a Shakespeare on the Rocks
that will put you to sleep
faster than arsenic, absinthe, abstinence or Nyquil.
These holes where people once stood
are empty by choice:
“It makes for a better tango partner.” she twitters
as she looks at your palm,
smashes a fortune cookie
and calls it psychoanalysis.
These prickly amusements
are friendly Goddess daughters
when we smile and laugh and congratulate,
but let your drowsy mind betray the truth
and see them bare their fangs
to rip your throated poetry to shreds.
Unless of course you’re doing something
which requires respect or silence…
because then they’ll be making
far too much noise to have noticed.
Written by Jason Wright
October 24, 2017
I missed you today.
[Same Space / No Connection]
My fault, I know…
I hope my lurking
didn’t make you uncomfortable.
I hope tonight will give you
what my presence lacks.
Hope you can help w/ my phone and SNAP
without frustration or exhaustion
because I’m terrified of failure.
More than two months without therapy
and I continue to struggle
with simple exercises of balance and breath.
I’m losing Jennifer
and I could lose myself if I’m not careful.
Need to connect with you –
with him –
with myself more often…
Honest
Lust
Terrified of: Lost
in
LiesThe frightening power when you
stroke the keys –
to make me whimper, weep,
make me cum
with threatened / promised action!
I’m addicted.
Junkie grovelling for scraps
of a childhood seduction.
Breathe my dreams to life.
Because Honest
Lust
Lifted
in
Longing
may free me from this horrible freedom.
allow me to smile at my expensive joke.
to strip lust naked & make it my slave
until tricks rob me of your magic
and kneel me down
to worship all that I missed today.Written by Jason Wright
October 24, 2017
For Aaron
You feel younger
walking hand in hand
with new Christmas decorations
and ice cream fizzle;
turn the music up
but can’t block him out:
I might as well be at home…
this isn’t bad.
Keep it going.
(((((((SPIN)))))))
And out.
She is smiling
through raindrop curtain of music
like drug song.
“Drugs are quick.”
He is gay, young, not my type (w/ extra E),
but I support his artistry
singing in my ears on the train;
this Aaron reading Trek…
“Leave”
with sudden stop in crowded car.
“Driving me wild”
with sadness tremble of wanting
but not quite having.
Taste of man sitting next to me.
Fantasy haunts us.
He knows my thoughts (cuckold mind-meld):
a brave fool to play this game.
End this
to collapse into memory song
of stranger friend…
“No One Knows How It Will End.”
Movie quotes are an invasive comfort
and lonely with no one to recognize them.
Kiss him. Kiss him.
Let him recognize me.
Written by Jason Wright
October 23, 2017
Washed out yesterday
feels distant as dreams
this morning of desperate
deceptive rape confessions.
Did loving / fearing them
make all the difference?
If so, I should
swallow all of
their sorrowful shame
to wake so
inspired and spritely.
Written by Jason Wright
September 30, 2017
Flash on subway
shooting by green / blue couple
and I know that moment
from years before – – is that me?
Is that watercolor smear
a glimpse of my past?
But I don’t know him
and I never looked like the other guy.
Smashing Pumpkins want to stand inside my love.
People have told me I look like Billy Corgan.
Might as well say I look like Humpty Dumpty.
I couldn’t ever be put together that way…
even if all the queen’s studs rode me
for 16 hours straight.
You, sitting next to me:
KEEP READING WHAT I WRITE!
IT AMUSES ME. 🙂
Other song was used
in video of my making,
much to the outrage of a certain Boy in Orange…
I don’t even know the title and it’s on my fucking playlist.
I’d had a nightmare about concentration camps
with this for a soundtrack,
and I don’t even remember that dream anymore
so the song is free to be itself at last.
Drunk trans woman laughs at what I write;
you are no mystery to me and you need not
scream at the others, begging to be fisted.
Nice to meet you Billie. (I transcribe)
Do you only love yourself
when you drink?
Written by Jason Wright
September 27, 2017
Message came through the wire:
betrayal, hallucinogens and lies.
The walking wounded
attacked faithful friend
before shattering the war radio –
Line goes dead.
Shell shocked survivors
shake their heads in confusion;
refusing to give chase to
someone willingly / needlessly
running from them.
On the battlefield of life
in the trenches of drama
former lovers
behind enemy lines of friendship
crumble to Hiroshima ash,
seemingly destroyed
and unable to rise.
“Our armor was useless.”
“Our love was easily forgotten
in the chaos of bloodshed.”
Your madness is endless,
My sadness is friendless,
I will not surrender
to man who would end this.
On opposite sides
of a battlefield vital…
We sing different songs
which have similar titles…
Which share the same message
if not the same score…
Love is a weapon
in a time filled with war.
Written by Jason Wright
September 25, 2017
For Sean
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
When I can’t think –
When I can’t remember –
Can’t write –
I tell myself it’s enough to
breathe, dress, leave, walk, ride.
And when I’m lucky
something connects
like a stranger’s kiss –
an excitement fumbling towards inspiration
through shock treatment lust
or cold water dread
traveling / taking me to where I always wish to be.
I write of nothing
desperate to not lose
what I once believed
and forgot
and was only reminded of on special occasions like
birthdays, anniversaries or when
he fucked that goth metalhead drag queen in Budapest.
I write so often that I sometimes can’t meet other writers
as I’m far too busy writing.
I read this for the others
as the time ticks away
after verses and compliments
and a shared glimmer
in the eyes of strangers.
Written by Jason Wright
September 12, 2017