Art House Speaks
Art House Speaks is an open mic event in the UAE initiated with the intent to provide a platform for young poets to showcase their talents and share their stories. it also aims to create a multicultural community for poets and a diverse environment where they can share their experiences through their creative interactions with one another.
Co-Founded by; Abdul-Nassir Mohammed, Qutouf Yahia & Safwa Mohammed
ProjectPlatform is a monthly project that showcases the practice of artists, cultural producers and various projects from around the world. It showcases their practices aswell as what informs and inspires them.
"..one of our favorite artists of all time
Mr. G Yamazawa"
I am still tender to death
It always hurts like the first time
My eyes have not yet been tested like my mothers
My cartilage in full function I still bend inwards when ever news hits our
My mother, courageous enough to tell us stories from the past
Head held high
"He was the best man I have ever known" she said
And Though I only met him once
I believed her
I remember his old tired hands
Barely holding their own
Still managed to cup my palm
so tight I could feel the love in his bones
So tight I could feel our pulses sync
Up until that day he was my mothers uncle
But when he let go I called him "Jiddo"
Somewhere, in a parallel space and time, I am looking back at images of me~ young, vibrant, not yet broken by
fate and I already miss me
See I know enough not to stare the future dead in the eye
I know that's how they get you, time is not a gentle lover and I have yet to learn how to fight these delicate
I have yet to slay the dragons breathing fire down my neck
Burning reminders that the worst is yet to come
That I'm running out of good days
And so I wrap my happy up in pretty words and recycled paper. I keep it in boxes made of sandal wood and
cherry blossoms I like my happy in overwhelming amounts and I like it dipped in rose water.
See the thing about pretty packages is, they help us forget to check for expiry dates
But when gas turns into water
Like 21 years of laughter I've kept locked in jars under these lids, turns into vapour
Condensing around the edges
Seasoned by the memory of everything I've ever known to be as salty as love
This is the science of my tears
And when the time finally comes
When I lose all composure
When God touches my life in ways no life wants to be touched
When there are holes in my calendar
Gaping wounds bleeding pus and metal
Seeping into all the months that follow
And the years that follow
And when all the days I've lived start to look like broken stitches
I hope I can remember how my mother's grey hairs turn orange at her scalp and caramel brown at the nape of
I hope I can remember the curve of her pinky
I hope I can say my father left knowing that every word I utter I speak for the both of us
When the day comes,
I will remember to breathe
I will remember the pull of gravity
I will remember the science of my tears
Is a full circle
Water turns back to vapour
Sweetened by memories of everyone I've ever loved
Like air leaving lungs
This is just as much, the science of my laughter
1 - I love Beyoncé
2 - I'm too loud sometimes
3 - Ive been told, I have awkwardly large hands
4 - I'm a sick beatboxer
5 - I don't share food
6 - I believe there are 2 types of people in this world, ones that finish their sentences and the other
7 - Every birthday my father tells me the same thing, you're getting old . But dad, have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?
7- Every birthday my father tells me the same thing, you're getting old,
He reminds me that life will wait for no one
brace yourself for the oversized ice cold snow ball that people call the world he said, don't let your mind be controlled,
Have secrets that will always remain untold, if we didn't believe in you...your mother and I...we would've probably have you sold.
6- I believe there are 2 types of people in this world, ones who finish their sentences and the other who've acquired a voluntary form of ADD, understanding their attention isn't to be taken so absently
At a time you hear negativity spurting out of someone's mouth just go, bluebeeerry,
"You will never amount to anything, Can't you do anything right? Why do you always"....Monkeey
5- I don't share food
And I know what you're thinking, RUDE, no..
You can have my sibling, but not my food, but that does not include what feeds the mind,
We can share thoughts that intrude your brain, get chewed by the brain cells and decide what you choose to seclude and what thoughts are valued
Lets learn from each other, digest each other's experiences like they were our own, and excrete all the shh....hold on
4 - I'm a sick beatboxer
Thats a lie...I don't know why I added this..
3 - I've been told, I have awkwardly large hands
They don't understand, that its these hands that have held my family and friends together through times when their kingdom was falling apart,
That these hands demand to cup all your pain and store them between its many tiny creases and COMMAND them to evaporate
That it's these same hands that will involuntarily stretch out to pull you up if you're ever in need of one
That it's these very hands that will reflexively reach up to the sky and shoot down to SMACK you in the face if
you touch my food...you think I'm playing?..
2 - I'm too loud sometimes
I refuse to let my terrible singing voice stop me from chasing my dream as an opera singer, I've lost many friends, I'm sorry...
But as a son of an averagly proud father, I've been taught to never feel muted,
That my voice can be crafted into a sword or a shield, populated within my vocal cords
And as a brother and a friend, I refuse to stay silenced when my voice is needed, a simple word can make a
My son...he said...shut up.
1. I just really loooove beyonce.
.."two other organizations here in the middle east that inspire us are Nas with Notepads & Rooftop Rhythms"
We started Nas with Notepads as a group that aims to promote quality poetry in Khartoum. Our main purpose is to attract genuine and outstanding poets and a loving and truly interested audience for evenings of quality poetry and spoken word performances in an intimate and cozy atmosphere.
Our overall mission is to promote, using the creative process, a platform through which youth can both make a substantial impact on Sudanese culture and project an image of Sudan that has yet to be seen.
Abu Dhabi's 1st Ever Poetry Open Mic highlighting the best poetry and performance talent in the UAE brought to you by Black on Black Rhyme-Abu Dhabi and Jean Hellon Productions
"The Art House Speaks family stands for freedom of expression, love of language and the promotion of a well-spoken, well integrated community"
Poem: Lujayne (Say This Heart)
If you ever feel like your soul is being unhinged from your spine
Remember that your body is not yours..
And if your soul wants to wander off sometimes, don't hold on to it so tightly
There is more to the world than what anyone can ever tell you..
how odd is it.. when they tell you..
you are limited to a mind that u will never fully understand.
Baby.. If the northern winds ever mistakes your heart for a dandelion..
If it tries to scatter you into the arms of people who don't know how to handle delicate things..
Pick yourself apart
Breathe in that northern wind
And let it out
Say this heart is made of thunder and shards of the wars your father fought and the ones your mother endured
Say this heart is made of swallowed fear
Made of nights when your prayer mat was the only thing keeping you sane
Say this heart bears love bigger than itself
Say it pumps life to everyone you touch
Say this heart..will not be phased by a little northern wind
When they ask you where you got the confidence to walk the way you do
Tell them your grandma walked with so much grace and strength, she shook the ground beneath her feet
Tell em men broke at the sight of her
Tell em they tried to find a flaw but the kindness in her heart shone so bright that people couldn't even find the
darkness in themselves anymore
Tell them you and I still strive to be something close to the woman she is
When they leave you behind...
When they wear you out
When you are not enough anymore
When you are overlooked like a wilted flower
Don't let their names echo in your heart
Echos only happen in empty rooms
Say this heart is everything but empty..
I will always remind you..
That your palms can hold everything if you just stretch them wide enough
That your eyes have all the answers if you just stop apologising for asking questions
That all the brightest colours are in the brim if your smile
Say this heart is home to gardens you grew yourself..
Say you.. will never be wilted flower.