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Sometimes you will struggle, sometimes you will win and regardless of either, your words will echo in someone'sheart and mind forever, so don’t stop now. Even if it’s just one person who will remember your words, who will hold them close to himself, and repeat it whenever he goes through a hard time, it’ll be worth it.

-gazergirl // advice from one writer to another

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I am

what once was lost

broken and afraid

the glory which belies the cost

the price that must be paid

Fractional changing of the air

first hint of winters thaw

sometimes here, sometimes there

a kiss from

a slavering maw

Storms which rage,

and flowers first bloom

the turning of the very last page

the bride, and her groom

hope, a sweetly sighing poem

the cold of this forgotten age

returning, again,

to my home

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noblesse oblige

As only a few percent

of the world population

belong to the priviliged class

owning most of the earth’s wealth

It is good to see that there are some

amongst them who put into practice

the so called noblesse oblige

helping there where short coming and

outright poverty are worst

or supporting financially important

medical research such as cancer

but it is not enough

far more can be done

if more billionaires would start

to do the same

instead of finding it important

to own as much as possible

or to blame poverty to be the result

of people’s laziness

Unfortunately such comments can be heard


and I wonder if naivity , blindness or greed

is to blame

none of them sounds good to me


wachtuiltje 2019🗿

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Pt. 1 of it’s all mess here - the series.

I’m so excited to share all 13 parts with you! Make sure to watch for them ☺️ Also, after all have been posted, I’ll be putting them together into a slide so you can read it as one long piece which I’m most excited for so yeah! Thanks everyone who reads, it really does mean a lot to me ❤️❤️

Thank you all for reading and following me!! Your support means everything😘💫♥️

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you follow pebbled paths

to my heart’s destination

how I feel your presence

through worshipping

hands and eyes divine

which penetrate my soul

as the constellations

brilliant in their heated silence

peering through my window

I feel your intimacy

wedded to my dreams

and my heart pulses

with our memories

captured in the scripture

of stars dusting the night

with every encounter

our souls have felt

in histories long expressed

and again renewed

within the bloom of this time’s

early blush of crimson ripening

into fragrant skies


Love’s Perennial



Image: Adrian Chesterman

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echoes of your voice

dance around my mind

lyrics and verses

i know will never be mine

i’ll close my eyes

and pretend that it’s fine

like it was my love

that made you feel so alive

raven // a musician’s love

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i stand

bare and broken

like the feet


so firmly

into the dark asphalt ground

i gaze at the reflection

of the sun in your eyes

and wonder

if i could bring the same light

raven // carpark sunsets

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“i know at some point, i’ll have to let go. i’ll have to be grateful that it happened, and come to terms with the fact that it ended. but it still leaves me confused. it happened years ago and i’m still hurt. he was the only one. my only one. but i wasn’t his only. we weren’t exclusive. he didn’t respect me enough to not put me through this.”

kira malibu

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i want to fall in love again
with the dark brown eyes
that could haunt my shadows.

how his voice softens at 3am
& his hands that search for mine
to examine my anatomy because
he thinks i’m some kind of beautiful,
glistening like dewdrops on morning grass.

i want to see the world from his view;
gloriously standing at the edge of a knife
waiting to jump into an ocean bed.

how he sees through my brick walls by
smiling gently & caressing the roughness
of my thighs, making secret promises only
to my skin that i’ll never forget as he drifts
off into sleep right next to me.

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what happened to your face? why are there so many spots on it?

what happened is there was an imperfection and i wanted it gone so badly i forgot how to think. i know things don’t get better overnight, i know these things. i know it won’t get better but i tried anyway. so came the spot and so came the sigh of frustration.

go put some medicine on it, do you really not care?

i have been using the medicine nonstop for the past three weeks and it has done nothing. it has only taken you this long to notice.

you are so ugly, you’ve got to get rid of those spots, you’re so unattractive what boy will marry you what are you thinking?

i am thinking, i do not want to be married. i am thinking, i was not beautiful even before my face was marred: what will you do about it? i am thinking, i am so much more than my face. underneath my skin, my witch nose and my scarred forehead and ugly cheeks, there is a miracle.

you are so imperfect, terrible child—

you made this terrible child. i didn’t ask for you to forget the parts of me that are made of wonder. you made me. the mark of a true creator is knowing the flaws of what it has made, knowing it is not perfect, accepting. the nose is a little slanted, the skin is uneven the teeth are not white, it is okay.

my expression is not beautiful but my hands are. my face is not beautiful but my words are.

you have to hold a baby someday. you have a future.

my hands will hold freedom, not babies. i have a future and it is mine.

my hands will make miracles someday. mark my words.

—mark my words, i am a miracle.

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Ancient portraits on the walls,
furniture ‘neath shrouds of white,
echoes ring down darkened halls,
heavy drapes repel the light.

Pots and pans in rhyming lines;
we used to hit to make them gong,
a mantle clock that never chimes,
a radio that has no song. 

Up creaking stairs to where we slept,
a plank is loose upon the floor,
where we hid the secrets that we kept,
while shadows listened at our door. 

I kneel and lift the board away,
and your secret treasure lies within;
an old space-gun with fiery ray,
now hungry rust, eats at its tin. 

This old gun you loved so much;
your little heart, it filled with joy,
your treasure, no one else could touch,
I won’t touch it now, I will let it lie. 

I replace the plank and bang it home,
and stamp on it to make it tight,
some secrets are best left alone,
and I walk away, into the night.

Ambrose Harte
Scattered Thoughts  

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It was the moment you said my name. The lilt in your voice as if you were about to laugh. It was the way my lips tasted against yours. It was the feeling of your hands on my thighs, drawing lazy circles. It was the want behind your eyes, the desire coloring your movements. It was the shattering of a perfect reality when I realized you could never love me. It was the cracking, breaking, mutilation of my heart. It was the cognitive realization that I did it to myself. It was the color that bled from my mouth when I told you out. It was the color you screamed, poring in repentance. But it was not the color of acceptance, when I absolved you, knowing it was not me you chose.

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Just thoughts of a crazy woman.

I’m so sad. It feels awful to be this sad. Not only do I feel sad I feel like I have lost control. I am unsure what is real and what is fake. I worry more and I feel like we are not what we seem. My mind is too big for this enclosed world. I am trying to stay ignorant to the real meaning of life but I cannot. I dream about it, I feel it and I am stuck trying to get out of it. We all know it is impossible to leave. We are here until we have finished the course.

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full steam ahead

we got to

we are in a hurry

after decades of slow pace

negligence , laziness

full steam ahead

to save the planet

we call our home

we have to

tomorrow we live already

with the pistol on our chest

too crowded

too dirty

too noisy

dwindling tropical forest

because we all want comfort


we must find solutions


not the day after tomorrow

and we shall have to be fair:

all of us must participate

then maybe

coming generations

will remember us

as the ones who were ready

to go full steam ahead

saving us all


wachtuiltje 2019🗿

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I take for granted

The sunlit moments

That I have

with you-

Though they are

far away,

And very few.

I wish I could

Slow them down,

Make them gracefully


To an Angel’s

fearless tune.

But they burn by,

Fast as flame,

With a heat

just as true.

Your eyes were the sky,


As only a bird can,

I flew.

J. K. L

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Love is

Love is fire in all it’s forms.

The brightest flames,

encased in the darkest shadows,

bringing pleasure or pain,

with each flick of it’s tongue.

The enticing warmth created,

by a lover’s embrace,

heat rising to the surface,

as you’re surrounded in the flames,

of eachothers arms.

The raging inferno of raised voices,

angry words bursting forth,

like hot ash from a volcano,

fires of hell raining down with each curse,

with each violent outburst,

from your lover’s mouth.

The innocent glow of an ember,

placed beneath the sands of time,

slumbering within their nurturing embrace,

until it’s twin flame is found,

and love is rekindled by it’s kiss.

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