When I write
every word is like
a finely crafted feather
particles of a winged voice
To uplift imagination
poor soothe upon torment
A flight path
mind’s destination to dream
picture perfect characters
who they are
where they belong
where you fit in
Nestled tight
keep out cold
turn against the winds of ice
water falling crashing calling
the feather nestled tight
let your imagination take flight
with these words I write
© Kait King, 2015
“I think legally, ‘Sole Custody’ should read ‘Soul Custody’, and we all know why…”
© Kait King, 2016
Lash me to you
bind me
with your love
string me along with
the world’s largest ball of twine
that’s fine
Wrap me in your arms
swaddle me in your dreams
Take me further than
the ends of our Earth
As far as that may seem
© Kait King, 2015
If you are able to correct something
that is harmfully wrong ~
Then it must be done.
© Kait King, 2015
The night before, we had argued. We had argued because he had consumed two bottles of red wine and anything else that he could find the dredges of, which would be almost zilch because he always finished everything off. Anyway – I’m not a huge drinker and not during the week to the point where I wouldn’t be able to get up for work. This guy used to drive to work, still drunk, the next day. I often used to find him slumped over his steering wheel, car jacked up half on the curb and lawn or driveway and curb, the lights and radio still blaring. The drivers’ door askew and one leg hanging out. Like it’s the thought that counts…he thought he could get home, get inside the house…ridiculous. So this was why I was mad.
Anyway, as you do, I couldn’t sleep and lay in our bed wondering how the hell did I get here and how the hell I was going to extricate myself from it all. It must’ve been close to 4 am and I hear his car bumble into the driveway and something inside me wished he’d just stay in that car tonight, I was still pissed at the whole uncaring scenario. Alcoholics tend to not give a shit – like just about every other addict addicted to something more important than you.
I can hear him scrabbling around with his keys and I hear him talking nonsense to the cat and rummaging in the fridge. I make sure my back is turned as I just cannot face an argument with an illogical, loud, irrational drunk. He comes into our bedroom. I can hear him undressing and I lie quietly – trying to make my breathing sound even and as if I’m well asleep. He’s struggling to get his pants off and falls around the room, cursing and bumping into things and then collapses onto the bed, snoring.
I pluck feebly at the bed blankets he’s trapping underneath his comatose body. I lie there trying to figure out how I’m going to breathe for the next while, till I have to get up for work, as the room is turning into an alcoholic gas chamber. I only have to wonder about this for an hour and then I will have to get up to open the restaurant for breakfast. I can’t stand it so I get up. I decide to have shower to shake off the sleepless night. We have an en suite and I find my way there in the dark and turn the light on on the inside of the wall. A faint beam streams out, highlighting the bedroom as I turn to close the door behind me. In the moment the light poured itself briefly over my sleeping partner, I noticed something strange. All I could see were maybe two dark lines down his back – up to where the covers hid the rest of his body – from the sort of elbow area down. He’s lying on his stomach and is snoring facing the other way.
I gently open the door a little wider so that more light can try and identify what I am not sure I am seeing. I tentatively take a step back into the bedroom, squinting in the shadowy room. I keep going towards the bed and stand there looking at him. If you had been recording it, it would’ve looked like something out of those spooky paranormal movies. I was trying to figure out what he was wearing. I lean forward and carefully pull the sheets back to expose more of his body.
I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, scream or punch him. He was wearing a petticoat, with little string straps and a lacy trim. I was like, what the fuck!! I was in shock – I tell you, there is nothing like finding your man dressed up in women’s lingerie to wake you the fuck up out of your grumbling stupor of a morning.
His name just fell loudly out of my face and I was still clutching the tented bedclothes above him. His drunken scrunched up face dug itself deeper in the pillow and an arm came out to grab the blankets back.
“I like it! It’s nothing!” He slurred and promptly fell back into his drunken slumber. Well, I’m sorry, but I have nothing against anyone doing things that are consensual and don’t hurt anyone, but I do want to be the only one in the lingerie!
We spoke about it and he denied, denied, denied. It was crazy – I mean, I saw him! Needless to say as I like my men all man, I left and we have stayed friends. Interestingly enough his next girlfriend contacted me in a very distressed state to say that she thought he was cheating as she had found a suitcase of women’s lingerie, stockings and high heel shoes in the boot of his car when she had borrowed it one day. If only that were the case.
It was strange because after the initial shock and insulted type of feeling I had, I felt sorry for him…I realized that maybe he drank so heavily as he was trying to run away from who he needed to be. It may not be who you want to be, but it will be who you are…
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
Tripping
spilling
falling
dropping
words come tumbling out
Hedonistic
realistic
possibly artistic
like chocolate for my mind
are the words from my soul
replete
resplendent
and resonate
to make me feel whole
© Kait King, 2017
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.
- Integrity is everything and open-mindedness is anything when you write, whether for yourself or for the masses.
The grass squeaks
beneath my feets
Cold steals well into
my bones
Chilly cows in
frosty fields
complain in
mooing moans
The sun is
shining watery bright
glistening drips from
my watery nose
In the shade
of the rock garden
lies a frosty
useless hose
The dogs’ little
paws
hardly leave
a mark
It’s beautiful but
not my favourite time
I have Summer
in my heart
© Kait King, 2016
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
Howick 2013
When I sing
I feel this thing
all of my body cells
join
the vibration
When my voice
comes out
and I sing of things
I care about
I feel pure elation
When my body
can’t hep but
move
As I sway and sing
the groove
This here,
this is my perfect situation
© Kait King, 2016
© Kait King, 2015
pain
a grain of sand
irritating
anger making pain
the constant muse
restricted not abused
pain
as deep as a black hole
endless and whole
but from the oyster
emerges
the pearl
© Kait King, 2015
“Humans are like the weird sea creatures of the Earth,
Change the pressure and we can burst.”
Kait King 2017
That’s a bad combination
A Lover who’s a Man
It doesn’t matter,
you see
’cause he’ll take it
if it’s free
Yeah…that’s a
bad combination
a Lover
who’s a Man
© Kait King, 2015
My eyes feel
like I’ve rolled them in salt
My brain
just won’t let me sleep
I go through the stories
in my head –
blaming myself and
at fault
No one else
sees me like that
although they often find
the broken me
I’m not that hard
to interpret
My body stops me
being free
and my brain won’t
even let it
© Kait King, 2015
Sometimes I
feel like
my Soul is
desperately
trying to
escape…
Tap
Tap
Tapping
at the top
of my skull
“There’s
somewhere
else I’m
supposed to
be
Let me
out!
Set
me
free!”
© Kait King, 2018
02/04/2018
Understanding the Predator – Desire
Previously I discussed the behavior of the pedophile. Now I’d like to address the desire that spurns the predator into scarring our children.
Take, for example, the standard human relationship of a male and a female, or homosexual relationships as well, the straight adult male seeks a woman with say, an hourglass figure, long hair, big boobs, and maybe a small butt. Or what about a homosexual male relationship? He may, for example, be looking for someone who is tall, bulky and muscular or perhaps for someone who has an athletic build. Regardless of their sexuality, the desire to be with someone is created normally, from attraction to the adult physique – the physical is what attracts us all initially in the realm of adult relationships.
The first thing we are attracted to is what we see. That has been the norm since forever. As a woman I desire certain physical male attributes – I want a hairy chest and armpits, I like my man to be strong – have strong arms and chest, I like it that he pads around my house like a big cat – these are desirable physical attributes to me, as a straight female. We are talking purely physical attraction/desire so please keep this in mind. Straight men will have other triggers, which I’m sure we are all familiar with, like when she bends over, the way she flicks her hair back, her boobs when they squish together when she bends over, when she bends over…you know the drill! 😉
Anyway, let us assess what a paedophile must see as desirable in a child. Babies, toddlers, preschoolers, primary school kids,pre-teens – the majority of these age groups do not have a shapely figure and no breasts, no butt, no adult conversation. So is the pedophile attracted to those little cute, pudgy bodies, plump little cheeks and wispy head of hair etc? Physical attraction is what first triggers that desire, right?
What about those individuals who claim it is about control. Is it really about being socially awkward and being unable to talk to a grown woman/man? Is it then that every paedophile suffers with Asperger’s or Autism of some kind? Why don’t other socially awkward people become pedophiles then? I think it’s because it is not about control but about attraction – same principal as in the first part of Phase 1 – you cannot counsel, medicate, talk or religion me out of my sexuality – it is innate and this is why a paedophile cannot be rehabilitated.
All they will learn to do is hide their sexuality better, they will learn to be better skilled at obtaining silence from their victim/s, they will become better at saying what the professionals need to hear to let them back out into our communities. It’s a fault, it’s not fixable, you cannot rehabilitate away an individual’s sexual preference. It is that simple. The 35c solution is that simple. Parents and families who have lost kids to pedophiles, both spiritually and in life, also know it’s that simple.
Is what we have been doing so far working for us? Are our kids safe?
Attempt #1
I was two weeks off my 13th birthday – so yeah, I was 12 years old when this happened to me. We lived in South Africa at the time when I was raped, by a 27 year old American man that I sort of knew. That was the first time I thought about killing myself.
I was still thoughtful although quite serious about ending the agony and shame. I couldn’t look at my Mum and Dad the same way – something had changed in me and I wasn’t their lovely little girl anymore. I was damaged, tarnished, broken, tainted – I was dirty and undeserving. I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened and how little control I had had over anything that happened to me.
I couldn’t live with that uncertainty at that age. I didn’t want to live a fearful, doubting life! I had been, and should have still been, a carefree, happy twelve year old who loved horses. Now I held secrets, anger, fear and hate. My horse was my savior. I would cry into his mane all the time, feeling so hopeless. We would go for rides for ages or I would just lie on him, or with him, while he grazed in his paddock. He was the only one who knew what happened. And it ate me up.
That was the first time I contemplated suicide. I will tell you how I tried sometime, but that’s another story.
A Survivor
Does it matter
what color I am,
Does it matter, what color?
When I feel
just the same?
Does it matter
what faith I follow
Does it really matter, my faith?
When I can be
both deep and shallow?
Does it matter
if I’m alive or dead?
Does it matter
who it really is
When we all bleed
red?
Kait King 2018
Left of this curve
way in the past
where we made love
that wouldn’t last
I knew then
with that pain in my heart
And I know now
right at the start
© Kait King, 2015
It’s never easy talking about things that make us look weak in others’ eyes. Like suicide, like depression – we know it is seen as ‘ not coping’ so we say nothing. Saying nothing means nothing can change. The same negative thoughts, the same repetitive hate talk, the same triggers to feeling overwhelmed don’t go away…
But it’s never OK to talk about feeling like you want to kill yourself. Nobody seems to know what to do if you have ever mentioned it to anyone, or they cry and panic and call people you just didn’t want involved. Sometimes we mention it several times before actually committing or getting to a point of actual commitment to the act. If a blade is going to be used, there are often preparation cuts – which can put the person off using that type of method – as it kind of hurts! But if you want to kill yourself, you will find a way.
There is that old saying about someone attempting suicide is really a call for help. I think in many cases this is true. There seems to be no other answer to end the angst and pain. That feeling like you don’t belong and want out, combined with all the spiritual stuff out there that indicates we get more than one chance at life – we’ll just get to come around again. If you believe in God and heaven or Jesus – you believe in your salvation, you believe you will stand with Jesus on the other side. And if you believe that when you’re dead, you’re dead – well Hell, at least the pain, confusion and suffering will have ended.
The idea of death is the idea that it will be the end of the suffering – forever, like switching off a light. Or is it perhaps turning one on? For us? To shine a light on something we have forever kept in the dark. It keeps happening, numbers keep increasing, children younger and younger are opting out of life – Why? Our kids seem to be more violent, suffering more and lacking resilience.
Do they think they are in a game and have more lives? The Game of Life? Pass Go and do not collect $200…
The crackling laughter
in a clunking room
with a crashing band
on their début
Toppling patrons
a snarling fight
scantily dressed ladies
goose-bump in the night
Security stands
dark at the door
free thinking radicals
spiral on the dance floor
Falling about
in a giggly drove
Time is up –
time to hit the road
A taxi is called
some resist and complain
they take their car keys
never to be seen again
© Kait King, 2015
Pre-Occupancy
So nobody’s home
Just cardboard cut-outs
posed in my brain
Memories I can’t let go
Pre-Occupancy
A way to survive
Somehow to numb
the pain
Somehow to stay
the child
Pre-Occupancy
Merely a distraction
Something to hide
any connection
Anything to avoid
taking action
Pre-Occupancy
© Kait King, 2017
Filling in spaces
in the game
of my Life
The map of my body
a giver of Life
Changing my places
the marker beyond
And the trouble
with you dear,
is you don’t belong
© Kait King, 2015
Your’e fading
on me again,
Quietly moving
away
Distancing yourself
So that you think
I won’t notice…
The bed is
our friendly
enemy
Saving us
from ourselves
and each other
It’s a waiting
game as
your brain seasons
change
And you will
be back if
you go
And we go
through
This
… again
Kait King 25/01/2020
I know
what’s happening
to me
He’s found
his way
in
making me think
in love story
lines
making butterflies
deep inside
me
and a sickness
I cannot recover
from
© Kait King, 2015
Presumed guilty
before proven innocent
the unwilling participant
Assume the best
and prepare for the worst
Expectation costs nothing
but disappointment hurts
© Kait King, 2015
The wind makes my little cottage shudder and shake, the rain pelts relentlessly on the roof. I can hear the rumblings of thunder as things thrash around on the outside. The palms’ fronds that had died during the summer have now been flung down to earth ungraciously by the howling wind. Not a bird in sight of course, they are smarter than us. I don’t know whether to be slightly afraid or think “fuck it” what can happen? But suddenly I feel like Dorothy. Even though I’ve turned up my TV, the rain is really loud and I can hear the wind still, and the thunder…It sounds like a train coming. I remember someone telling me that earthquakes sound like a train or huge truck bearing down on you. I wondered if the rain was actually hail – it sounded so hard but it just didn’t seem cold enough. I’m snuggling down – battening down those hatches. I think about the poor cows taking a battering in the storm. Nature is so harsh – we have summer and everybody’s happy and then Wham! So this is winter – we will blow the crap outta you, sting your bovine crowd and make things generally miserable.
Oh Hello Winter!!…. mother-fucker….mumble grumble…
Listen to the episode of my podcast: Foot in Mouth Disease https://anchor.fm/kait-king/episodes/Foot-in-Mouth-Disease-e15l4ln
Listen to my podcast: Playing Dress Ups https://anchor.fm/kait-king/episodes/Playing-Dress-Ups-e16h8vt
I also would just like to point out that the unvaxxed were begging their vaxxing brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, uncles, cousins, aunts, friends – who had jobs in all aspects of society – to NOT take that poisonous experimental gene therapy. They heard us loud and clear but decided to follow dictatorial tyrants instead of doing research, listening carefully to the language used – be discerning! Every situation like this, one needs to ask 2 critical questions.
1. Who are the stakeholder/who benefits?
2. What is the benefit to them?
Then just follow the money trail. For it is all about profit. Nothing to do with health or humanity – more like humonety. Money and profit for them at the expense of our grief and pain.
Listen to an episode of my podcast: Crazy Horse https://anchor.fm/kait-king/episodes/Crazy-Horse-e15fsdl
Oh no, I can’t get over it. https://anchor.fm/kait-king/episodes/Oh-no–I-cant-get-over-it-e13o9va
Seismic airguns are used to find oil and gas deep underneath the ocean floor. Airguns are so loud that they disturb, injure or kill marine life, harm commercial fisheries, and disrupt coastal economies. These blasts are repeated every ten seconds, 24 hours a day, for days and weeks at a time.
Crazy isn’t it – that money is the most important thing to have…
It’s not even just necessary to live anymore, but needed in excess of a gluttonous, consumable rate. Also, sadly at the expense of every other earthling – plant, mammal, marine, insect life. Ultimately at the expense of our Mother Earth – without whom we wouldn’t exist….But sure, let’s go ahead and blast the oceans, rape and pillage land and sea. Mankind is adventurous and a conqueror! Of what? Ourselves? War seems to already qualify that bizarre question!
Discovery and experimentation for the benefit of survival of all living things is most definitely a necessity, don’t get me wrong. But destroying our only home for the benefit of gaining money is a totally different story. Forward thinking has become about bank accounts when it needs to be about human accountability. Animals adapt to their surroundings, blend in – whereas people force the surroundings to adapt to what they require, causing droughts, floods, contamination.
Humans are the most alien thing to this planet – perhaps we are the ones who don’t belong here…
Kait King 2017
Oh my Dogg! Designer Babies?!? Genetically engineered Humans?!? That baby is perfectly designed by YOU!
Kait King 2018
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
Listen to the most recent episode of my podcast: My home is being crushed under a tyrant. We need help, we need to be noticed as part of the uprising https://anchor.fm/kait-king/episodes/My-home-is-being-crushed-under-a-tyrant–We-need-help–we-need-to-be-noticed-as-part-of-the-uprising-e1bvq33
Describe a decision you made in the past that helped you learn or grow.
I believe it’s been
All the wrong ones
The bad decisions
The poor choices
They were my teachers
The water needed to grow
Were the tears that I cried
My food was
food for thought
I learned
I grew
I knew,
I knew….
More than an easy before
Way….
Way much more
Kait King
The writer's blogk 