Where on Earth
can you be?
If you’re not here on Earth
with me?
© Kait King, 2016
Where on Earth
can you be?
If you’re not here on Earth
with me?
© Kait King, 2016
© Kait King, 2015
Is there really a light
at the end of some tunnel?
Have I lost the map
Did I throw it away
dirty and crumpled?
Have I lost my way
taken a wrong turn
can’t see the light
from the candles burned?
Is it that I’m blind
even though I enjoy vision
For looking I can’t see
and so much
remains hidden
© Kait King, 2015
Say what?
Edgy, I get
but perhaps it’s time
to give a name to this
retro-mismatched
misunderstood era
of a better time
clung to with the echo’s
of laughing kids on bicycles
a dog barks and sprinklers spit
on the thirsty, but well-kept lawn –
you know the drill
Now we watch TV programs of that
magical but oh so dangerous era –
as never before or after the 70’s
has there been a true A-typical
serial killer – at least that we know of
Corruption and destruction
non-existent moon-landings
And milk that lasted outside for weeks
We thought we were moving forward
But there were glass-ceilings and
“no choice” let alone the freedom of speech
The Vietnam war left more bodies
falling over time, or walking like the dead –
than the count of the actual battle
Hate was not something of the past
activists and advocates battled for what’s right
and still there are the odd crosses found
burning in the night
© Kait King, 2015
Your soul is you, your possessions aren’t…
Kait King 2015
Don’t know why I’m here
but finally I see
there’s a few hard lessons
to be learned by me
And it doesn’t matter what I
think I’ve learned
I give so much
and still get burned
So how do we turn ourselves
into someone new
It can’t be the easiest thing
to do so
why do we try so hard
to be
society’s perfect human being?
© Kait King, 2015
She didn’t want to know, y’know
She didn’t want to see
Her man had been behind her back
creepy creep creeping
Another in denial, sat
She really couldn’t believe
He really couldn’t have done that
creepy creep creeping
Your heart is not safe
it says
your children are in danger
the man you thought was ‘dad’ material
turns out to be that stranger…
creepy creep creeping
© Kait King, 2016
Temporarily insane
playing your little game
partly furnished
inside my head
only not working
if I should be dead
Temporarily out of order
please excuse the mess
you’ve caught me on an off day
How can I be my best?
© Kait King, 2015
It’s like
an unsticky web
how things
fall into my
head
Nothing ever
really gets
filtered out
Thoughts are
thrown at me
in a shout
Yeah, it is
pretty clear
something’s going
on here
Each inky
black thought
casting
immeasurable doubt
It even surprises
me
with the words
that I spout
Who wrote
those things?
Evil awful
creepings
Friends ask
Where on Earth
did you find
this out
Why would
you write such
horrid things
It gives pause
for thought
and doubt
© Kait King, 2016
I come home
the cat’s at my feet
kids are crying
but there’s nothing made to eat
It’s a hard day at work
with paper knee deep
and the heater’s broken
so I can’t get to sleep
Yet another day comes
we follow like sheep
I can’t find the faith
to make that big leap
I know I shouldn’t take it in
so very, very deep
But it seems to be sort of extra hard
when you aren’t someone who cheats
© Kait King, 2015
So I’m sent back and forth
and around again
to specialists and surgeons
who say it’s in my brain
the wiring’s fucked
Is what they say
because a butcher unfortunately
hacked away
at your hope
your dreams
your aspirations
your purpose
you
Forgiveness and acceptance
words to deal with
spilling your guts makes you better
I think that’s just a myth
to stop me
hold me
trap me in belief
I just want it to end
© Kait King, 2015
Just because he’s fat
you can’t leave him out
like that
And even if it’s so
inside he’s like you,
y’know
And even when we’re angry
and think we are not wrong
it’s best to love and forgive
and learn to get along
Just because she’s different
and cannot see by choice
take a moment to listen
to her gifted singing voice
Because everyone’s born perfect
from different points of view
and the world would really be
quite boring
if they were all like me
and you
© Kait King, 2016
There’s a blinking
candle
The dripping wax
is blood red
Like my life
seeping from my
soul
And there’s a nuisance
in my head
Who do I
believe?
Who do I
trust?
When it all seems
to be about
money –
that Filthy Lucre Lust
by Kait King
28/11/2020
See-through summer
lemon breeze
opening flowers
warming seas
You beckon to me
Sun-bright memories
in hazy days
berry-brown bodies
of the inner child plays
You beckon to me
Sunlight filters
through fruit laden branches
wishes and dreams
hopes and second chances
You beckon to me
© Kait King, 2015
Wild animal
– resonate in me
Violent Love
Tender Brutality
Snake, lion,
tiger or sheep
– Passionate,
almost Violent Love,
to: shy,
submissive,
meek
Only 50 shades of grey?That is what I
want to say
– That Hollywood crap
you can keep…
© Kait King, 2017
The Chinese have called this generation of Taiwanese millennials “The Strawberry Generation”. To me, this seems appropriate to most of the world at this time. The Strawberry Generation is so called because they bruise easily, have no resilience and give up in a heart beat.
Because everything is so readily available on-line, whether it be from clothes to sex – you can own it, see it, have it – now, pretty much. I notice that our young people are not used to having patience or having to work for anything because everything is just ‘there’. So have we created a generation of spoiled brats? Or impatient and uncontrollably angry and frustrated youths? Are these people going to be the adults that have to look after our elderly generation? I don’t mean to cluster everybody into the same box, as this is not fair or true, but I do believe that many of our young people have these attitudes and belief structures about life.
Along with instant gratification there is also this “throw away mentality”, so we have the availability and the discarding instantaneously, of just about everything. This is now not just the discarding of unwanted objects like clothes or a cell phone, but the discarding of humanity. We throw away so much – even letters that belong in words. But that’s ok – I get it, it’s simpler, quicker, textier….it just feels like the next generation is forgetting how to spell – or never learned, or how to use grammar – capital letters, even. It just seems a little sad…and throw away, and wasteful…and sometimes fucking annoying to try and decipher when I shouldn’t be bothering anyway, but I do try.
I don’t think I would care so much if I wasn’t so into words, language, creating stories or getting a point across. I don’t want to live without words like devotion, loyalty, dignity, grace, honour. Not only that, but I want those words to be relevant in day to day relationships – at home, at work, at play. To operate in the world with dignity, with grace – these things seem not to have been shown to many young women. I want those words returned to us as women, I want them to be a part of how women are described. Not skanks, sluts, bitches, snobs, beeatch and every other name that is used to describe us these days.
And who wants to be loyal to, devoted to or honour a slag anyway?