Mum at Kai Iwi Lakes, January 2019
You’ve watched me
Grow up
I’ve watched you
grow old
And I speak for you
Now
When I used to do
As I was told
Your face is
Still the same
And your eyes…
They sometimes
know
But you words
Are lost on me
And you
You don’t want me
To go…
I kiss you
Many times
Touch your face
And hug you
Tight
You ask me
Where my Dad is
You’re shocked
When I say
He’s gone…
into
The light
Kait King 2019
While she’s trying harder
working it out
all her problems, hangups, pity and
self-doubt
And she tries too hard to achieve
because she’s lonely, angry,
she’s had no love to eat
And as far as this woman knows
it’s like a picture, no – a painting
or a movie, too slow
As far as this woman knows
it’s like fighting the fight
but not a fight that you chose
So she’s crying alone
no sleep at night
I wish I could find her
and tell her –
it will all be all right
© Kait King, 2015
I’m not the hero I used to be
but I’ve mastered the art of
Insanity
© Kait King, 2015
Tiny and Tinier 2014
A darkened cove
a sparrow’s trove
of palely speckled eggs
a fluff of feathers
incompetent wings
and skinny wobbly legs
A dangerous night
or maybe it’s two
you spend upon the ground
all alone
but then the sun comes up
and warms your spirit
and you fly yourself off home
© Kait King, 2015
Pulled very
tight
in the dark
of a night
Wire & Skin
Razor or
barb
Put up
your guard
Wire & Skin
A killers’ tool
strings you up
not so cool
Wire & Skin
They find you
tied up there
in a place called
Nowhere
Wire & Skin
Wire cutters
are at hand
you fall free
where you land
Wire & Skin
Sullen faces
at the site
strangled with
wire
so tight
Wire & Skin
Kait King 2019
I’m quite happy being a Woman
I don’t want to be a Man
I don’t want to scratch my nuts
or take out the trash can
I don’t understand the confusion
about the Man and Woman sequel
Of course we are very Different
Different, but still very Equal
I am proud to be the Carer
The Fantastical Giver of Life
the gentle softness of
a safe place to fall
When you return from
a hard days’ fight
My Man, the strong Protector
The Bringer of that Life
who will be Honoured to care for me Truly
and with Pride
would call me his Wife
© Kait King, 2015
warped, crippled twisted and blackened
my monsters will be set free
decrepit, decayed, barren of soul
sit here or there and all will see
Damaged, Dangerous, Dark and Fright
my monsters travel day or night
bad dreams,
bad thoughts,
dark, gnarled,
knuckle-bite-fright
not all is as it seems….
© Kait King, 2015
I guess the question of why would be relative to one’s beliefs, perception and world view. If the answer to the question is different due to this, then there are different results with each answer. Some might believe the why was: because they deserved it or God wanted it that way or human suffering is pay back or whatever other beliefs people have about the reasons why they want out. Do they exist to be beaten, maligned and controlled? Do they exist just to suffer? To be targets for predators of Child Abuse, rape and murder? We know all of the good things… Sometimes they get covered up in the bad. I think more than anything, people who want to die, ask themselves, the Universe and all gods “why am I here? For what purpose must I hurt beyond my control? Beyond what I can bear…”
But I’m still here, still bearing when I thought I needed to escape the unbearable. Was I a fool to hang around waiting to die or should I take the quick option and kill myself? Was that cheating? Not knowing is what keeps me waiting. Does that mean that those who do take their lives have absolute faith? Absolute knowledge? Or are they just in absolute Hell? Are they absolutely past caring? Perhaps there is no right or wrong answer…or maybe no answer at all. Perhaps we just exist to exist. We live we die – rinse and repeat…
pain
a grain of sand
irritating
anger making pain
the constant muse
restricted not abused
pain
as deep as a black hole
endless and whole
but from the oyster
emerges
the pearl
© Kait King, 2015
I am a chocolate addict
call me what you will
Mouth open wide
Chocolate pouring in
that’s how I’d get
my thrill
I am a sugar junkie
call it how you want
I order a starter to have
dessert
at the restaurant
Sweet tooth, sweet freak
call it what you like
but nothing makes me happier
than my sweet sugar
spike!
© Kait King, 2015
My Mum and Dad in Queen St, Auckland 1956
I walk down the aisle
my eyes passing over cards
words springing out
about Mum going
the whole nine yards
And I stop to read a few
The words just seem
insipid
when I think of you,
Mum
A journey into the intrepid
Four babies later
and over 60 years married
Through wars, tonsillitis,
tears and love you tarried
Now here I am
a mother too
And these words I say: “I love you”
Have also come
from my son’s mouth
and heart
But to say them to you
doesn’t even begin to start
to express what a fantastic Mum you’ve been
You’ve done a good job,
I’m a good human being
So I tell you you’re an amazing Mum
and people are proud of the job you’ve done!
© Kait King, 2015
I am lying on my bed
it’s too hot
and the TV’s too loud
Yet the noisiest thing
is you in my
head
I can hear the washing machine
beeping and beeping endlessly
WTF is wrong with those things?!
I know I should
eat something but
I truly can’t be
bothered
it’s just food
it’s just money
it’s just love
it’s just life…
© Kait King, 2016
As a writer I sometimes struggle to write and other times it just falls out of me. Sometimes I wonder where what I write about comes from. I know I make a calculated plan – the skeleton or bones – of an idea but then the flesh just layers upon it, creating the monster. The words used, the feelings created and the imagery perceived is what the end goal is.
A new character with a new idea of the world and what it owes them or what they must pay to live in my book, emerges. I know the title, I know her, I know her story. I would like to share this journey with you too. The beginning of gods’ daughter…..
© Kait King, 2015
Listening quietly in
the dawn of the day
My mind playing games
that my heart won’t play
Watching us still
in the dark of my mind
waiting for someone I can’t seem to find
Holding this close
Not wanting to lose
Making the choice
and then having to choose
As the falling rain
dampens my heart
I can’t seem to see
Was I blind from the start?
© Kait King, 2015
Life suspended in a web-like hammock
the coffee smell not as nostril-curling as in the past
a homeless man stumbles along wet walks
dragging his sorry arse along the splinter lit streets
a reflection a sad life in a hard city,
his city a place where he lost his wife and his job,
a home, his family
where he nearly took his own
when things were darker than ebony
and he had to walk his walk alone
A bunch of aggro school kids
too brash and way too loud
disrespect his foul figure on the skids
he had no room to be proud
He seeks a place that’s dry
it won’t be warm,
he knows a place where he can cry
and his aching tears won’t show
© Kait King, 2015
There’s this buzzy
little feeling –
right in the center of me
And although my body is weighted
something in there
has zero gravity
Is that my Troubled Spirit
or could it be my Lonely Soul?
If I caste this bodily feeling
is it my Spirit that makes me
Whole?
© Kait King, 2016
“I’m so bored
but I’ve got so much
to do!”
“So what have you done then?”
“Nothing…
And you?”
© Kait King, 2017
