Vibed Out at Velobahn

Come vibe out with us while sipping a latte. We have dope local musicians, spoken word, open mic and handmade jewelry! Come be in the presence of creativity.

Tickets purchased online are 10.00.

Tickets purchased at the door will be 15.00.

Come be part of the creation and positivity that is Genre: Urban Arts. See you soon!

Purchase Tickets

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“WILDERNESS” by Michelle Mangal

The most beautiful thing
I have ever known
was you asleep in my bed
me curved around you
one last cuddle
whispering goodbye
in the curls of your hair
before I go to work.

I never knew I could love so much,
That I could feel such tenderness,
Just from you asleep in my bed.

For a few more minutes snuggled with you
I’d miss my train
I’d bunked off school
I forgot who I was.

All because of loving you,
The boy asleep in my bed.

(Photo by Becca Tapert on Unsplash)

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Swimmer by Rania D.

I hold onto remnants of your love
It’s not buoyant enough to stay afloat
The drift of thoughts carry me like tidal currents.
Whirling emotions spiraling into a vortex of solitude
Crushing weight of heartbreak is pulling me downwards
I start sinking
Awaiting total submerge
Frantically gasping for air
It strikes me, I faintly remember
Once I was an excellent swimmer
I reach out and emerge
Escape these dark waters that converge
I’m a diver
and have always been a survivor.
By Rania D.

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Fight or Flight by Jessi Harrison

(for Dana…)

My first reaction is to run.

There is no fight. But I can fly.


For this, I am sorry.


You fought.

You built boxing rings

out of test results. Bowed

gracefully before each match.

Showed your opponent no mercy –

but made sure each hit was clean.


Me? I took a box of matches

to the mats the morning I woke

to permanent emptiness. I made the hospital

dance in gasolined blue/orange flames against

the grayest November sky ever etched

from Eden’s rough draft.


Hey God – you fucking missing a blueprint?!


I took your trophies out of the case

& bet it all on forgiveness.


Almost doesn’t count.

Almost is so close to complete.

Almost – is fucked.


Like – you almost had it beat a third time.

Like – you almost found happiness.

Like you almost won.


Like you almost knew how much you were loved.

Like we almost made it clear.

Like you almost stood a chance.

Like it was almost alright.

Like I almost said goodbye.

Like I’ll almost see you tomorrow.

Like it almost doesn’t hurt.


Like you are almost still here.

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Rural by Jessica Hite

dirt roads.
redder than the blood
that spilled to make them.
glistening dark skin
pressed against
rich, white cotton.

sunday picnic baskets.
the finest leisure day clothes,
black bodies drifting
in the summer breeze.

an orange rolled
every morning
by withered black hands.
a sweetness to cast off
the sour of sickness.

too many mouths;
not enough chicken
or eggs or vegetables.
only cents, instead of dollars.
the living not shared—only cropped.

anywhere but here.
pack up and head north.
where nigger is negro,
still bitter and stinging,
but manageable.

long car rides
to grandmother’s house.
ten kids to two rooms,
but we complain about six.

still dirt roads.
strange fruit has
rotted to the ground.
now bullets chase
black bodies
along with the summer breeze.

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The Pleasure of Pain by Cree Salvai

I don’t know what hurts more.

The knife slicing my hips

Or the fact I won’t see you tomorrow.

We only had but hours to meet.


I don’t know why I feel like this.

I really thought I was okay.

I guess I still just don’t know

How to be sad.


I’m in pain all the time.

But it’s not a sharp pain

like the knife.

It’s a dull,

Lasting pain

A pain you think will

Last forever


Sometimes I question

Why I don’t just try a little harder

To move on.

But then I think to myself:


I’d rather be in pain everyday

Loving you

Than feel nothing at all.