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We are working on a portraiture project that will be on exhibition soon. Come have your photo taken to have the opportunity to become a part of the art!
We will also have Genre: Urban Arts No. 4 Mags on sale as well as other Genre Merch.
Read more about MKE Fringe Fest below:
On August 27th – 28th, 2016 the MKE Fringe made its debut in downtown Milwaukee. Following the rich tradition of Fringe Festivals, the Milwaukee Fringe Festival is a showcase of a diverse collection of artists that call Milwaukee home. From theatrical actors to painters, musicians to tap dancers, performance artists to playwrights, MKE Fringe is a joyous celebration of what makes Milwaukee’s culture vibrant and extraordinary (MKEFringe.com).
There will be over 30 acts as well as a plethora of vendors. Come to support Milwaukee Creatives! Visit MKEFringe.com for more info.
In a large group setting,
the talented background player
begins a foray into melody
that results in frustration
to those unaccustomed
to such liberal motifs. Continue reading The Revolutionary
a poem by Shirley Jones
In the history of words suffragettes fighting for rights
badges of honor queer an insult to some but a fortune
to others who wish to tell it slant & mingle fact with fiction
as they try to copyright our words we must reclaim our names
This appropriation is unnecessary for the power of language
has been distorted & used against us
a poem by Mark Kessinger
I wonder what the winds are like
at Cuba’s four thousand foot peaks.
Is there a space-age drone, military grade,
that can hover at the top like a gull
gliding into the jet stream, stationary,
peering down to let us see the 155 mph winds
sharpen the granite ridge to a razor edge.
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?
I’ve always wondered why
white peoples gods’ chiseled
them out of cold hard marble.
Shaped and sculpted their
fragile skin into being.
My god didn’t mold me.
She met me
halfway between hell and earth.
She asked my name
and wiped my tears.
She gave me a gentle kiss Continue reading Marble
Swimming through the waters
Both deep and cold
Guided by the current
So swift and bold
Will I just drown on my own,
Or will I find a new home?
While the sea is bigger
Than the lake at hand
I can find new worlds here
Floating away from the sand
Can you find your way to me,
Or are you cast adrift at sea?
– B. Alan Hart
I don’t want to play, any more stupid games
I’m screaming out fuck that Continue reading No more games, gloves off
If you like what you’re hearing, add @blame.ju.
Within the Inferno, I probed further to find a morsel of information unknown to the public and uncover the lost records. Files upon files of her personal affairs lay scattered throughout, not quite guarded, yet crucial all the same. Photos of her family and friends appeared in many of the hundreds of files, mislabeled and filed within another file. A nesting doll of facts I couldn’t wait to sort through. I watched her nephews and nieces grow up before my eyes, her sisters and brothers having fun, her friends on their escapades. To think this dreaded dragon had family was beyond me. They seemed happy and content, unlike my colleagues scorched from her flames―no topical ointment could ever soothe. Continue reading Tales from the Inferno: Lost Records
Years from now they’ll speak of the horrific crimes of this land like everyone except us was culpable. Elders will tell stories of the “dark times”, where evil flourished. People will be wary to speak his name, the demon who reigned. His kingdom nothing more than debris and decay. His servants will return to the shadows until a new false prophet is inaugurated and yet they’ll still call us great.
They’ll still call us great
They’ll still call us
It took a lot to get me here
I suffered the reign of you
For many years
You broke me down
Opened me up
Dissected my soul
And still couldn’t find
A way to love me…
She passed them down to her daughter
As if they were precious heirlooms
Carefully tended to and treated well.
She gave them to her daughter
To keep them alive
In order to be passed on
To the next generation.
Her daughter didn’t want them.
She refused to hold onto
And birth them into the future.
So she chose to not inherit her mother’s
She wanted to create her own destiny
Design her own joys
Build her own happiness.
She was tired of the generational curse that sickened her family for centuries.
So she broke it.
And proudly carried her
Into the future.
Have you ever had such a mischievous thought that can fuck someone’s life up? Yeah, me neither…….SIKE! Maaaaaaaan, it can be so hard sometimes to have that type of power over someone and choose not to use it against them ESPECIALLY when you can’t stand a motherfucker! However, I must say, I’m very proud of this new thing I’m doing, just letting shit go, let it roll off my back and keep it moving. Before my level of pettiness had to be fed whatever negative emotion I was feeling at the moment. My main objective was to make the other person feel my pain. After all my plotting I still felt unsatisfied with my “victory”. Something had to give and that something is me, I had to change.
I noticed the change was needed for many reasons, one being I just had to grow the fuck up, being childish is not a good look for me especially when I’m raising a child myself. I don’t want my son to hold on to resentment and pain the way I used to. Another HUGE reason was that when I held on to that disappointment, pain, pride, and ego it started to cloud my perspective and overall my whole vibe changed, I started not to like myself. People who loved me started to dislike me, people who didn’t know me felt a weird energy and it was hard to connect with others, I was the source of the fuckery. Also, let me tell you when you act ugly you tend to look ugly too! Most importantly, I want to feel like me again. One day I woke up and decided to just stop the bullshit and start healing my soul from whatever it was that caused me to behave so damn petty.
Painting was a major part of my process. I started painting more and one thing lead to another. I can honestly say if I wasn’t so petty in the past and didn’t realize I needed to refocus I probably would not be painting and creating art like I am now. Rebuilding burned bridges was also part of my healing. I reached out to old friends, even exes to simply apologize for projecting my pain on to them.
Moral of the story, being petty sometimes happens and it may be well deserved, but what are you really gaining? Instant satisfaction of what? All you are really doing is stealing an opportunity to grow through experiences. Feel the pain, anger, disappointment, and let go of your ego, your soul needs it. Deal with it personally and move on when you are ready, no need to be petty.
I wrote your name on an empty page and
suddenly it seemed full.
Our memories fill in the blank spaces when my words aren’t enough.
They never are.
Yet you hold onto them the way you held my heart
when it was too heavy for me to carry.
You are home. You are
tear stained ink on pages of poetry for quiet nights.
You are the words I seek but never find.
You made us beautiful to read about.
– Samihah Pargas
– IG: Shadesofherink
Having a muse is kinda the bomb. You have this figure that ignites creativity in you. This person can also be seen as a trigger. Alas, that’s where I am. I don’t know if I like living like this. I can, however, attest that this fucking feeling has taken me across the country. I think that’s the biggest change in my life. Confidence. I started focusing on myself. I had spent years trying to help others. Grant it, some people don’t want help. Forcing it on them actually causes them to “hate” you. You are trying to do something for another person, but it is seen as controlling? Sigh. Continue reading 35,000 Choices Revisited
Little towers, peaks undercut from the sun
Stretching higher before they’re gone
Rushing waves and sweltering winds
Brush harshly, scratching rock thin
A catalyst of working art
A conversation to start
Passing eyes linger upon its shadow
Watch it grow and grow
mark upon the setting stone
stretched before its blown
brick by brick
they rise and stick
a monument to our progressive wit
as dusk proceeds to vanish
our laughs turn to anguish.
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