I would just like to say this is purely my opinion based on the knowledge and research I have undertaken. I would like to also note that I have absolutely nothing against consenting adults indulging in whatever they agree upon but this is not the case with child abuse. Apologies in advance if I offend anyone, although, not if you’re a paedophile or an abuser or violator of any kind!
1.) Understand the Paedophile
There is no race, country, religion, creed, colour or status that child abuse does not touch. With or without; money, love, two parents, exceptional education or anything and everything money can or cannot buy, will not identify who will and who will not be touched by child abuse. The innate behaviour of a paedophile can’t be changed. I use the word innate as it is – it is a preference that a paedophile is behaviourally, innately (not by choice – like being homosexual) attached to and can’t change. For example, I am a straight female – heterosexual. There is no amount of counselling, medication, psychiatric, religious or any other kind of “help” to be offered to me to change the fact that I am heterosexual – you cannot counsel me into being a lesbian or a fetishist or to like B&D if that is not part of my reptilian brain sexuality and not who I, innately, am.
Perhaps if we took more of an attitude that paedophiles cannot be rehabilitated (as science realised with homosexuality – it is their sexuality and not a choice), perhaps then less harm would come to our children. The majority of paedophiles who go through rehabilitation programmes re-offend again and very quickly. How would you go through life without sexual gratification, particularly during the peak of your hormonal life without any sexual gratification even though there are numerous opportunities for you to fulfil that desire – and yet you can not. This is irrational and unreasonable to expect of someone’s sexuality. Sexuality is what we are hot-wired for as human beings. It is what makes the world turn. So with that being said, with sexuality such a massive part of our being as human beings to survive – how on earth can we possibly expect a known paedophile not to re-offend?
We look at the paedophile through our own eyes and perception – a “non-pedocentric” view, whereas we need to know how a paedophile perceives the world and his opportunity, his innateness and where he can be tripped up. We need to do extensive research into common identifiers paedophiles use to select a child to groom, whether on-line or in the real world scenario. They will be very different scenarios, also whether familial or non-familial grooming. The majority of offending against children was familial, but now with the internet and the availability that strangers have to our children, this is swaying. We need to do everything – not something – but everything to protect OUR children the world over. A society should be measured by the way it takes care of its’ vulnerable populations, not by how many meetings/summits/discussions a country pays for to discuss which assets should be sold or a lot of hot air where nothing changes but the hotel break was lovely and the food was great! For who’s benefit?
This is just the start of something I would like to continue writing about – this is Part One of goodness knows how many pieces, as this topic is fricken massive, but needs to be addressed. It is something that eats away at my heart and soul every day and so I hope whether you agree, disagree, have other stories, please share, please get involved because the more we talk about this, the more we find out, the more we can change. I mean, imagine if we could find out that the majority of paedophiles pick children who, for example, don’t make eye contact or wear the colour yellow – we would at least have something to work with. We must empower our children and remove power from the paedophile. I believe in the 35c solution for paedophiles – or use them for testing instead of our innocent animals – either way, they are taking up OUR kids air that they should not have to fear breathing anywhere at any time.
© Kait King, 2015
In Phase 2 I would like to continue with addressing the innate behaviour of the paedophile and the impossibilities of changing this, but with regards to desire and not just behaviour.
Betrayal
My Mama Says
Mum says
they’re just jealous!
But it doesn’t
stop them
from treating me
like dirt
The teachers say
just stay away
which is easy
if I was invisible
or didn’t mind
getting hurt
© Kait King, 2015
Pass it forward:
The Most Important Thing
She married him
when she was 23
and he was 37
She thought she’d met
Prince Charming
and he thought he’d gone
to Heaven
It didn’t take long tho’
for him to change
his song
And feel like he
was imprisoned
It happened so fast,
turned life on its arse –
she fell undeniably
and beautifully pregnant
She had her baby alone
while he drank and whored
in their home
No, it hadn’t been long
he was just bored
and it was just wrong
He had already been here
twice in his life
He had other children
and more than one wife
So with dignity
and as a lady
she took nothing
with her
just her baby
She didn’t want half
of the furniture
or a share of
the bling
She knew
she had kept
the most important thing
© Kait King, 2015
Pass it forward:
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
Pass it forward:
The best nightmares are the ones where you wake up before it goes bad…
© Kait King, 2015
Pass it forward:
Lest Someone Forgets
Why won’t you sing our song
We sing yours over here
Why don’t you whisper
our fallen’s names
Or don’t you really care
If blood alone had been spilt
Could you tell that blood apart
Or perhaps without the body
You could tell the difference
in their hearts
Why won’t you sing our Kiwi song
They fought as brothers in arms
They all fell in the same stinking hell
They deserve a name whispered
in the calm
For the fallen ANZAC soldiers of New Zealand, who’s song (national anthem) is not sung in Australia. We recognise and sing the Australian anthem for all of them when we celebrate ANZAC day over here. They were “brothers in arms” after all. C’mon Australia – do the right thing.
© Kait King, 2015
Pass it forward:
Creepy Creep Creeping
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
Pass it forward:
Choose to Lose
Oh what to do
when someone
cheats on you
Oh what to say
that even though –
you want them to stay
And how do you choose
how you want to lose –
you know he knows
he’s won –
and he’s already started
and nowhere
near
done
© Kait King, 2016
Pass it forward:
Look at me…
Look at me
waffling on
happy as a bee
Look at me
skipping through life
thinking I’m free
Look at me
that wistful child
once so wild
and now independent
and grown
Look at me
with 3 under 3
and a house I don’t
even own
Look at me
shared weekends
if we’re lucky
And I know you’ve been
sucking
someone else’s cherry
lip gloss
Look at me
bitter days
long nights
spent watching crap TV
Never to be
free –
the very unhappy
divorcee
© Kait King, 2015
Pass it forward:
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
Pass it forward:
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
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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
Pass it forward:
Does it Sting? – aka Pointless
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
Pass it forward:
Is a child molester worse than a child killer?
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.
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Fused, but not at the hip
I was standing at the front desk, chatting to another work colleague and an awkward scrawny middle-aged man came up to the counter. I was in the watch-house at the Police Station. Being closest, I turned to talk to him. Behind me, I could feel everyone else cringe. I wasn’t sure why, but it dawned on me as I chatted with him to find out what he was here for, why the audible intake of air from my colleagues. I was just in work zone and had been troubleshooting all day.
Let me start from the beginning. When I turned up for work that morning – it was like 4 am or something horrific, being shift work. Anyway, we had three women and a man in our team that night and as shift changed over everyone caught up and swapped information – did the hand over thing. Of course we all gossiped about things we had dealt with, seen or heard that day, what the constables had been up to, failed at, succeeded in catching, blah blah blah and of course, some real oddities and this was one of them.
A young detective came into the office after his shift to catch up with us. I must say, he looked a little green around the gills but I didn’t think anything about it at the time. He gathered those of us who wanted to see (only myself and the guy I worked with), some evidential photographs of a case of abuse. It took a couple of seconds for him to get his personal screen and files up. He knew I was interested in the abuse of the vulnerable, certainly children, but the animals, handicapped and elderly were all in my sights and desperately needed help. So the photos upload to his screen and I take a second to understand what I’m looking at. I thought a burnt body initially and then realised she was on a gurney in a hospital with tubes and an oxygen mask swallowing her “White-walker”-type face. I turned to the detective and with a rather incredulous tone asked him if she was actually alive.
“She is,” he said, “she’s still alive. This woman’s son was supposedly looking after her. Somebody who managed to finally get into the house found her and called an ambulance.”
“I just can’t believe someone so thin is still sucking in air! And how old is she?” Her dirty, mottled skin was just managing to cling to the bones of her body. She was filthy – hadn’t been washed properly in years.
“She’s 92. When we got to the hospital they told us that it was a miracle. I personally think maybe not – poor woman. Her son hadn’t fed her properly or washed her, medical needs ignored. She had maggots crawling around in her vagina…”
“What the fuck! Are you serious man!?” I was mortified.
“I knew you’d love this case Kait,” he said smiling up at me from the desk chair. ” Not only that but her toes had fused themselves together – there was green mould and a stink you would never believe possible. She smelt dead but was breathing – the living dead, literally!” he looked quite pleased with himself at the reality of his reference.
“I’m absolutely stunned! So what did her son say…has he been arrested then?” I ask.
“No, not yet anyway – he’s coming in to be assessed by the psyche team and questioned. Apparently he didn’t know he was doing anything wrong…whatever!”
“Good grief! Who’s he been sleeping with if he thinks it’s normal for flies to come out of a woman’s hoohaa!” We had a bit of a giggle – it’s like that in the face of horror. Apparently she had gangrene as well, on her fingers and other extremities. One of the worst abuse cases I’ve ever seen and I’m sure many of the police – even seasoned ones – felt that way too.
So the day carried on and we had all sorts of shit hitting the fan – parolees, detainees, people who had lost kids, found kids, P cooks, drunken idiots, abusive situations – just the usual crap.
So anyway here is this awkward guy in front of me. I am my usual helpful self and ask him what I can do. He tells me he’s here for an interview with a certain detective. I contact the right detective to come and get him from the watch-house, in the meanwhile I say “So are you having a good day?” just to be polite and make his wait in a police station a little less awkward. I had no idea what he was here for – he could be being interviewed as a witness for all I knew. Well this was a trigger question for him as he just spilled his guts to me about how he had hurt his mother even though he was trying to look after her. He told me about the maggots and the mould – as if I was giving him the interview. It only took him a few minutes to vent his story and he stood quietly with his head down in front of my counter.
“How come you didn’t clean her or help her to clean herself?” I asked cautiously, making eye contact with him.
“Well….I….I….” he bumbled along.
“It’s OK,” I said “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to…” I trailed off.
He looked pleadingly up at me and I could see tears peeking out of the corners of his eyes.
“I want to.” he whispered.
I kept quiet.
He took a deep breath in and said “That’s my mum y’know ? I don’t want to wash her there or her top chest or anything! It’s not right…I’m her son – not even a daughter – I couldn’t do it!” The tears fell off his face. After initially feeling slightly ill talking to him, I found I was feeling sorry for him.
“Hell, I can understand that.” And I certainly could.
“So can you tell me why she’s so thin then? Why didn’t you feed her anything?” I pushed on through because there must be some accountability here. How can he get out of this one? Surely if he’d fed her she wouldn’t look like this. I tried to keep the picture of the poor old woman in my head, the decrepit, stinking semi-corpse that was his mother, to give her justice and keep a strong mind in this.
“I tried – I tried everything but she wouldn’t eat anything! I tried to force her but she choked so badly I was afraid to give her anything…I know now that this was wrong…” he looked down at his shoes, the tears still rolling off his nose and landing on the stations’ loud carpet. “She was my mum and she used to beat the crap outta me if I talked back or didn’t do as she bid. So I listened to her when she shook her head away from the spoon or growled at me, I left her alone….I was scared…” A slipknot of snot was making it’s way out of his nose and I tried desperately to keep a gag down. I managed. I passed him a box of tissues gingerly – not wanting to touch his skin at all.
Thankfully the detective who was going to do the interview arrived and took him through the security doors to an interview room. I stood there for a moment and realised where the blame lay in this. Society, society was to blame. Yes, he was at fault for not contacting the hospital or some sort of care for his mother, but he didn’t know anyone would help him. Surely if his neighbours had just said hello once in a while to the slightly, strange, creepy guy he might not be suffering endless guilt as it dawns on him in his slow mind what he has actually done. And his mother would not have had to suffer the enduring starvation and pain she had. It is about accountability – but who is accountable? We call ourselves a welfare state but whose welfare are we really caring for? I consider this man and his mother both victims in this instance and a severe failure on our many organisations parts. He was charged with numerous offences relating to the abuse of the elderly. I wondered if he wanted to lay charges against his mum for what she had done to him – for the monster she had created in him who would become her living nightmare.
What’s really sad is he will more than likely end up like his mum did….
© Kait King, 2015
Pass it forward:
I Stand With The Children of the World
I Stand With The Children of the World
Pass it forward:
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
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Oh no, I can’t get over it…
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….
Pass it forward:
But…
But…
I let you in
Nobody
gets in
You’re supposed to stay
not walk away
I shared
everything –
gave you my all
you were supposed to love me
not push me
and watch
me fall
© Kait King, 2016
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Rock Bottom
I hit rock bottom
I sat on that bottom rock
weeds and roots
tethered me close
and not in a Lovers’ Lock
Catatonic in my despair
broken like a car crash victim
I clutched at straws
and sucked in air
feeling like I needed
Lithium
Overwhelmed by what
I’m not
broken by what I was
fighting what it has to be
a fallen star, a lost cause,
tell it as it is
that old me
will never leave
it’s a part of what makes me
my body may have
let me down
but when I write ,
I’m free
© Kait King, 2015
Pass it forward:
No Way
There’s just no stopping
a speeding bullet
straight to the heart
With no clanking armour
or a bullet-proof vest
so it rips you apart
There’s just no way
to make it unscathed
through the day
with no love and no hope
no string to cling to
No reason to stay
© Kait King, 2015
Pass it forward:
She is nothing like me
Gingerly I type the words, wondering if I may be the only person who thinks like this. god’s daughter is turning out to be more appalling than horrific, more repulsive than disgusting. I can feel her like black tar in my mind. She calls me to write her out – to layer her like a black wedding cake, all the details – the spiders, the webs, the cockroaches, the mould and dusty aura of her mind. The corners of her life are all in shadow, a shadow I have to be brave enough to step into and feel the darkness that is god’s daughter. She wants to be created but she doesn’t want me – I am nothing to her, just like everyone else.
And she is nothing like me…
Pass it forward:
Do or Don’t, Can or Can’t

Don’t you leave me
left behind
Don’t you cut me
out of your mind
Can’t you see you’re here all alone?
Can’t you hear your heart say
This is home?
Don’t you hurt me for ever more
Don’t you walk away
and leave it all
You can’t hold me like that
then let me go
There’s something more
that you don’t know…
© Kait King, 2015
Pass it forward:
Blink of an Eye
Domestic violence
that Evil Beast
Thriving on hurt
when all you want
is Peace
Insecure person
always comparing in loss
Punching out your feeble Anger
But your Family pays the cost
Vulnerable? Were you
beaten yourself?
Shouldn’t you know better
than to put them through
this Hell?
Poor little person…
Is that what you want
them to think?
So here you stand at
a Crossroad
You can change all of this
in a Blink
Kait King 2017
Pass it forward:
Spot the deception
A Leopard may not
be able to change
his spots but,
he can camouflage
himself to look like
the harmless jungle
Is the jungle really
harmless, I hear you ask?
Yes, but for the camouflaged
spots that lurk within
Kait King 2019
P.S Do not trust those in power!!
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After the Fact
He rolled her up
in the carpet
He tied her up
real tight
He threw her into
the trunk of
his car
And screeched out
into the night
He knows he must not
draw attention
He must slow down his breath
and calm
He drove around
for hours
With her body
in the back of
his car
Delusional or clear
of mind
It really didn’t
matter
He was clear enough
to clean up
the mess
And removed
all of her blood
he splattered
He contemplated water
He thought about the dump
He thought about a mountain top
He could make it look like
she jumped
As dawn approached,
a screaming light
His stomach started
to rumble
So he drove her through
the drive thru
And didn’t miss a beat
or fumble
A steady hand
held out dollar bills
But his eyes he kept downcast
Not a thought spared for
his wife in the trunk
The love that didn’t last
© Kait King, 2015
Pass it forward:
Why Restraining Orders are Useless…
Would it not be reasonable to think that an individual who ‘requires’ a restraining order, is the type of individual who would break a restraining order?
Kait King 2017
Pass it forward:
Another Opportunity
Yes love,
that’s exactly
what you do
Dust yourself off
once you’ve
pulled yourself up
and sing
dance
stand tall
Honey if you
think about it
it’s not the first time
and be sure
it will not be the last
You know the rights
from the wrongs
Don’t ever let them change
your song
With a Nelson Mandelian
grace
and a dignity dug
from the deep
You will triumph
and in a cloud of
dust, like a rolling
Pig Pen
You flagrantly walk
your walk into
another opportunity
© Kait King, 2016
Pass it forward:
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