Urban Poems - Margareth Stewart - Bog

I never thought of myself as poet. Much to the opposite. I would rather regard myself as a writer, an ordinary writer, like someone who writes. Not that I fancy doing it as a fashionable trendy act; like lately, commonly posted in social media as one of the coolest jobs on Earth. I think much to the contrary of all that. I see it as painful as hell. One of a bleeding type. Moreover, if I may quote someone who bleeds well - Nietzsche! I think it as a sort of mission, perhaps too many sins, or maybe, an act of vanity, who know if not an exercise of humbleness... Yes, I live it as a paradox. This is also one of the reasons I deliberately make this edition free. It is not a career. For me, it is art. And, I take art as the place I give birth to new possibilities, testing new meanings, creating myself anew.My poems may have a little of everything. Some of them were officially written in front of the computer; others, I had to beg for a piece of paper and a pen in the middle of the street to write them down - otherwise, I would just forget it. There have been times; I had to park my car anywhere I could find to write them down. Sometimes, I had to write not to cry. This is where humanity begins - where we connect. For Mead, the anthropologist, it is when men fix each other's broken femur. For me, it is when I create a line that touches your heart. And, in between one poem and another, while laughing and crying, we exist. They are quite disruptive in forms, formats, content. I tend to avoid all sorts of classifications, and make them as diverse as they are. Experimental & raw - like life. They aim to bring something new in the horizon - something that maybe reshapes our ways for better futures.I called them Urban poems because they were mostly motivated by everyday situations. There is no grandiosity in the topics. It is what it is like - living in Century XXI. Too many things going on together. This is where I depart. I wish you enjoy the reading.