This is all about you. About your love, about your touch and you being touched. About how you feel blessed. Blessed to be loved, but also to love. And how that love takes different faces. This is a book about love, told for you, told by you. This book is all about you, but it is also all about me. Maybe that’s what poets mean when they say we were meant to be.
Ramona Meisel is an artist, writer and mythology nerd living in Germany. She’s a strange human hybrid of mended bones and a soul ripped apart at the edges. Her tongue is sharp enough to cut and her mind keen enough to bleed. When she’s not haunting the net she’s perfectly content to lose time in prose and poetry.
I found out about R. Meisel's apparent disappearance from the internet this year (although apparently it's old news) and was distraught. I loved her poems! I wanted to get the rest of her books! I finally had disposable income and my adhd was letting me read again! The time had come! Naturally, I took to the web and started sleuthing. And found out that she had pulled "her" work from the internet... *drumroll please* due to plagiarism accusations. Pretty substantiated ones. There isn't a lot of information to cross reference since her blogs, payhip store, amazon page, and everything else have been deleted, but I don't feel confident in these published collections of hers being... ethically sourced, if you will. I'm glad I only downloaded her free books and was too broke to give her any money for them, but I also don't want any positive reviews i wrote initially out there currying favor with whoever sees them on her behalf. I would love to find the actual authors and support their work instead! If you know of any, please reach out, here or elsewhere, and point me in their direction. I've tried searching a few lines from the poems in the collections that I have access to, but haven't come up with a lot. That's all. I'll be copy and pasting this review into the text of all the reviews/ratings I've left on goodreads. If you were an author whose work was stolen, I'm deeply sorry. That shit's fucked, and your vulnerability and the stories you were trying to tell deserved better.