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Lessons From A Dragon: Story of Seth

 

   Have you ever spoke to a cow before? Like a real talk with a cow? What did he/she say? What’s He/she up to? What about a flower? Do you ever look at a Rose and think, “I wonder what your eyes have seen.” How can something so beautiful like a cow get so disrespected? Nature is who we are. “Cooperating with nature allows nature to cooperate with us.” Master Qi

   I was eighteen years old when I first realized There was more to this reality. It felt like an episode from Twilight Zone. I was on my way home from school when I saw it. It was a smoke mist. Not just any smoke mist. This mist was strange. This mist had an awareness of itself. This mist moved as if it knew it was moving. It followed me all the way to my house. It floated at the gate for about twenty seconds before flowing away with the wind. The mist followed me for about two weeks before I finally decided to approach it.

   “Are you following me?” I asked. I felt so stupid talking to a mist. Then suddenly, the mist rose up and flew right into me. It happened so fast I didn’t even realize that I had somehow ended up in my driveway. I was so freaked out all I could do was throw up. My body felt like it had been through so much. All I remember after that is waking up alone in the middle of a cave. Continue reading Lessons From A Dragon: Story of Seth

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Mano-a-Monologue

He thought I’d fail at the monologue.  Thought I’d clam up, forget words.  Thought perhaps I’d run off the stage, humiliated before even stating the first line.  He forgot.  That back in the day, when the two of us sang duets complete with two-part harmonies and eight extremities that kept the same rhythmic time…  I was composer of both parts.  Of all parts.  Mine and his.  And when he failed to show or was too late to even attempt to appease the crowd, first I was a little panicky.  Then resentful.  And finally inspired.  My gift and my curse – to do the work of two with (somewhat apparent) ease.  So, it was I who stopped the show.  First, to make room for grace…  Maybe he was just late?   Then to make room for a standing ovation…  In his absence.  What made him think…hope I would fail at the monologue?  They’re just duets between you and and an absent someone.  And…well…shit…after all, practice makes perfect.  Practice.  Had plenty of that!  One day.  I pray.  To be free enough to live my own definition of free.  Free enough.  To depend on a true duet.  But for now, the grace period has come and gone.  The show must go on.  Mano-a-Monologue.

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Featured Artist: Jaelen Isis

Come view works by Jaelen Isis at Woodland Pattern BookCenter on February 9th, 2018, 6-9pm.

I am a watercolor painter located in Chicago. I specializing in portraiture and mixed media. Watercolor brings forth an emotion to the eye; whatever the piece of art may be, the observer instantly feels a connection as an effect to the natural movements of the paint. The versatility of watercolor contributes to the color, detail, and movement of my pieces. 

 

In my paintings, I portray men, women, young people, people of color, etc. in relation to the stereotypes frequently attached to them. Using mixed media (if you look closely) you see illustrations hidden within the colors and lines of the background and foreground of each piece. Continue reading Featured Artist: Jaelen Isis

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An Open Letter To Closet Feminists

TO THE CLOSET FEMINIST,

I know you believe in equality for all. I know you are passionate about it but afraid at the same time. I applaud you for being a feminist in the first place, whether you are a man or a woman. I know society expects you to go with the ‘status quo’ and that it will shame you if you dare step out of line.

The injustices and ignorant arguments may baffle and infuriate you, and you may want to speak out against them but you don’t because you don’t want to be isolated from the pack. Trust me, I understand. You may think you are alone, but I can promise you there are many others out there who have the same beliefs as you. All it takes to find your fellow feminists is a little courage. Don’t be afraid to be alone, you won’t be for long. It’s easier to be alone with your truth than it is to be in a crowd with lies slowly suffocating your soul.

I too have had moments where I’ve stepped out of the closet for a night, only to retreat back into the familiar safety of the darkness when I’ve been challenged by someone close to me. It’s those closest to us that we usually have the most trouble standing up to. But we have to learn to stand up for not only ourselves but also for those that do not have the privilege of having their screams for justice be heard. We need to persevere so that their throats aren’t hoarse from shouting for no reason. We can do this together. Step by step, inch by inch, unfurl your spines, ground your feet, lift your heads, and step out of the closet.

Love,
THE ONE WHO HAS TAKEN THE FIRST STEP OUT OF THE CLOSET

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The New Birth of Abstract

Life,

I have collected all my insecurities and placed them in Petri dishes. I stare at them on occasion when I want to remember who I am. Maybe I look back at them to remember who I have become? At this point in the experiment, everything sort of just blends together.

Continue reading The New Birth of Abstract

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The Color of Goodbye

And just like that, my life
suddenly seems like
it is not my own.
Your almost-green eyes
stared through me from
a non-existent land,
a dimension I don’t have
the capabilities to reach.
Can I verbalize the color
of your goodbyes?
Is there a shade
to match my pain?
Does a hue of an
explanation exist?

You’re the green the
color of fading leaves,
I’m the violet you
catch in the breeze–
chilly, precise, unexpected.
I will endlessly marvel
at the way I calibrate
into a new mind
when you are near.
Like a distant voice
from the radio,
you sooth my soul.

But now, I wake up
cradled in a nightmare,
riddled with repetitive,
frightening moments, and
there is only static.
In this reality, no matter
what I am doing,
I can’t possibly think
of anything else.

 

 

____________________________________________

Photography: Lanaya

@writing.for.the.calm

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Southern Hospitality

We govern ourselves

according to a moral creed

that ensures that

any individual born and bread here

exhibit warm,

welcoming

and hospitable behavior…

It’s what we refer to as

Southern Hospitality.

Although

it has been mocked

and taken for-granted

you yearn for it

and

we don’t know

how to cope in a world without it…

No dis to

cold shoulders,

mean mugs

and

entry into rooms with empty greetings

but

we learn,

that when you walk into a room,

you greet respectfully

every being.

And we always remember

to appear gracious and courteous

in the presence

of others…

So

discontinue your

side eye,

and learn to smile

and compliment people,

as they pass by.

Let’s make southern hospitality

that much easier, to come by. ..

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Top 10 Posts of 2017—No. 7

My Mother’s Garden

IG: @Notes.by.nia

Read other work by Nia at:

Melanated Gardens

GenreUrbanArts.com

ink and spices.

She is a glass deliciously full

Your favorite song with just the right rhythm

A new pair of dancing shoes

with just enough room to grow into.

She carries herself with a special kind of optimism.

Tending to her garden with the hope

that each year new buds will come back.

Collecting seeds with the promise of new growth.

We are of the same garden.

She planted her roots in me

Teaching me how to blossom.

Gardens have seasons yet she is always in full bloom.

In a word she is perennial.

Permanent.

Unceasing in her love.

Dance mama–

Like the flowers are singing for you.

June 26, 2017

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Top 10 Posts of 2017 — No. 8

Dear Daughters

by M.E. Peters

IG:@m.e.peters

Read other work by Molly at:

GenreUrbanArts.com

Dear daughters,

I hope when you look up at me
you see more than surviving.
I hope you can smell gunpowder
on my torn open flesh-
see the wounds dripping from me
and know how hard I fought
to be your mother. Continue reading Top 10 Posts of 2017 — No. 8