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    Let's express ourselves! Literacy helps free the mind! Literacy helps build community! Our voices matter more then ever! LouisianaWords.com is the home of Louisiana's LGBTQIA+ writers and our allies! We help market new and seasoned writers for FREE! Just submit your work and we’ll get you into our content rotation! You may submit your content to louisianawords@gmail.com or you may contact us through social media! Our summer 2025 season of new Louisiana Words content started Sunday, July 6th! As of January 2025, Louisiana Words has officially become a nonprofit organization! So, we are looking to share the good news with a few live shows across the state of Louisiana. We are planning a Louisiana Words tour to showcase local LGBTQIA+ writers and spread the word about  Louisiana Words, LLC . The show is free! The dates will be Friday, August 29 th  – Sunday, August 31 st . We will be visiting Lafayette, Baton Rouge, and New Orleans in that order....

 

Small talk Innocent chatter Idle gossip But the talk isn’t small The chatter isn’t innocent And the gossip isn’t idle We spend our lives talking, chatting and gossiping Always about others but seldom about ourselves What is so important about someone else’s life  That we spend our valuable time Trying to tear them down? Are our lives so uneventful That we must dwell on others’ misfortune? All my life I’ve been taught to tell the truth. “The truth shall set you free!” Bullshit!!! The truth hurts And my heart aches When faced with my own demons. It is so much easier staying mired In small (not so small) talk In innocent (not so innocent) chatter In idle (not so idle) gossip. I find myself hiding Behind the things that matter most to me. I hide behind the fact that I am intelligent Yet allow others to make me feel stupid. I hide behind the fact I am deserving Yet allow others to destroy my worthiness. I hide behind the fact that I live a life of achievement Yet allow others to make my...

I can hear that music playing again  The bass pumped so loud  It vibrates my bathroom  But no one else hears it  I get it, I do.  Falling asleep drunk  With a boombox in your head  That's what it feels like.  You get used to it  That beat rocking every night  It could be a club in your bath tub  If only you had neon lights  But then again  You don't hear it  Anymore  You don't feel it  Anymore  The beat moves without you  From now on,  Since you're an adult  And the tragic nights Pass onward.

It  was a  warm afternoon in the  Nob Hill District on a beautiful spring day,  when  a  new  homeowner  looked thru the tempered glass looking out towards the San Francisco Bay. People leisurely walking below was the sight outside  of  his windowpane,  w hile inside was a quaint abode with a certain quietness  and a rustic   loo k  he  could not  explain.  He  sauntered over to  a  makeshift  bar: a round table covere d in linen, made of cambric and lace.    Despite  his classic attempts to be refined,  his pseudo bar  wobbled all over the place.  His setup consisted of three upright wine glasses  and  an ’84  Châteauneuf-du-Pap e  s trategically planted on a gold dipped tray  alongside a corkscrew made of  scrap.     There would be a celebration  after the last box was unpacked, commemorating his transit to ...