You will never
have power over me
You’ve taken everything
that you can see
but you will never
have power over me
You will never
have my mind
You’ve beaten me black
held me behind
But I promise, you will never
have my mind
You will never
have my soul
You tell me I’m ugly
stupid and old
But I swear, you will never
have my soul
© Kait King, 2016
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.
This is not a Horror Movie
This is Real Life
Where a Mother kills her Child
or a Husband kills a Wife
© Kait King, 2016
I Stand With The Children of the World
A lisp
a whispered hiss
With a gristle hustle
and a deathly shuffle
you wind your way
back home
There’s a twist
and a freakish glow
in a freak show
the decaying beat
of a drum
hiss
a whispered kiss
of a driveling fool
your hunting days
are done
this
flayed lantern skins
bones used as tools
a soup bowl
not a soup bowl
but
a human skull
© Kait King, 2015
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…

You stand there
not knowing what to do
you can’t believe the Police are here
surely this isn’t true?
A blue light spins around the room
you can see the body
shadowed by gloom
It’s all surreal, but what you had to do
If you hadn’t grabbed that knife
the body would be you
You look down at your shaking hands
oddly think about how free you are
to meet
your holiday plans
He can’t really be dead – why haven’t
they called an ambulance?
And again, you realize …
that you are here…
just by chance
© Kait King, 2016
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
Ted Bundy
Our monsters don’t look
like monsters
There is no way to tell
If they’ll share a slice of Heaven
or bring the hate of Hell
They don’t all have dangerous killer looks
they are not all uneducated and despise books
Look at Ted, a prime example
of a learned man who was extremely harmful
Ted Bundy, yes
he was an educated man
but not smart enough
to avoid the hang man
Then there’s really insane
Like Mr Ed Gein
who danced in the moonlight with his mother’s skin on his face
© 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
A theft of burglars
crept into the night
they knew where
they were going
they had a place in sight
As they scuttled through
the darkened street
you could feel their energy
tense…
but upbeat
They were not all that young
in fact they were nearly all forty
and had been slapped on the wrist –
many times,
told they were naughty.
They all knew this time
that it was not the same
They were tired of pilfering
the small stuff
and wanted
bigger game
So the hunters they clambered
and climbed over a wall
Avoiding CCTV cameras
and a police phone call
Entering the darkened house
gold and cash
was all they saw
It hadn’t really dawned on them
there were people there
at all
So when the mother,
who was all alone,
got out of bed to
defend their home,
The burglars, they
did not take flight
the burglars, they stayed
and put up a fight
The burglars, they took off
as murderers into the night
and the murderers, they knew
that they had taken
a life
© Kait King, 2016
Something nefarious
is going on
Something deceitful
something quite wrong
Then something fantastic
is happening here
Someone’s falling in love
someone finally cares
Now something sad
has taken place
She can’t even bear
to look at his face
So something shocking
has now occurred
She killed them both
Have you heard?
Something nefarious
is going on
Something deceitful
something quite wrong
© Kait King, 2015
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