I’m the one of those who thinks that when you name an artwork, you’re limiting the others to interpret it at it own way. I like to think about freedom, changes, human evolving, emotions, energy, melting pot … What do you think?
We forget the days of
Our ambiguous bodies.
Young frames, stretching
Away from the weight of gravity.
We were aware of neither
Death nor life,
Thus words of dislike
Would not yet cling to us,
We were too young.
Too unaware of the words
If only, for our mind’s sake, Continue reading The Children’s Way
(knocked out by fear)
Surrounded by restrictions,
She is trapped between
Her desires and her prohibitions
Walking with a ball and chain
Wanting to escape
Fearing to rebel.
I am tired of this fishbowl.
You have a clear view of the world but you can’t touch it.
You’re born with opportunities even when you’re not handed any.
You hit one bump in the road and give up.
Hands up. Continue reading “Fishbowl” by Sarah James
For the People!
Why for the people? It should always be about the people.
We want to invite all readers of Genre: Urban Arts to become listeners to a new element of our diverse creative space.
During the podcast, we’ll discuss art in various spaces. Music, poetry, graffiti art, spoken word, amongst other things. We’ll also talk about creating that book, writing that blog post, making that creative outlet, and above all identifying yourself with art and it’s benefits towards a happier life.
For the People!
She stands tall
Staring out at the waters beyond
“Bring me your tired, huddled masses!”
“Don’t turn away!”
Her voice lost in the cold winds of change
A tiny tear, falling down her face.
We walk on eggshells
Tiptoeing through bars
Pronouncing each and every vowel
Dotting our I’s and crossing those T’s
Otherwise someone might become accusatory
Continue reading Cracked Emotions
Have you ever felt to run away?
From all the people.
From all the responsibilities.
From all the domination.
When normality becomes destructive!
Ever thought, Continue reading Freedom calls.
I’ve always described it like
time moving too fast and too slow
all at once.
The other day,
it was heavy.
where no air could come in.
I was too small to exist,
but too large for my body.
You were windows,
leading me through a hallway.
Through a narrow space
on either side,
you provided a pathway for me,
pulling me through the casement.
A relentless cover,
setting me free.