Read the poems. Feel the grit. Come as you are.
New drops weekly from Adam Rye™ — queer country confessions in bold baritone verses.
This is where I write it like I lived it—loud, femme, country-soft, and fully uncloseted.
Poems about church trauma, queer joy, bad dates, good weed, chosen family, and the long-ass road to being okay.
It’s all real. It’s all mine. And if you’ve ever felt like too much or not enough, maybe it’s a little yours too.
Raw, healing, messy, and holy in the way I say so.
This Is What Free Feels Like
Four years post-divorce, I finally know how freedom feels in my body. This poem is for every queer soul learning to breathe, rest, and bloom exactly as they are.
Not Too Much
They called me too much. I call it being fully alive.
This poem is for every queer, neurodivergent soul who blooms too bright for the boxes they were given.
Still Here
I’ve got poems now. And a mustache that makes children stare. And a mullet that has seen more healing than your whole church retreat.
Whom Shall I Fear?
A queer reckoning in verse — challenging false fears, political hypocrisy, and evangelical harm. This poem fights back with truth, sass, and spark.
I Thought I Was Healed
I raised my hands like that would fix it. Worship team, front row, graphic‑tee collection on display—My Bad under the apple bite, retro puns plastered across my chest, sweating out the gay in every seam.
My Body, As It Is — A Video Collage of Real Life
A fast-cut, queer music video collage filmed across Saint Pete. This isn’t a traditional music video—it’s a vertical heartbeat. A body in motion, raw and radiant.
When I Was a Cartoon Masc
A poem for the church-safe cartoon I used to be—and every queer kid who had to perform masc to survive.