[c] Harboured Creation

Confession: I can feel my baby kick and I can’t tell anyone.

Harboured Creation

so tiny yet weighing heavily
you occupy so silently
yet your presence
echoes on each thought

17 weeks since creation
yet your kicks
put me in cardiac arrest.

with each passing week,
you round me out,
so I’ll harbour you the best I can,
prove that I’m not weak
– and deliver.

– Lita

(Confessions is an ongoing series centered around the basic human experience. The everyday things we think about and feel but don’t share due to society or fear of being ostracized from our inner circles.

Most confessions are taken off a thread on Reddit – If you happen to stumble upon your own confession and wish for me to take it down, please let me know.)



To put things in perspective, I was born after the 1st mp3 player was created. So relatively speaking, even though I’m no spring chicken, there’s still a whole world that I’m basically a stumbling duckling to.

So sometimes I stumble upon photographs, paintings or music that strike a cord within me. Usually much older than I am which turns the appreciation into a research mission to understand the context in which it was produced.

There are a plethora of  creators in so many different mediums and sometimes I feel like even though I get exposed to their work. It’s always a fleeting moment in time and suddenly they’re gone in the wind never to be seen again ( unless I see them in my search results.)

I won’t really go deep into what this ‘series’ of posts will be centred around – you probably already get the gist of it.

I’m just going to jump straight into what I have discovered recently (who/what).


Before I bombard you with the history of this photograph, I’ll divulge into what I felt and thought when I initially saw it.

When you look into Yoko Ono’s eyes, there’s this emotion that I spent a couple of minutes to verbalize – to put in words but I can’t quite do it.

It’s almost as if she has dissociated herself from the this world. Her mind seems to be elsewhere. Yet at the same time there is this yearning, as if there is something beyond what we could comprehend that she desires. However amidst all these emotions, a peace is present – the same kind that you get while you’re floating in a pool.

A pleasant nothingness.

John Lennon has visually completely encompassed himself into her being – her essence. I like how his hand is threaded into her hair – her free flowing hair. To be a poetic sap for a second ( not that I’m not usually one.) I drew a parallel between this action and how the hair of women is highly romanticized and given power in the work of some poets and writers alike.

For the sake of having an example( so both you and I can be clear on this point.) I’ll drop Philip Larkin’s “Waiting For Breakfast, While She Brushed Her Hair”

Anyways back to the photograph. I was shocked Lennon. To be pressed up against Ono, there isn’t even an opportunity to have a guise of space. I love the way that gently cradles her head – perhaps he has deep respect for her mind and all that she contains.

My mind always floats back to the way he has moulded himself into her. I realized it was direct consequence of how in mainstream medium it’s always the other way around. That’s why this photograph seems so strange so out of place – why it impacted me so much. As well as the feeling of committing an intrusion of a private moment that it invokes.

The photograph was taken on 8th of December 1980 by Annie Leibovitz.

I’m going to go ahead insert an explanation of the context taken from The Study:

On December 8, 1980, Leibovitz was commissioned by Rolling Stone to photograph John Lennon and Yoko Ono, as part of the promotional efforts surrounding their joint album Double Fantasy. While Leibovitz had hoped that both Lennon and Ono would pose nude, Ono was uncomfortable with shedding her clothes. But Ono’s reluctance led to a legendary improvisation. Of the experience, Leibovitz has said: “I was kinda disappointed, and I said, ‘Just leave everything on.’ We took one Polaroid, and the three of us knew it was profound right away.” Later that evening, Lennon was shot and killed outside of his New York City apartment building. The magazine ran the haunting image (sans headlines) as its cover the following month.

That pretty sums up most of it. If you want to see more Annie Leibovitz work ( you could search her up.) or alternatively you could click here.

Thank you for sticking through it. Hope you experience something good today.



took more than our mouth’s fill,
couldn’t shut
nor swallow

felt it oozing out
the corners of our lips
running past the veins

in our necks

over our pulsing beats.

tried to wipe at it.
– trembling hands and all –
maybe catch at it.

it slipped through
the tips of our fingers
then stained our place.

– Lita

couldn’t even stomach it.


that night
you tugged at my shirt
pulled me flush against your skin
i stared into your eyes
you couldn’t hold my gaze
you seemed drunk and unstable
you stuttered out a” kiss me”
then pushed your lips up against mine.
took my first kiss

i turned my head away
in the moment,
consent never crossed my mind
but that’s what i never gave and you
so took from me,
with your drunken gaze
soaking into every pore of my skin
uninterrupted by my soft yet certain pleas
to be anywhere but in that moment with you.

yet you said
“I love you”
with the innocence
of a school child that just had wet themselves
and i crumbled at the hopelessness and
confusion that clouded your face
as i began to explain that
i felt anything but
the same.

that night
i lost my first kiss to you
traced a finger over my lips
you spoke out “you’re mine.”
– and there was no beauty in that claim.

– 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

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,

This is you, perhaps in another time.

This is you, perhaps in another time.

“You must understand.” he started, staring at the figure standing a few feet in front of him – dangerously on the edge of the curb.

Her fingers glided through the air to shield 
the glare from the sun. With the beating heat, her warm breath carried into his space.

“I don’t.” She craned her neck to the side, glancing at the cars that blurred
past them.

He took a step back, in the guise to lure her 
back to safety.

She didn’t bite.

“I thought that I meant something to you. 
That we were something.
Now you stand there like a broken record,
saying that I must ‘understand’ that ‘We are nothing’.
Now you must understand something… 
I don’t.”

He sighed.

Suddenly there, where he stood, flew an old 
African fly. It lazily buzzed its
way past him; peaceful and unaware.

“Far from home” he thought.

She was far from home and thought she 
could take up residence in his heart. Yet he 
feared what she may do. Whether she be any good – none of his previous  tenants were.

She drew a final breath and watched her reflection twinkle in his eyes as let  herself fall backwards.

A car, that she long forgot the name for, 
came barrelling towards her.
It cried out that she should redeem herself,
yet she welcomed the impending doom.
It’s wail became louder with each of their heartbeats combined.

It filled her.
It overtook him.

“I understand” the soft utterance  encompassed her, as he embraced her.

Lighter light from Lita
Keep your soul intact
See you soon.