Louisiana Words Spring 2024 Finale

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 last piece was “Fairy Tale

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 more i

Coffee Shop (Willie Soniat - Baton Rouge, LA)

I write this while sitting at the back table of my favorite coffee shop in a town that I hate that I live in. Like honey added to decaf, I want my words to be sweet but not wake up from your daydream, They are the words that I have trapped at the tip of my tongue, The ones that I drop to my fingertips, and let them dance themselves into existence across my keyboard. If this were a few hundred years ago, I would have these words tucked into the gentle folds of a love letter Sealed from prying eyes with wax the color of a deep red rose And marked by the subtle testament of a kiss that only you knew was there. Something vintage. Though this is not a hundred years ago These words rest in the harsh glow of a computer screen Remembered alongside the scent of white rose tea and a warm cinnamon roll. Sung to a soft choir of piano keys humming in my headphones. Let me speak them now in my mind like I am reading the letter I wish to send to you. I want to start with a greeting but hell

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