The Langston Hughes Project

March 10, 2008

I am honored that someone did a project in my name, The Langston Hughes Project.  I love the fact that they combined jazz with poetry.  To me, poetry is worded music.  When peotry and jazz combine, it is the most beautiful music in the world.

The Weary Blues

March 10, 2008

Someone made a lovely video featuring my poem, “The Weary Blues” on YouTube.  It really displays the emotion of the poem.  Enjoy the video.

Obama 08

March 10, 2008

I officially endorse Barack Obama to be the president of the United States of America. It is time to have a black president.


Looking for Langston

March 10, 2008

Oh my god!  Director Isaac Julien has made a film about my sexuality called Looking for Langston.  I absolutely love this film.  Actor Ben Ellison did a great job portraying me in the film.  He made me look so beautiful. 


Yes! I am gay!

March 10, 2008

I wish to be in the closet no more!  I was ashamed to be gay before, but not anymore!  This is who I am and I can’t change that!  You could probably tell that I am gay from some of my works.  Although I am gay, it DOES NOT change my determination for racial equality!  I will continue to support our long fight to end discrimination.  I don’t see why I can’t be black and gay at the same time.  In response to what is my deferred dream, Oscar and Nella were both right.  My dream is that BOTH Negroes and homosexuals have equality in society.  These two groups are very much alike.  They have been oppressed by society for centuries.  Is it a crime to be black?  Is it a crime to be gay?  I am proud to be black, and I am proud to be gay.

Dream Deferred

March 10, 2008

Tell Me

Why should it be my loneliness,
Why should it be my song,
Why should it be my dream

Trumpet Player

March 10, 2008

I am dedicating this poem to a very special someone in my life.

The Negro
With the trumpet at his lips
Has dark moons of weariness
Beneath his eyes
Where the smoldering memory
Of slave ships
Blazed to the crack of whips
About his thighs.

The Negro
With the trumpet at his lips
Has a head of vibrant hair
Tamed down,
Patent-leathered now
Until it gleams
Like jet—
Were jet a crown.

The music
From the trumpet at his lips
Is honey
Mixed with liquid fire.
The rhythm
From the trumpet at his lips
Is ecstasy
Distilled from old desire—

That is longing for the moon
Where the moonlight’s but a spotlight
In his eyes,
That is longing for the sea
Where the sea’s a bar-glass
Sucker size.

The Negro
With the trumpet at his lips
Whose jacket
Has a fine one-button roll,
Does not know
Upon what riff the music slips
Its hypodermic needle
To his soul—

But softly
As the tune comes from his throat
Mellows to a golden note.

At the Gay Bar

March 10, 2008

I hope y’ all will enjoy this poem.

Café: 3 a.m.

Detectives from the vice squad
with weary sadistic eyes
spotting fairies.
some folks say.

But God, Nature,
or somebody
made them that way.

Police lady or Lesbian
over there?

First Post

March 10, 2008

Hello everybody!  I’m so exciting that I’ve created this blog.  People can read my latest poem here from now on. 


Hello world!

March 10, 2008

Welcome to This is your first post. Edit or delete it and start blogging!