Shadowdancing Sans Light.

Shadowdancing Sans Light.

I take night walks
Like a reprisal from
The pill I find hard to swallow
– day.

In the shadows,
I find forgotten thoughts
Dance with the moonlight’s gaze fixated –
On me.
Like the stalkers they warn me against.

In the dead of the night,
The trees sing,
Telling tales of yesteryear
Burning up oxygen in their lungs.

In the night
I find the peace
That in daytime I can’t seem to lease.

– Lita


Modus Operandi

my mother’s birther
told me to swallow
a teaspoon of sugar
to keep sweet
and like bees are to coke
men would be to me.

I’d be sought after
but all the heaps I ingested
created cavities
– rot me to the core.

– Lita

My world was shattered.

Foreign Land

I was hurtling towards the earth before I even knew that I had lost control. Now I find myself typing up my life story in the far east of Russia, thousands of miles away from the only place I’ve ever called home.

I’ve seen the world. Felt the bitter cold. Been embraced in loving arms and been flung into the unknown, all before I hit 19.

I suppose before I divulge further into this whirlwind of a story I should reintroduce myself.

My name is Lita, once a starry-eyed 17-year-old who pondered about love and the world, now a 19-year-old, forging her way through her the world.

I’m a South African who moved halfway across the globe to one of the coldest country known to man, Russia.

To be flung into the unknown is to reach within yourself and scrape up every bit of your essence and to put it up to a tiny spark then pray it is strong enough to flicker into a fire so bright that it can guide you out.

It’s difficult to explain to what extent my views and opinions of the world have grown and evolved yet remain intrinsically the same.

However I’ll try and perhaps we’ll come to create a different bond with each other, a stronger one.

Part of me would like to say that I am sorry for being tardy to the 2018 wave of writing but I’m not sorry.

After all, great things come in due time. 

– Lita

Precocious Bloom


Precocious Bloom

Flowers grew in her backyard
She called them pretty
With a foreign roll of her

Flowers grew in her backyard
She pulled me to the back
Hands winding

Flowers grew in her backyard
She called me a man now
Said – men take flowers from
Girls like her

Flowers grew in her backyard
With boyish hands and
I picked them.

– Lita

Dying might save your life.

“Whether you can or cannot, you’re right.”

Flavoured Mist.
Flavoured Mist Source – Tumblr

It’s been a 134 days as of today (16 April 2017) since I’ve sat down with the intention of ‘publishing’ here. I won’t lie and say that I didn’t open this screen more times than I wish to admit, stumbling through sentences; hoping to make something that spoke to me.

So back from the dead, these are 4 things that I learnt:

1.People are ticking time bombs and while some are grenades, it’s the nuclear bombs you should fear.

Humour me, open your chats and call log.

Who do you speak to the most just because?

There’s your bomb. If they ceased to be there right in this second, would you disintegrate? Are you still standing? How much damage did they leave behind and were they worth it?

Watch yourself with others, don’t become a minefield.

2. Screw what people say, if you think it’s right then it is.

Whatever decisions you make, what you say or wear even what you eat is right so long as you feel that way. You get 24 measly hours a day and to have something haunt you whatever part of the day is a waste of time. Honey you’re golden and that’s all that matters.

3.Please isn’t a magic word – Hello is.

You need capital, advice, transport or the best pizza joint’s number. Google isn’t the best way to get it. You see that person who stood in line behind you? He knows that pizza joint. That woman you passed yesterday? She looking for people who are looking to start a business that she can help fund. You walk past opportunities everyday and you should shoot yourself in the foot for it.

4. Breathe, and do the shite you like.

Remember those measly 24 hours? Well I like writing my crappy poetry and even crappier pieces with it. It makes me happy, so does hopelessly falling in love with everyone and thing around me. I happen to like my weird music and love dancing to it too. I might not know how to cook like a normal person but when I don’t burn, my food is pretty bomb so I’ll enjoy that too. Crying feels good and so does pooping. Having an unpopular opinion doesn’t make you wrong. Life is a compilation of too many 24 hours and too little things we like – so do the shite you like and breathe.

Doing shite she likes,

Realities – 1

Realities – 1

Beggar on the street
watching the sun sink
eyes closed tightly shut
praying for a better tomorrow.

Realities is a new installment, aimed to bring awareness in 6 lines or less.  For November 2016, which you will never get back again, I challenge you to make a small change. Make a difference. 

Light from Lita
See you soon.



tenderness bruised in
rushed kisses
with chapped lips
drinking ravenously at the neck,
couldn’t get enough of it
– the quickening pulse –

Eyes gleaming in the moonlight
moving fast with fumbling fingers
tracing all the curves and dips
it hastily discovers.

Light from Lita
See you soon.

Displeasing Pleasure

Displeasing Pleasure

Don’t touch me there
with scalding hands
that pull on my hair.

Heavy chested bigot
with not-so-subtle comments
I don’t want to hear.

Not-so-sly wandering eyes
hoping we won’t see how,
one by one
objects we become.

“Little one”
can’t take it no more,
yet you’re banned from hearing more.

This one had me thinking since it was published. I think I finally found a way to form it into a coherent thought.

Light from Lita.