The Monosexual

The Monosexual


It is a state of distress
The failure to caress
The whole of a gender 
To open up flushed flesh
To just one sex
To kiss only woman or man
Alone

We lucky few who've known
Plenitude in the embraces of all
Tasting at the banquet we call
Life the oyster and the clam
Imbibing the green fairy
Absinthe on our tongue having it
Both ways

Pity the monosexual missing the rich reward adorned
Abundance and nourishment from our Plenty of Horn

Jack
Druid Hills
6/19/11

Death of a Peacock

Flipping slick pages of a news magazine

Full page photo Duchess Kate future queen

Long white veil over her white smile

White bouquet in hand lacy sheen

Next page over the eyes of Arabia

Staring from behind a black veil

A woman with black flowers

In her other hand  a photo from jail

Her bearded husband

Of all the news glossy or not

The story that frightens me  most

From Wuhan China a Panda

Chases and kills a peacock

Jack  5/6/'11

Musician, Age 25

Musician, Age 25

"He's lonely and you're a whore."
A witch in New Orleans told me.
We both laughed, 'cause we knew
It was true.
Not that we weren't friends; good friends,
Traveling to the city that care forgot
On my 21st birthday, staying in a red
Brick room with a French Quarter balcony,
Where I played guitar.
I got sick on oysters, but that didn't stop
My old man friend, 65,  from hitting
On me every fucking day...

It's been four years now, as I let him put his
Moist hands all over me; and I give his everlasting
Hard-on a hand job 'cause he loves it when
I hold his dick. Loves it more holding mine,
In so many showers we've taken together
I feel wet just remembering.

Thought I'd have to live with him when
My Parents threw me out at 24.
Let me keep my studio, but threw me out.
Out, now there's irony. I'm no gay-boy.
Then came a miracle. I met a girl.
I met two girls- her and her best friend.
They invited me in and I went in again and
Again. They bought me meals; gave me gas;
Bedded me in their dorm. Gave me whatever.
Damn, if I didn't go from whore to gigolo.
And there I play my guitar, and sing every fucking
Day. 'Cause, you know? I'm living the wet-dream.


Jameson 10-5-'15

jolt

Life dumbs down to dark

Gray Southern winter skies

Colorless crumbs for food

Bloodless afternoon belies
Energy half asleep

Like a mammal in hibernation

Until you come 

Offering me compassion

Gentle and caring from your

Embrace letting rise in me

Passion like a blazing transformer

Burning in the night 

Jack

1/10/12

Send Off

Your old guitar with its broken string
sits still in my living room
two weeks after Nashville
two weeks after we were high 
on Starr's porch and you hugged me
saying how freaked out you were
frightened like a child shaking
as I calmed you told you normal
would return as I knew it would
the day we had our send off 
the day pre-cum glistened on you
a pearl on the family jewel
offered erection for me to grasp
that pearl a slippery symbol 
of our sexuality fluid but never
getting there five years after
we first shared that pink source
of your pleasure your compass

Broken string on your old guitar
broken words that failed us
our love recedes into those 
memories of walks and food shared 
warm showers in a host of states
where we slept together naked
forgotten now as you answer my
question which of our travels did
you like best "they all had good 
and bad moments" no recollection
of standing on an overlook above
Asheville in a moment of pure 
camaraderie
discerning the waxing Moon

As you continue to gaze into the
Looking Glass be careful as you fall
deep within your mirror lie strange
experiences to shatter complacency
shatter your fragile self-esteem bending
the straight road you imagine lies
before you because your path of life
is like the road to Starr's filled 
with curves and twists that will
discomfort you ransack you just as 
we probed ourselves for seven years
from excitement to disappointment
no point in my being on your mind
swallow now that the song is over
it was a fine affair an enterprise 
of great pith and moment
of great pitch and foment
or whatever it is you recall or pluck
on the old guitar strings of your ego








Jack Jameson
 The End of 2015

song

Now there is no longer choice

No longer free will no turning back

No longer can I not be

Your lover because

More precious to me than your

Semen your sperm ejaculated hot

On my flesh still warm to my taste

Wet from your orgasm of surrender 

To me

More precious than that nectar

Are your tears

Spilled down your face from

Eyes open to me 

Naked and hurt

Pleading

For a love we already have

And that neither of us can deny

Any more than we can deny

That we breathe 

Jack 1/12

Bent (The Curvature of Space and Time)

Bent (the curvature of space and time)

Ninety-five years ago young Albert

Proved  straight lines do not exist

Space is curved as celestial bodies

Fall into one another

Since I was eighteen nine bodies

In my orbit  prove the nonexistence of

Straight men celestial or otherwise

Young Alfred's scale appeared when I was one

Of my nine men seven wed women

With seven I had sex for years

Six are fathers three I fucked

A fourth asked for it but I had no condom

Jack 4/6/'11

note: Albert= Einstein
Alfred= Kinsey

djccwbjjs

Language

Language

Humans created words and language

To extend the joy and wonder of life

Just as the denizens of caves

Painted images of aurochs bison deer

And the hands of shamans

Jack 4/5/'11

----

My Type (a work in progress)

My Type    (A Work in Progress)

Where shall I begin

Flamenco dancer

Wet dream at  thirteen

Dancing up against me

Under the live oak tree

Shaking her red ruffled dress

Stomping her feet in the grass

Until I ejaculate

The boy at  Episcopal camp

Bedding me a night of mutual

Masturbation

Pretty pearls of metaphor

And discarded innocence

Hairless chest abs of 15

Eyes of wonder skin with sheen

Scarlet blond hair delicate neck

Presenting herself to me on our bus

Across the hills of Virginia

Lucious lips invent a story of her life

A month later sweet as honey

She finishes  her virginity and mine

Melting like ice cream on the cone

Playing Chopin all passion Botticelli's

Pianist with El Greco's  fingers

Hard as his keys and as white in the moonlight

Grace as he emerges from the salt sea

As we open up ourselves on the beach

Jacksonville

Six hot weeks of nocturnes

And so they go the images of my

Memory my dreams my existential

Embodiments Afro-American to Zapotec

Not the ontology of desire

Not want not need

Now my type dives  in over our heads

Flowing with  music  penetrating with words

Jack 4/5/'11

------ 

The Distance of Death

My parents told me in '63

Directly

My grandmother had died

A day before I saw  in dismay

An Ambulance take her away

That very last day

Of my witnessing death

For  the next half century

Death came by phone

My second grandmother dead in DC

My closest  friend's my mentor's murder

Another friend of twenty years  dead of AIDS

My stepbrother and my companion's mother

AIDS and Suicide

Recently my own mother's death

Her fall  my brother's call

Broken her hip her heart

Two days ago the suicide of a musician

A student a friend of my friend

Told  to me as in distress I offered

Neither wisdom nor comprehension

Jack 3/29/11

Senescence

Jack By Dar
Cloudland

Senescence

The flip side of the coin of adolescence

Is senescence leaving maturity for old age

Showing or not accumulated wealth

Experience learning wisdom all the

Errors of foolishness and over-reaching expectation

There on the spinning coin of life all the wear

Rim-dings of longevity

No longer does it matter what the young

Wasted  of sweet youth like thirsty dogs

Lapping water from gutters knowing nothing

Of  Veuve Cliquot in Waterford Crystal

Contagions consumed by youth

Become the medication of the old for

Rim-dings of longevity

Senescence is a mountain crest a vista

Our life stretches below over cities of the plain

From the pool of Narcissus we have climbed

With vertigo with nausea to heights from which
Our choices our deeds our acts of love of need
Are now quiet volcanoes  oozing orange
Lava flowing falling into the cool sea

Senescence is like adolescence 

Bringing new found freedom 

Who cares what bosses think or family or 

Society when death opens like a warm

Abyss before us never a better moment

To embrace  individuality our unique creative

Being to add with ecstasy the final rim-dings

Jack, Vernal Equinox 2011

Winter Fog

Winter Fog

There is nothing like cold fog

Wrapping itself around me

Absorbing the warmth my heart had

Blurring my vision

Of endless bare skeleton limbs

The only thing moving in the fog

Is smoke gray on gray

Like a piano sonata conceived by

A deaf Beethoven the fog envelopes

Consciousness takes over the afternoon

With its own logic its mist eating

The light as its droplets grow into rain
The only thing lacking is a fire

A Hearth to hold it and desire akin to pain

Jack

2/1/11

A Gift from Paris to Savannah

Forsythe Triton, photo by Jack

From Paris to Savannah

Four gurgling geese

From whose  beaks spurt

Orgasms of water

Rising  wet

With wings wide open

Behind the geese Tritons shine

Horn in hand echoing

With streams of water

Sparkling in sunlight

Their arching rainbows

Centered is the white foundation

Basking in the sun's intensity

Solid bright iron ornate

With dancing storks

Beneath the wide lily pad

Above these sprays of water Liberty's

Sunlit naked breast offers nourishment

Jack-- November 2010, revised Jan. 2011

Sheer White

Sheer White

This is my whitest winter

Here in my white deco condo

Adrift on a white hillside of snow

Coated in ice upon which I lose my balance

Fall laughing into the deep snow

From my plate glass I look over

White rooftops as white insects dart

Then turn to fluff to the tiny bits of

Down from the celestial Snowgoose

Or some invisible snow angel

Wisps own the air the Sun

Has abdicated to the cold

The white keys of the piano make melody

Make the white insects of fairy dust dance

And neither ice nor mist melt away

Jack 1/11/11

Dispel Solipsism

To dispel solipsism

Sexually embrace someone

Of the opposite sexual

Orientation as yourself

--Jack 12/16/'10

Thirty

 30

Awash in philosophy

How can I know love

Knowing I am gay

Knowing that I am straight

Worshiping you having you

Worship me with  hands lips 

Cunt cock ass 

Mind spirit geist

Strolling the shore of

Polynesia

Eating a split avocado

Drinking a royal Kir to us

Remembering touching the azaleas

Of Savannah pink hot odorless

Sitting in the mud of the Ocean

Waves knock us over

Salt stings a cut on my foot

The cut is our foot fetish

Tiger shrimp for dinner

A glass of Pinot Grigio

Wondering who Catullus fucked

Lesbia Juventius in a threeway

God banging  Eve and Adam

Until their ribs broke

Ribs became piano strings

God banged Beethoven's Thirtieth

Piano Sonata with finesse

We picked a rose in Portland

Beheld Mount Hood's sublime

White Peak soft white as my beard

Jack 11/10/10

Inspired by a FaceBook challenge to list 30 things about myself.

Sitar

A Kathakali performer as Krishna.

Wikipedia

Sitar

Wind rips the leaves

Sways the limbs

As damp clouds cup

Flashes of sunlight

Shadows and sun catching

Falling clusters dancing through

Alternating patterns

So much of the world is adrift

Turmoil tsunamis volcanic ash

Cholera war bedbugs crawl

Death moves over people

Like the shadows over the fall leaves

A Tornado scatters our debris

And overriding all

Sitar vibrates raga in the stream of life

Meditation unperturbed of Krishna

Jack 10/26/10

where

Where

Doesn't matter where

We live

As long as we can see the stars

Overhead

Hear the sound of the waves of the

Sea

Smell the fresh air

Walk on the beach

Live where the water runs pure

Where there is silence day and

Night

Where time goes by slowly easily

Where the salt water washes away 
Soil of the soul's solitude

Equinox

Sun will set today on the summer

Our hot discontent momentarily

Dissipated in the rain and autumn

Air

Again we cross the line in the

Cycle the tilted Earth

The nuclear star the

Politics lurching from left to

Far right hurricanes in the

Gulf

Not since Plato have such

Actors moved democracy

Moved the poor the uneducated

He warned Aristotle who helped

Alexander conquer the world

Die and send himself into

Exile

All over again as the sun sets on summer

As fall arrives

Leaves turn brown

And our nation surrenders to the

Oligarchs

Jack, Autumnal Equinox 2010

11:11

Eleven eleven a m in a

Morning that will not go by

After a night of sleeplessness

Over your sleepless work

All night work

You love you say

As you cough and twitch

As I bury my face in the red pillow

As I remember at eleven fourteen

On a morning that will not go by

My night’s anxiety

How do I learn to let it go

To let you do as you decide

To let the endless morning go by

Without wanting to push the minute

Hand to a new hour

For now the way

The path the answer

Eludes me as the morning

At long last

Ends