The Truth (Adam Schexnayder-Crowley, LA)

It was like I had never been alive before. I felt closed in. Asylumed for nothing I could recall. I'd just awakened, yet felt so tired. It was so unnaturally dark. It was as if I could see for miles, but I was looking at nothing. My skin was encased by a familiarity that calmed me. It gave me hope for things I could not understand. It gave me drive for the impossible, but somehow I did not understand what that meant. I was swimming in a pool with no water.

All the nonsensical that surrounded me suddenly turned. I saw a light slowly develop in the distance. And urge told me to go there. I did not know how. I did not know how to maneuver myself to something that I knew was right. I just closed my eyes and wished. I wished for the familiarity to grow strong. Then I felt something push me towards it. I knew once I got close that this hope that enveloped inside, this innate trust I developed for this, had been false. I began to feel my breath shorten and my thoughts go away. It felt like the truth. As time somehow sped up and slowed down, I knew what I had to do. I had to forgive the truth. I had to forgive it for all the things I expected. That's when It all ceased. Everything stopped and I was surrounded by the light.

"Ma'am, You may want your wife in here."

If there was anything that I wanted more than the familiarity was to tell her one thing: forgive the truth.

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Ash Wednesday (Brian Falcon - New Orleans, LA)

It’s forgettable- the number of times I was called a “fucking faggot” as a kid. As a former child of god, I wasn’t expected to know what those words meant. I was taught that repentance was vital to achieving everlasting life. My momma made me go to church every Sunday. I said my prayers as I was told. But I eventually learned that Catholicism was never my sanctuary. Christianity was never my safe-haven. God never stopped the cheap shots. He never once prevented the harassment or pure embarrassment that I felt from the words of my “kin in Christ.” Now, picture me- a helpless faggot, blinded by the incandescent lights of an old catholic church. I was home from college spending Spring Break in my former hellscape. So, naturally, my momma yet again made me go to church. This time, on a Wednesday. It was Ash Wednesday. When I was among the folks from home, I felt out of place. So much that I’d imagine camouflaging myself. Like saber-tooth in hiding. But the difference? I had a far mo...

Louisiana Words Remembers Jorge Arturo

There’s nothing that hurts more than when we lose someone from our Louisiana Words family. But, the beauty of our writing movement is that the words of our loved ones live on with us. On June 20th, 2023, Louisiana Words Allstar, Jorge Arturo, moved on from this world leaving our hearts broken. He was a charismatic and talented human being. Jorge resided in New Orleans, LA and had been active on Louisiana Words for over a year. To honor Jorge’s life and work, we will be sharing his writing and live performances all Summer 2023. Please help keep his spirit alive by sharing his work. We know that Jorge’s words will connect with our readers and we hope to keep his spirit alive. Jorge’s first submission: “The Dog Show” debuted on February 6th, 2022 and is his most successful piece to date. In 2022, Jorge spent 10 weeks in the top with “The Dog Show,” “Weavers,” “They Say Love Kills, This Time It Really Did,” and “If Hell is Real, It Looks Like an Airport.” His la...

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I know how this should be: I've seen it, you see, In soap operas, Movies. Your eyes are closed, As if in sleep. Perfect peachy skin Atop a snow white pillow Under flawlessly matched sheets. The heart monitor, Quiet bleeps. The ventilator, A steady hiss. None of that is this. Your eyes Stuck open Seeing without sight Yellow sclera Dumb tears streaming. Tubes, taped to your face Delicate skin torn Where nurses Repositioned them To feed you To heal you You never liked being told What to do. Your whole torso spasms Spastic, Every 40 seconds. A machine Forces your lungs to act. Your hands are warm From hemodialysis But don't respond When we each grab one Give it a kiss. We spend the day Brushing your hair Telling stories Singing songs. Praying prayers. You're not there. Hospital staff Are more lovely If less pretty Than on TV. When the time comes They gently walk us From the room Close the curtai...

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