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Genre: Urban Arts Awarded and Ranked Amongst the Top 100 Urban Blog


I received a message from the owner of that received ranking amongst the Top 100 Urban Blogs on Feedspot!
I have been working at this for a little over a year, and only since November 2016 have I had a consistent team of contributors & editors.
I am so excited and thankful that my work and my team’s work is being recognized. You can read more about the list here.
A huge thank you to my team of editors and contributors. Genre: Urban Arts only is viable because of them.
Thank you!
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Frequent Flyer

Ironic don’t you think?

Even clipped

These wings instinctively move with the wind,

They’re slapping at my face

Hoping I fall from the sky

Pulling but I keep pushing

Must be hunting season

Feels like I’ve got a target on my back

Critics don’t cut me any slack

I just smile and keep writing

Silently flying

On my way to the top

It’s a lonely ride

But I’m not ready to stop.


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Dear Child

Dear younger self

Well child

You’ve turned 18

Reached the pinnacle of adulthood, right?

Here’s a rolled up newspaper

Make sure you whack those wolves hard

They mean business

Out for blood

Be wary of those that are familiar

They’ll stab you in the heart, far faster than strangers

Oh, and believe me, not everyone has your best interests in mind

You’ll learn that lesson with time

Good luck, it’s a wild jungle out there.


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Penny with a (w)hole

Sing to me the song your mirror sings
Of copper tones
Flesh and bones
Of spirited, clipped wings
Of vinyl and aluminum
Can you fit your fingers in?
The two holes of the cassette tape?
The rod stem of the woodwinds?
They say a penny with a hole in it
Still plays a tune
If you dare to position your needle
On its bleeding wound
Tell me, do you prefer an audience?
Or an empty room?
Dare to tell them…at the very least
The bullet pierced right through
The music that raised us
Required human touch
Forbidden love…sweaty, gutsy lust
Yeah, sing to me that song
Like only you can
It’s your mirror after all
Your weekend. Your man.
Everyone is sharing this weekend with you
Looks like they’re sharing him too
But they can’t share the whiny croon…
…of the mirror image
That looks back at you
Only your soul
Can sing that tune


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Some things take time for you to appreciate its true value.
Late bloomer or not, a flower is admired for its beauty. Yet, the fragrance in its essence is what’s coveted.
⠀⠀⠀ Continue reading ESSENCE

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I go to the hospital so often

with one undiagnosable illness

after the other

that I can recognise the doctors

and automatically know which department they work for

it only takes my mind a few seconds to place them

after all, they’ve all treated me at least three times

if not ten

my broken body was a toll so heavy

it broke my mind

physical illness

morphed into mental illness

like humans shapeshift into lycans

except this change wasn’t mythical


-oh, how I wish it was mythical

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Non Linear Recovery


I try to remind myself that recovery from trauma does not have to be linear. There are days or weeks where I feel stronger or “back to normal”. Like when I listen to Kesha’s new album while walking down the street and “Praying” comes on and I confidently yell back at men who make gross comments, feeling like a superhero in my timberlands and jean jacket I’ve stuffed with layers. Continue reading Non Linear Recovery

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M.O. (Mode of Operation)

“Life waits for no one”, they said

So I ran

Shoes in one hand and my dreams in the other I ran for life to discover me and sprinted myself to exhaustion

No one told me that I could turn into my worst enemy against the clock of my own making

I am stuck – waiting for the car in the distance to stop running

Waiting for the engine to give out and release steam, unclogging my faulty brain and all the gears that have convinced me that I can not just give it a rest

Let me know when I can stop

When I can stop running after cars in the distance while I am panting out of breath due to unceasing timed tests Continue reading M.O. (Mode of Operation)

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The Abstract Auto-Bio

The Abstract Auto-Bio

The quietest noise I ever made, made a huge impact on paper. Or was the impact felt on canvas? I go in between mediums, like a medium? Okay, so I like double meanings. I am a lover of puns. I wish I could understand the complexities of my own mind. Let us travel into thoughts as they unravel.

Continue reading The Abstract Auto-Bio