If You Enjoy My Words…

This is a DONATION

Someone suggested that I could get paid to write and that I should set up a donations page. So here goes! It feels a little awkward but this is what I would like to do full-time, write. I can't pay my bills unless I earn my way so this will be my leap of faith. Thank you for letting me believe I have wings!

NZ$10.00

My Superpowers: I’m the Invisible Guest

There’s an empty

bottle on the table

A lonely shoe

left on the floor

A dress flung on

the back of a chair

A damp towel hangs

on the door

There’s a shadow

in my bed and

I guess that must be me

I am the Invisible Guest

in my house

as far as I can see

I float over to my bed

to see the shadow

tucked in deep

You would never

think I was dead

I look like I’m asleep

No one knows

I’ve gone yet

No one knows

I’ve left

I’m sad to leave

my family

crying and bereft

But there’s a light

shining for me

I’m ready to walk

in to

if there’s everything

I’ve forgotten,

I’ll remember

I loved you.

Kait King ♥️

14th September 2019

Rage

Her internal organs

were completely shoved

out of place

You couldn’t tell

where her eyes were

on her once

normal face

Her mouth,

no teeth…

although alive,

she had only 2

Her fingernails

held DNA

Her bruises spoke

in black

and blue

There was no weapon,

no club

no knife

Just pure

Red Rage

Rage enough

to steal

a life

Her family

yes, she has one,

Will have to hear

the tragic

news

of how,

in her relationship,

she was violently

abused

The children

saw

their father

as she was

twisted

punched and

burnt

It’s said she

stayed for

the children

Now, a lesson

sadly learned

And putting to

“Rest” their

Mother’s bones

So they look ahead

“Stay positive”

“You’re not alone”

“At least you have

a roof over

your head”

and face life

in a

foster home

While wishing

they were

dead

Kait King 2020

It’s Just Life

it's just life

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

Mother’s Day every day

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

What I want to believe Real Women want

what i want to believe real woman want

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

Is There Something You Want to Say?

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Do you mean to tell me,

forgetful soul

That you love me

even more

Do you mean to tell me

I got it wrong

that I’m not the girl

in that love song

Did I hear you right

Is that what you say?

That you could never love me

any other way?

Do you mean to tell me

I don’t shine so bright

I’m not the one,

You didn’t get it right

Do you mean to tell me

that we should just be friends

That it will only get broken

if we fix it in the end

Did I hear you right?

Is that what you say?

That you couldn’t really

love me

Any other way?

Kait King 2019

The doyley of pain

Doyley of pain

So I’m asked to describe how I concentrate to write or focus on anything when pain is such a major contributor in my life and a permanent. I thought about it for a second. The doctor had used the whiteboard and drawn “my brain” with pain in the background and words like focus, concentration, motivation scribbled at the front with arrows looking like they were trying to get into my brain. Understandably these things all present a challenge but the way I see it, is that the pain is like an intricate piece of lace that is draped across my brain. In between the detailed lacy gaps things like concentration, motivation and focus do filter through. And depending on how tight the stitching is sometimes it is easier for those things to flow through and other times not so much. This might make sense to some of you – I’m not sure.

Also I’m not big on the word hope. I don’t want hope – I want it sorted now or I will just live with it until some such miracle cure arrives – but I’m not spending my life or any time at all with the hope that I will be fine again. It is what it is. They say hope is a word used for people who don’t want to accept. That is not who I want to be – I know a part of me longs for my body to be pain free but that is just not how it is.

I believe that determination comes from my soul and I will carve my way through whatever it is the universe chooses to share with me and be grateful at the same time – because even though I can’t walk very far, I can write – just a different double u (w)…. 🙂

© Kait King, 2015

I wish I could tell her

I wish I could tell her

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

Wire & Skin

Wire & Skin

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

Slowly Summer

Spring into Summer

With drifting tendrils

of Spring

Summer curls her way into

places where shadows hang around

with a Wintery gruffness

A warmth travels –

infrequently

flying through

the trees and grasses

with just a tease

of what’s to come

Sky of blue and spring rains fall

the fluttering tweets

and grassy delights of the

new nesting families hurrying along

Spring’s lazy gait

© Kait King, 2016

I need one of those dogs

i need one of those dogs

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

His broken heart is hid

his broken heart is hid

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