I Am Sitting Here All Depressed (Jason Smith- Lafayette, LA)

I am sitting here all depressed,

Wondering how I got into this mess.

Did not see what was wrong with me,

I thought you were the answer praise to thy.

I wonder if you know to this day,

How happy I am that you are gay.

To have someone so young and smart,

Gave new found meaning to my heart.

Oh baby don’t you know,

That you are sweet like newly fallen snow.

I wish I was there to give you a hand,

Because that’s what I do if I was your man.

I wish I was stronger then I am,

Then maybe I could pull myself out of this jam.

It is bad enough to be lonely and gay,

Then to have your heart and love just ripped away.

To then have your career pulled out from you,

It is like bend over your getting screwed.

If I did not care for my family and friends,

I would find a means to put this to an end.

But they say that if you do,

Then your soul is eternally screwed.

So now I sit here alone and wonder,

Would I be better six feet under?

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Lunatic (Lily Lechler - New Orleans, LA)

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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...

Let That Fucker Burn (John Chenvert - Napoleonville, LA)

Let that fucker burn. Let the fire crackle like the whips once did— like bone meeting leather, like screams swallowed by the trees. Let the white columns crumble to ash. Not as tragedy— but as truth, unearthing itself from beneath generations of silence. Nottoway is not a mansion. It’s a mausoleum. A lie carved in stone to honor the hands that held the whip, not the backs that bore it. They called it the “White Castle.” A place of beauty. A place for weddings, for photo ops, for pretending that horror can be made elegant if the curtains match the guilt. But no paint can cover what happened there. Blood doesn’t wash out with white linens. And pain doesn’t forget just because you renamed it history. I’m not Black. And I won’t pretend to carry that weight. But I also won’t ignore it. My people—the Guanches—were taken too. Our language silenced. Our land stolen. Our names nearly erased. So yes, I know colonization. Yes, I know what it means to be disappeared. But I also know this— my skin ...

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