Published in Right here, write now
Published in Right here, write now
Published in Right here, write now
Image credit by Santorio bag
Image credit by Santorio bag
Image credit by Santorio bag
Nadine Wessels
Nadine Wessels
Nadine Wessels
Resigner Luth loves her country, her family, and sometimes her boyfriend too. Passion, ambition, belief and a pocketful of lessons. Self-confessed bibliophile who loves reading as much as creating art - painting, dancing, photography. I might not be "poetry in motion" - more like lightning in a soap bubble. Impossible to catch, I follow the air and the water. p.s. If anyone is wondering where the new pictures are...technical difficulties. I need a cable! I also need some income before they're all lost. Life's a @#$% and then you realize: "That is where I went wrong". Do not blame fate. Fate brought you here. Just move forward.
Resigner Luth loves her country, her family, and sometimes her boyfriend too. Passion, ambition, belief and a pocketful of lessons. Self-confessed bibliophile who loves reading as much as creating art - painting, dancing, photography. I might not be "poetry in motion" - more like lightning in a soap bubble. Impossible to catch, I follow the air and the water. p.s. If anyone is wondering where the new pictures are...technical difficulties. I need a cable! I also need some income before they're all lost. Life's a @#$% and then you realize: "That is where I went wrong". Do not blame fate. Fate brought you here. Just move forward.
Resigner Luth loves her country, her family, and sometimes her boyfriend too. Passion, ambition, belief and a pocketful of lessons. Self-confessed bibliophile who loves reading as much as creating art - painting, dancing, photography. I might not be "poetry in motion" - more like lightning in a soap bubble. Impossible to catch, I follow the air and the water. p.s. If anyone is wondering where the new pictures are...technical difficulties. I need a cable! I also need some income before they're all lost. Life's a @#$% and then you realize: "That is where I went wrong". Do not blame fate. Fate brought you here. Just move forward.
March 6, 2023
March 6, 2023
March 6, 2023
Fame or Shame
Fame or Shame
Fame or Shame
A glimpse into art
A glimpse into art
A glimpse into art
IF A STORY IS IN YOU, IT HAS TO COME OUT. ~unknown
Sometimes the words rush out in a torrent. Some days you need a bridge to get to the shore.
Patience is the most underrated skill one must acquire. That and strangling the inner critic. Who needs more of that gal. How do I know it is a female? In my experience few men are that judgemental. Don't get me wrong - they are out there. Luckily for me, men have "a tell".
Writing as an attractive woman does have its pitfalls. One needs a team of angels. Women who are not afraid. Women who step into the flames. Those willing to wait for my wings to grow. Knowing the story is INSIDE of me. Several stories. A multitude of poems. A lifetime of skinned knees, which taught me valuable lessons.
You might be wondering: So, what is the story?
The one of ambition, privilege, and sweet memories? Sorry to disappoint but although you will find those elements in these "articles", like most writers I really get into it when the chips are down. Please note - this is not a universal rule. Sometimes we do silly, sassy stuff as well. One guarantee against the black wolf stalking us, confuse it with happiness. Love it to death. The concept, not anyone else. Including yourself. We will all be simply fine…eventually.
On that note, if all the beautiful words have been said and done? What have I been writing since I could hold a stylus? Since my mother taught me to read my own fairy tales. Whose voice narrates every story. Whose mind soaks it all up like I'm a sponge. (I know what you're all thinking, I get one dm of the cheesy cartoon - you will pay.) Not an idle threat - a promise. ; /
A gift, a curse, a melody ~ a bit out of tune, but practise makes perfect! Or as close to it as damn is to swearing. Blame my metal heart.
If not you, then who? If not now, then when.
These questions keep me up at night. When Morpheus beckons and I turn my face away. Such beauty, such sorrow. Nope. I'd rather fill my day with something that might just matter to one single person in the future. I'm hoping for more, but one at a time is an achievement. Finally, I'll be able to tell myself: "This is my purpose, it has always been my destiny."
It means the skeleton is out of the cupboard. Dressed in leather and a tailcoat, bowtie, and silk purse. Does anyone have a problem with that? I thought not.
WE EXIST TO UPLIFT. Not only those around us. We have a duty to ourselves. Those "dreams that came as whispers from the heart." To every person who has ever believed in us. To our lives!
When those two roads diverged - which one did you take. Will you make the same decision today? Think about it. That's your assignment today. I think it might be mine too. Let us get started. The finish line is closer than you will ever know. Praise the Heavens for that.
Have a beautiful day, month, decade, and eternity. Remember to take a step back, relax, breathe. Then just move forward. (I do not condone violence but if that fool is still messing with you - take them down. No one messes with my friends.) Including me.
Resigner on the coffee hunt - whoops, I forgot I'm on the water wagon ;-0
P.s. I would love to send you a virtual lick right now, but bear hug will have to do.
Stay safe. Stay sane. And keep on reading, Cinders and the Subhumans will be back soon.
"Go and write"
That was my mother, when I had so much nervous energy, I was driving my family insane. I did. This was the disastrous result:
written on the 16th of December, around 2pm.
Spilling hatred onto the page…Here is my confession.
I am tired. You are tired. Everyone is tired!
This hunger is cultivating depression. Every person I know is wound up. Fed up. Angry.
When you are standing alone, your angels' blood and ichor filling the wasteland. You die inside. You're bleeding but you are still in the fight. SURVIVING.
"This is not the way forward" I heard my own scream. Echoing back. "I am not this!" I yelled in defiance.
In my minds' eye I saw the battlefield. There I stood, soaked in blood, and sweat. With me stood a seven-fold army. No. I was not a victim. My feet were stuck in the mud with a lonely heart. I saw myself - a stranger. So, I did what I do best. Became stronger, I raised my expectations. I levelled up. Decided that if the fights were fixed, I would finish it.
Be warned. I've lived one decade blindfolded, the five years before that deaf. This is me saying No. This is me welcoming my destiny. I will flip it on you. You will never even know when I do. I am more than you ever expected. And I shall Reign.
Not because I enjoy it, not because I need a book on bi-polar issues. I have always been this ink that burns into your brain. My wit will cut. My tongue will shred. This is suffering. It's also known as resilience.
All due to one simple reason. You hurt me first. I'm not one for holding a grudge - but you pressed the wrong button. Sliced up the most innocent, gentle, wise, and kindest person I have ever met.
+++++++
I look back at these words and wonder whether I sold my soul that day? Hoping for redemption. I am gentle. I am loyal. I am in love with life. We all deserve a second, third, fourth chance.
Still, it does not change the fact that I now DEMAND more. I am "Rare". I am raw. I am ready.
All the best
Resigner
*Now back by popular demand*
LOL
IF A STORY IS IN YOU, IT HAS TO COME OUT. ~unknown
Sometimes the words rush out in a torrent. Some days you need a bridge to get to the shore.
Patience is the most underrated skill one must acquire. That and strangling the inner critic. Who needs more of that gal. How do I know it is a female? In my experience few men are that judgemental. Don't get me wrong - they are out there. Luckily for me, men have "a tell".
Writing as an attractive woman does have its pitfalls. One needs a team of angels. Women who are not afraid. Women who step into the flames. Those willing to wait for my wings to grow. Knowing the story is INSIDE of me. Several stories. A multitude of poems. A lifetime of skinned knees, which taught me valuable lessons.
You might be wondering: So, what is the story?
The one of ambition, privilege, and sweet memories? Sorry to disappoint but although you will find those elements in these "articles", like most writers I really get into it when the chips are down. Please note - this is not a universal rule. Sometimes we do silly, sassy stuff as well. One guarantee against the black wolf stalking us, confuse it with happiness. Love it to death. The concept, not anyone else. Including yourself. We will all be simply fine…eventually.
On that note, if all the beautiful words have been said and done? What have I been writing since I could hold a stylus? Since my mother taught me to read my own fairy tales. Whose voice narrates every story. Whose mind soaks it all up like I'm a sponge. (I know what you're all thinking, I get one dm of the cheesy cartoon - you will pay.) Not an idle threat - a promise. ; /
A gift, a curse, a melody ~ a bit out of tune, but practise makes perfect! Or as close to it as damn is to swearing. Blame my metal heart.
If not you, then who? If not now, then when.
These questions keep me up at night. When Morpheus beckons and I turn my face away. Such beauty, such sorrow. Nope. I'd rather fill my day with something that might just matter to one single person in the future. I'm hoping for more, but one at a time is an achievement. Finally, I'll be able to tell myself: "This is my purpose, it has always been my destiny."
It means the skeleton is out of the cupboard. Dressed in leather and a tailcoat, bowtie, and silk purse. Does anyone have a problem with that? I thought not.
WE EXIST TO UPLIFT. Not only those around us. We have a duty to ourselves. Those "dreams that came as whispers from the heart." To every person who has ever believed in us. To our lives!
When those two roads diverged - which one did you take. Will you make the same decision today? Think about it. That's your assignment today. I think it might be mine too. Let us get started. The finish line is closer than you will ever know. Praise the Heavens for that.
Have a beautiful day, month, decade, and eternity. Remember to take a step back, relax, breathe. Then just move forward. (I do not condone violence but if that fool is still messing with you - take them down. No one messes with my friends.) Including me.
Resigner on the coffee hunt - whoops, I forgot I'm on the water wagon ;-0
P.s. I would love to send you a virtual lick right now, but bear hug will have to do.
Stay safe. Stay sane. And keep on reading, Cinders and the Subhumans will be back soon.
"Go and write"
That was my mother, when I had so much nervous energy, I was driving my family insane. I did. This was the disastrous result:
written on the 16th of December, around 2pm.
Spilling hatred onto the page…Here is my confession.
I am tired. You are tired. Everyone is tired!
This hunger is cultivating depression. Every person I know is wound up. Fed up. Angry.
When you are standing alone, your angels' blood and ichor filling the wasteland. You die inside. You're bleeding but you are still in the fight. SURVIVING.
"This is not the way forward" I heard my own scream. Echoing back. "I am not this!" I yelled in defiance.
In my minds' eye I saw the battlefield. There I stood, soaked in blood, and sweat. With me stood a seven-fold army. No. I was not a victim. My feet were stuck in the mud with a lonely heart. I saw myself - a stranger. So, I did what I do best. Became stronger, I raised my expectations. I levelled up. Decided that if the fights were fixed, I would finish it.
Be warned. I've lived one decade blindfolded, the five years before that deaf. This is me saying No. This is me welcoming my destiny. I will flip it on you. You will never even know when I do. I am more than you ever expected. And I shall Reign.
Not because I enjoy it, not because I need a book on bi-polar issues. I have always been this ink that burns into your brain. My wit will cut. My tongue will shred. This is suffering. It's also known as resilience.
All due to one simple reason. You hurt me first. I'm not one for holding a grudge - but you pressed the wrong button. Sliced up the most innocent, gentle, wise, and kindest person I have ever met.
+++++++
I look back at these words and wonder whether I sold my soul that day? Hoping for redemption. I am gentle. I am loyal. I am in love with life. We all deserve a second, third, fourth chance.
Still, it does not change the fact that I now DEMAND more. I am "Rare". I am raw. I am ready.
All the best
Resigner
*Now back by popular demand*
LOL
IF A STORY IS IN YOU, IT HAS TO COME OUT. ~unknown
Sometimes the words rush out in a torrent. Some days you need a bridge to get to the shore.
Patience is the most underrated skill one must acquire. That and strangling the inner critic. Who needs more of that gal. How do I know it is a female? In my experience few men are that judgemental. Don't get me wrong - they are out there. Luckily for me, men have "a tell".
Writing as an attractive woman does have its pitfalls. One needs a team of angels. Women who are not afraid. Women who step into the flames. Those willing to wait for my wings to grow. Knowing the story is INSIDE of me. Several stories. A multitude of poems. A lifetime of skinned knees, which taught me valuable lessons.
You might be wondering: So, what is the story?
The one of ambition, privilege, and sweet memories? Sorry to disappoint but although you will find those elements in these "articles", like most writers I really get into it when the chips are down. Please note - this is not a universal rule. Sometimes we do silly, sassy stuff as well. One guarantee against the black wolf stalking us, confuse it with happiness. Love it to death. The concept, not anyone else. Including yourself. We will all be simply fine…eventually.
On that note, if all the beautiful words have been said and done? What have I been writing since I could hold a stylus? Since my mother taught me to read my own fairy tales. Whose voice narrates every story. Whose mind soaks it all up like I'm a sponge. (I know what you're all thinking, I get one dm of the cheesy cartoon - you will pay.) Not an idle threat - a promise. ; /
A gift, a curse, a melody ~ a bit out of tune, but practise makes perfect! Or as close to it as damn is to swearing. Blame my metal heart.
If not you, then who? If not now, then when.
These questions keep me up at night. When Morpheus beckons and I turn my face away. Such beauty, such sorrow. Nope. I'd rather fill my day with something that might just matter to one single person in the future. I'm hoping for more, but one at a time is an achievement. Finally, I'll be able to tell myself: "This is my purpose, it has always been my destiny."
It means the skeleton is out of the cupboard. Dressed in leather and a tailcoat, bowtie, and silk purse. Does anyone have a problem with that? I thought not.
WE EXIST TO UPLIFT. Not only those around us. We have a duty to ourselves. Those "dreams that came as whispers from the heart." To every person who has ever believed in us. To our lives!
When those two roads diverged - which one did you take. Will you make the same decision today? Think about it. That's your assignment today. I think it might be mine too. Let us get started. The finish line is closer than you will ever know. Praise the Heavens for that.
Have a beautiful day, month, decade, and eternity. Remember to take a step back, relax, breathe. Then just move forward. (I do not condone violence but if that fool is still messing with you - take them down. No one messes with my friends.) Including me.
Resigner on the coffee hunt - whoops, I forgot I'm on the water wagon ;-0
P.s. I would love to send you a virtual lick right now, but bear hug will have to do.
Stay safe. Stay sane. And keep on reading, Cinders and the Subhumans will be back soon.
"Go and write"
That was my mother, when I had so much nervous energy, I was driving my family insane. I did. This was the disastrous result:
written on the 16th of December, around 2pm.
Spilling hatred onto the page…Here is my confession.
I am tired. You are tired. Everyone is tired!
This hunger is cultivating depression. Every person I know is wound up. Fed up. Angry.
When you are standing alone, your angels' blood and ichor filling the wasteland. You die inside. You're bleeding but you are still in the fight. SURVIVING.
"This is not the way forward" I heard my own scream. Echoing back. "I am not this!" I yelled in defiance.
In my minds' eye I saw the battlefield. There I stood, soaked in blood, and sweat. With me stood a seven-fold army. No. I was not a victim. My feet were stuck in the mud with a lonely heart. I saw myself - a stranger. So, I did what I do best. Became stronger, I raised my expectations. I levelled up. Decided that if the fights were fixed, I would finish it.
Be warned. I've lived one decade blindfolded, the five years before that deaf. This is me saying No. This is me welcoming my destiny. I will flip it on you. You will never even know when I do. I am more than you ever expected. And I shall Reign.
Not because I enjoy it, not because I need a book on bi-polar issues. I have always been this ink that burns into your brain. My wit will cut. My tongue will shred. This is suffering. It's also known as resilience.
All due to one simple reason. You hurt me first. I'm not one for holding a grudge - but you pressed the wrong button. Sliced up the most innocent, gentle, wise, and kindest person I have ever met.
+++++++
I look back at these words and wonder whether I sold my soul that day? Hoping for redemption. I am gentle. I am loyal. I am in love with life. We all deserve a second, third, fourth chance.
Still, it does not change the fact that I now DEMAND more. I am "Rare". I am raw. I am ready.
All the best
Resigner
*Now back by popular demand*
LOL
