#authorof100poemsfor100voices

Note from Les

Love Village, as summer comes to an end, and we welcome fall off the backs of hurricane devastations, unexpected deaths and suicided from children hood remembrance to elderly forget and forgiveness, I want to bring all of your attentions to love.

Love still exists. It still scrapes knees on play grounds and makes the arguments between human’s worth it. This summer/past year, has taught those whom have chosen to listen (to people instead of your heart) that Love is indeed, not possible/not available and has no future. I offer this… “that’s some bullshit.” Love is indeed alive, breathing, kicking and is well. As temperature drops and we adjust to new places, people and try new things, my prayer is that you remember love is not a weird thing to carry with you.

Love is not a strange thing to desire and to hope to receive back. These next few months I will offer you a series of love poems only to be taken and received when you need it most. When you need a kiss on the cheek or a hug and you are all alone…please have enough courage to visit us here at Queeries Blog and get your monthly kiss and hug in the name of Love.

with so much Love,

Lester Eugene Mayers

A Page From My Diary

He said he never liked poetry

Until he heard me speak

Until he saw me be

Powerful

Said it make him think about thangz

Make him feel weird

Make him care about how he feels

Said the way I speak

The way I blend words

Remind him of his momma

Comma

Manifesto/Poem

My name is Lester Mayers, an old name that used to belong to my father whom was homophobic/erroneously informed and did the best he thought he could. I am not him. I look like him a little… BUT I am not him.

I welcome love on the varying scale of intimacy. I do enjoy, JOY and am not held to the ambiguous tales of religion. You see, I am not him.

I see wonderment in lovemaking and flowers and children and people and music and pain. This earth, for me, has been a phantasm of brilliance; so abundant and passionate that I cry when I do not expect.

My God, you are good! I am not him.

I have laughed until cramps, read my own poetry in my own way in Mississippi, Manchester and in Ireland. I wrote songs and poems under trees in the Finger Lakes and created flows in Brooklyn. I am blessed, yes, I am.

I’ve met people. Seen people and look through some. I do not hide well. My feelings show on my face. I think I should change but that quality has been mine all of my life. Sometimes I do not communicate well, so many emotions. I get angry. I get annoyed. I’ve met so many brilliant folks that I know God is real. I say all that to say… simply, very simply and Respectfully…

My name is Lester Mayers, an old name that used to belong to my father whom was homophobic/erroneously informed and did the best he thought he could. I am not him. I am not him at all. 

An excerpt from “100 Poems for 100 Voices”

Love Language

I want to cook for you 


When you need to eat

But only if

You’ll really eat it

I wanna rub ointment on your back

When you need tender love and care

But only if your tender enough to care

I need to write for you

But only when you need help seeing who you really are

Including seeing what possible

I mean when you can’t look at the outside