I can’t help it

I can't help it

Lonely words

on a hungry page

I see you through

a love-drenched haze

I’ll make it through

the crying days

I can’t help it that I love you

Bleeding heart

in a tortured mind

I never thought

You could be unkind

But I ll make it through

the hurting time

I can’t help it that I love you

© Kait King, 2015

Being the Ogre

being the_Ogre

You promise

you’ll be home tonight

to kiss the kids and

hold me tight

You tell me it won’t be

the same

until it happens

once again

You say I am

the only one

and what’s been done

can’t be undone

I stay quietly alone

all through the day

watching our kids

grow and play

and when the door opens

later at night

they think you’re home,

that they are all right

But bedtime comes

and they can’t wait up

I am the ogre who’s

taken their pup

Little do they know

you don’t give a damn

Fathers’ like you

shouldn’t be called men

© Kait King, 2015

No Problem

no problem

Any time and everywhere

when you’re thinking people stare –

you’ve got a problem

If it doesn’t matter what they say

And you think yours is the only way –

you’ve got a problem

When you think you’re doing fine

Everyone else says you’re out of line –

you’ve got a problem

And if you think it stops right here

I don’t think you’re thinking clear –

you’ve got a problem

When a lover walks on out

saying your’e just a lay-about –

you’ve got a problem

© Kait King, 2015

You know you know…..

you know you know

You already know –

You know you’ve

known for ages

But just didn’t

want to look into

that ugly face

or go to that

ugly place

You knew months ago

when he was angry with you

when all you did

was be excited he was home

and he turned his back

and left you there alone

You already knew

when you could

smell the hint of perfumes

that you know you

don’t wear

Those whispered

phone calls

He doesn’t want you

to hear

You already know –

you know you’ve known

for ages

but just didn’t

want to look

into that ugly lying face

or go to that

ugly empty place

© Kait King, 2015

The Creation

Creation

I lie in the quiet

of the solid dark

A fractured individual

with a many fragmented heart

I don’t regret the past

but I struggle to see ahead

Life seems to race by way too fast

just to wind up dead

I try to stay well afloat

But here, I’m not the strongest swimmer

Life has me tight around the throat

and has moulded a grateful sinner

© Kait King, 2015

Does it Sting? – aka Pointless

skeletal mona lisa

Does it sting?

Can you feel

my hate

my anger

blistering at you?

Inflamed and furious

that not even the

Herculean strength of my own

sanity will tie it down

My bitterness seeps out

of my pores

leaving a trail of

achingly sad tearful

nights and aimless lonely

days

Does it sting?

Can you feel me

loathing you from afar?

My hate for you is so

giant – it has to be visible

surely you can feel this

surely you know I am hating you

betrayed by you, unforgiving

of you – surely….

What do you mean, he’s got another girlfriend?

© Kait King, 2015

Keyhole Kid

keyhole kid

She wasn’t afraid

but she was alone

the house was empty

nobody home

She didn’t get angry

she didn’t have to cry

she didn’t even question

that she’s alone at 5 and why

It’s hard to find a window

that opens kind of wide

even for a little person

to end up safe inside

So she huddles on the step

trying to keep warm

wishing, hoping someone comes

before all curtains are drawn

Now it starts to quietly rain

and it’s getting rather dark

So she starts to walk down the road

towards Alberta Park

We never knew what happened

to that little girl alone

I just know she’d still be here

if someone had been home…

© Kait King, 2015

Is a child molester worse than a child killer?

is a child molester worse

I just want to clarify that without a doubt – no form of abuse or harm, whatsoever to any living thing, is alright by me. I spend most of my waking moments and my work towards protecting our kids and vulnerable populations like animals, the elderly and handicapped as well. That was my whole focus for completing my Criminology degree – to be an advocate and a voice for those who cannot speak for themselves. With my psyche background, curiosity and life experiences I am led to many thoughts. Some I didn’t even know I would contemplate before I started my journey into crime and the criminal mind (as it were :)) I myself, have an analytical mind and like to have answers to things until there are no more questions left to wonder! And so with this in mind, I wonder if a child molester/abuser is worse than a child killer? I think to myself at least the child is dead at the hands of the killer and not turned into the living dead by the pedophiles in the world? My beliefs allow me to believe that the spirit of the murdered child will get a chance to return to the world if that is what existence means, but like I say – the child left alive is trapped in a living hell of self-doubt and self-flagellation/torture and that’s after the abuse has ceased. Sexual molestation is usually a prolonged relationship – an ongoing grooming and manipulation in order to keep the secret and obtain what the predator wants. Sometimes this goes on for years and is often times familial, or someone known to the victim, creating more guilt and a necessity for secrecy due to shame and embarrassment. So which is worse? Either way the victim and their family suffers and never would or should anyone have to make a choice between the two, but I am curious as to others’ understanding of the actual offender. And I also believe that if we discuss things like this more, we will gain a greater understanding of the predator and how we keep our children safe… So back to my question whether the child molester is worse than the child killer? Or are they just as bad as each other because whichever way you cut it, the life of the victim is taken away – physically or life as they should know it – but gone for good so that nothing is ever the same.

No

No

You’ve broken my heart

no,

you’ve ripped it apart

and just left it

over there

shoving it in my face

that you don’t care

no,

that you never did

as a woman

a man

or a kid

no….

you never did

© Kait King, 2015

The Slavering Beast

13ghosts bipolar schizo

He could see

and feel

a slavering beast

He could smell it’s

breath

see it’s sharpened

yellow teeth

It wanted him

to do

bad things

It felt like the

Devil with Hate

Not his usual state

of being

but any Angel

with wings

was going to be too late

It said that nobody

nobody

gave

two shits

And do everyone a

favor

Go ahead

slit your wrists

Kait King 2016

Having the Freedom to

i-dont-want-to

I don’t want to just

be friends any more

If you’re not going to try

I can show you the door

I’m not very good at

laying the blame

I don’t want to play

that dangerous game

I just about burst

when all I want to say

when I look into your blue eyes

is “I love you” every day

I just want us both to

be allowed to be free

for me to be in love with you

and you

crazy in love with me

Kait King 2017

Oh no, I can’t get over it…

Getting over it - whatever

Somehow you get through – it’s not even that you learn to live with these things – they stay in our lives forever as part of who we are. In fact these are the things that make us who we are. They used to say this kind of suffering was character building. That may or may not be so, for me, it allows great reflection and understanding of my capacity to love and give love and in turn what it means to lose that.

One of the annoying things friends and family expect, is for you to “get over it” after a certain amount of time – whatever that time is. But there is nothing to get over. You can’t just imagine it’s behind you – things are not behind us, they are all a part of us. We carry them with the sum of ourselves. Maybe by putting things behind us we let our guard down, we love too easily again, we get hurt so much more because of that. Taking the good and the bad experiences is what makes you the person you are. Are you a fighter? Do you run away? Are you persistent? Do you give up? Whatever you do, you have to live with it – you don’t learn to live with it – there is no manual. You have no choice, choice has been removed from this section of your life and a loss of some kind has left a crater and a giant rock in the same place. Luckily the giant rock plugs up a lot of the feelings for a while – this is often known as shock. Eventually the putridness of your trapped feelings in this hole in your heart starts building up a mass of toxic gasses which must be expelled. This build up, over any period of time (as long as it takes you), causes a massive explosion. The giant rock is blasted apart from the hole in your heart. The tiny splinters of angst, hurt, devotion, honor,disbelief, love and any other betrayed related feeling you can imagine, is dug deeply into your heart and mind. Each little splinter of that pain has barbs of doubt, guilt and confusion holding them in place in your heart. And we can’t let go or it can’t let go of us or we don’t give ourselves permission to keep moving forward even though we are cemented in that time of tragedy and know that’s impossible, isn’t it?

The hard part is learning to navigate around these losses, grievances and betrayals, eventually like a powerful river we keep flowing around these rocks of hurt that seem like they will never shift or move. But they do erode – the erosion is so subtle and slow we don’t even notice and so it is, I believe, with tragedy, loss and grief; be that for a living being or a relationship of any kind. Loss leaves a big hole and a giant rock that you drag around with you all the time. Afterwards we question everything said and done, what could have been different, the “if only’s” and the “what if’s” with hopeless, empty dreams. Nothing can be changed. It is what it is, but I know I fight against this too, even though I understand the futility of the fight!

I think only in time will I manage to erode down that rock of loss, will I be able to take the sharp edges off and flow a little easier around the things put in my way that I have no way of changing. Perhaps time won’t heal the wounds, but perhaps time allows my river of life to smooth the edges of hurt. Perhaps it lets me build up strength so that I can push past that hurt easier, every time I have to go past that hurt again. Because it doesn’t go away….