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“Fishbowl” by Sarah James

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.
You say you have no choice when you have plenty
You don’t want to work for a better life because you feel like you are owed.
I’m tired of this fishbowl

You’re fed so many lies dropping from above you’re missing all your life,
Focused on apparitions of the visions that you’re fed.
This gives you cancer that gives you cancer,
No matter what path is taken – you’re dead.
You say that only the best go belly up too soon,
But where were you when they were still here?
Caught up in your selfish mind
You wish you would have spent more time,
Saying the things, they needed to hear.
Actions speak louder than words but actions also raise fear.
Discrimination and rejection only equates to humiliation.
You’re so worried about the judgement you’ll receive
That’s why you bite your tongue until it bleeds.
I’m tired of this fishbowl
So many fish in the sea and none of them are truly free.

(Photo by kazuend on Unsplash)

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For the People! a podcast

For the People!

a podcast

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.

We are…

For the People!


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I’ve always described it like
time moving too fast and too slow
all at once.
The other day,
it was heavy.
Heavy glass,
where no air could come in.
I was too small to exist,
but too large for my body.
You were windows,
massive 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,
protecting, yet
setting me free.