that black girl is going to Howard
after she sat and waited
and waited and sat
traveled to Minnesota
where they told her to wait and sit some more
even went to the dry places that rains with sweat
where they told her “no“
but wanting it so badly
needing to get what she needed
she resumed her sitting and waiting
she even thought about running back to the palace and settling upon a random thrown
but with faith she sat and waited
and she got it cause she waited

for it to find her

she’s off to Howard
because she gots to go
cause she sat and listened
cause we need her
and we don’t just need her anywhere
because she waited
and was not moved so easily
she saved it

her destiny that is

for what she and where she
was supposed to be
that black girl hailing from the palace of Queens
is going to Howard with fellow queens and kings
there she goes
smile and wave

smile and waive



you ever wake up
too tired
too sleepy
too exhausted
to brush your teeth

but you do it anyway
out of fear
of what people might think

sorta like the straight people
that see gays and trans folks
being beat and say

 absolutely nothing

or a cold dreary day
where no rain or snow falls
and everyone calls that day


like those who ask

why do we hurt the ones whom we love 

while in the process of hurting them


after the coffee house

when I’m finished drinking
my double shots of espresso

with one pump of vanilla
and warm coconut milk


I’ll be tired of being alone
and I’ll come home to you

and you’ll still be waiting
because you know

that learning me means
knowing being alone is important

but it is also my own downfall
you’ll trust that I’ll catch myself


I might come home a little before you
and wait to see you smile at me

A Page From My Diary

He said he never liked poetry

Until he heard me speak

Until he saw me be


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



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”