The Most Important Thing

THe most important thing racoon

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

Blood Bright

Blood bright 2, blood

Blood bright

and sharp

as a knife

Twisted as

a hemp rope

Gettin’ into

my life

Deep, dark

whisper

coarse as a

saw

Asking me

to write evil

out

more, more….

more

© Kait King, 2015

When I Sing

me-singing-at-howick-show

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

Music, Music – food for my soul, it spits me out and then swallows me whole

music

© Kait King, 2015

The Pearl

the pearl

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

I remember you Dad

I remember you Dad

I remember being only

knee-high to a grasshopper

and you would twirl me around

you let me stand on your feet

and danced with me

while I clutched at your

chino trousers or

the creases on your business suit

You never minded

we always danced

I remember pouring your drink

two fingers of Glen Morangie

two fingers being my index and little

but not really

I mixed that whiskey with two blocks of ice

and a dash of chilled water

I remember how you would savour it

in the South African sunlight

at the end of your day

I remember the love of words and animals

you gifted to us all

your funniness

and sense of justice

I remember you telling me

to eat my crusts

so that I would grow hair on my chest

and I did – eat them, not grow hairs on my chest…

I remember you used to type

business letters on my belly

and I was an old typewriter with a runner

and a “ding!”

which tickled the hell out of me

“Dear sir” you would type

I’m shrieking with delight

And the photo’s that I have

I remember you Dad

© Kait King, 2015

With love and dedication to my incredible father – the walking Encyclopaedia, the uncapped academic – I miss you, we all do xxx

Fandamily

family-guy-3

I knew I loved this family

from the very start

It felt like I’d always been there

and we’d never been apart

With our delicious little secrets

and our family photo art

Boisterous family dinners

and cheeky, jeering remarks

Mum’s delicious orange chicken and

her cinnamon apple tart

I knew I loved this family

from the very start

© Kait King, 2016

Under Pressure

Under Pressure tumblr_nnjyvjRE7l1r5kiffo1_250

“Humans are like the weird sea creatures of the Earth,

Change the pressure and we can burst.”

Kait King 2017

A Bad Combination

bad combo

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

Letmeout!

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

Somewhere Else…

Somewhere else

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

Child Abuse: Phase Two…from behaviour to desire

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?

My Journey with Suicide

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?

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

Hindsight

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

The Game

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…

I’m no secret

I’m no secret
I’m loud and clear
I love you babe
put away your fear
I won’t leave
I won’t bow out
I promise
I’m good for it
I’ll leave you
no doubt
And all I ask
in simple return
is the love
from your heart
that I know
I have earned

© Kait King, 2015

Sleep Deep if you Dare

Sleep deep
Sleep light
Lucky you
if you
sleep tight
Sleep long
Deep sleep
Eyes closed
yet you
still weep
Eyes open
Brain awake
Each breath breathed
a life
at stake
Eyes closed
Brain aches
It seems
like an hour
each second takes
Tweaked bedclothes
Twisting dreams
When are you awake?
Never, it seems
© Kait King, 2015

Before you go out tonight…just sayin’

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

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

The Outsider

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

Like the Seasons

15478110868_cf57cafc79_b Like the seasons HiveMind

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

Lovesick

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

No Expectations

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

Last thought in a Playground

She’s beating the

crap out of me

I want to be

retaliatory

But I can’t find a gap

to even try

and hit back

She kicks me in

my side

Everyone there wants to see

me cry

I can hear their

jeering calls

of magnified echoes

charging through halls

This strange metamorphosis

in sound

is my ticket off

the gravelly ground

And I can see myself

lying there

The group of bystanders

shout and cheer

My body, I see

crumpled like

a sack

And I never even got a chance

to throw a punch back

© Kait King, 2015

Rise Above

Jealousy
Please leave me
Let me walk free
from your grasp
Honesty
Please fill me
Set my words free
with that trust
Stupidity
Please abandon me
Let me hear twice but speak
with one voice
Integrity
Please empower me
Take over my mind and body
to make the right choice
©Kait King 2017

The Rut

My laugh is empty –
it’s lost it’s guts
I feel myself falling
into one of those ruts
That long
dark hole
I think I’ll never come back from
That “odd-one-out” feeling
that I really don’t belong

© Kait King, 2016

No Regrets

Did they say they didn’t
want to know you?
Could you pick your father out
in a crowd?
Did your mama love
and leave you
And you were left crying
out loud?
I wont’ listen to your
estranged olden day voices
when men were men
and women had no choices
Were you just a sad
disappointment?
Did they help when you
were down?
And what about now that
they are not here
Did you say the Love word
while they were still around?

© Kait King, 2015

If I could…

If I could cut out your

heart

This is how it would

feel

And the music will tell

you

How come it’s so

real

If I could cry with your

eyes

This is how it would

feel

And the words that I

sing

Is how come it’s so

real

© Kait King, 2015

Avoidance = Safe

I’ve been loved
by someone
When I wanted
to be free
And I’ve loved someone
desperately
When clearly
they didn’t
love me
I couldn’t find
a balance
I felt all men
would just hurt me
I made a choice
very purposefully
And I withdrew
from family, friends, and society
Alone
I finally could see clearly
the common denominator
in my failed relationships
was me

© Kait King, 2016

Oh Hello Winter!!….mother-f***er…mumble…grumble…

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…

Do You Really Want To Know Me

I don’t want to be known

just by an icon on your phone

I want to be recognized

by the color of my eyes

the curve of my smile

Things you’d know when

you’ve known me a while

© Kait King, 2016

Podcast time #5

Listen to the episode of my podcast: Foot in Mouth Disease https://anchor.fm/kait-king/episodes/Foot-in-Mouth-Disease-e15l4ln

If I lay in your arms

If I lay in your arms
on your chest
near your heart
I can feel the pulse
of your veins
the beating of chambers
the haunting hush of air in lungs
If I lay in your arms
my head on your shoulder
near your mouth
I can feel the warmth
of your breath
see the curve of your lips
I want to crush with my own
If I lay in your arms
my body rested against you
touching skin
I can sense the need in you
the desire in me
the smelting ore of us both
even in rest
If I lay in your arms

© Kait King, 2015

For the Love of Rastus – R.I.P 20th May 2016

A bright orange glow
you sit in the hedgerow
thinking you are hidden
and will get to catch the forbidden
but little do you know
your gingerness does show
even though you’re so still sitting
your camouflage seems to be what’s missing
You see the birds and can contain the frolics
but I’m sorry Rastas –
You stand out like dog’s bollocks!
You must wonder how come you don’t catch a bird
they must look at you and think you’re absurd
You’ll never catch them in your bright orange coat
Or feel their silky feathers in the back of your throat
I’ve seen the odd field mouse stiff on the bricks
but I just know, that’s not how you want your kicks
A crispy crunchy sparrow or a larger tasty minor
or perhaps a tender inside bird, something a little finer…
© Kait King, 2015

Wildest Wind

A Wild Wind blows amiss
the plants and trees –
not a gentle kiss
Like a Louis
the Fourteenth dance
All the stately
tree branches prance,
Individual as the players
of many orchestrated layers
They fling themselves
around
Ancient roots hold tightly
in the ground
as the Wildest Wind
does its very best
to keep the tree branches
from any rest

© Kait King, 2016

Equal but Different – Let’s Celebrate!

I believe we are stumbling blindly into an inferno of uncontrolled hedonistic violence and sex. There is no argument that sex and violence are two of the most basic instincts in a human, particularly a male as he is the protector and the pro-creator; or that these two basic reptilian responses have been a part of human nature since the beginning of time.
What I find concerning is the lack of the repulsion response to violence or unnatural/violent sex. Research indicates that women, or young girls, are not only joining gangs and becoming more violent in their everyday life, but also committing suicide in more violent ways. If we look back in time, women are the carers, the nurturers, the collectors, and gatherers. Women were seen as mysterious as they bled and didn’t die and could give birth to another human being. An amazing, necessary, and painful responsibility, but one that sets us apart as women and the carers of the next generation. I think we have lost track of that view. Is it because of Women’s Liberation? I don’t think it is because of that, but perhaps a catalyst after so many years of denial and oppression for women that they just went crazy and like most things they snowball into something unmanageable or inexplicable. Women needed to create their own freedom, this was a necessary journey but now we need another hero to pull us back to reality, balance and a normality.
So back to the violence factor. Women used to gas themselves or take pills to commit suicide. Men were the ones who used guns and ropes to do the same. Back in the 1970’s more and more suicides committed by women were found to be with razors, they would slit their wrists. Then they started shooting themselves and hanging too. Women were deemed to see suicide as a way of going to sleep and to look as “peaceful” as possible. They didn’t want their faces blown apart or a mess everywhere – that typical female response seems to be fading as we move forward, women seem to want to be seen as violent, angry, retaliatory and don’t fuck with me individuals. As tough as a man, as strong as, capable as etc. And there is no reason we can’t be. We are all on different levels of ability – what we shouldn’t be doing is denying that ability. We should celebrate our individuality, our gender responsibilities, our strong points – no matter what. But it doesn’t mean we aren’t equal in the ability to be human – we just have different EQUAL roles in the responsibility of the Universe, our lives, our people, children, plants and animals – all Earthlings have a reason to be here. All Earthlings have a role in the world, some of us know this role and others of us struggle to find our purpose. But what our purpose is not, is to degrade, belittle, or detract others from their journey.
I’ve watched Jack Ass and I wonder what influence that may have had on today’s young kids. When we were growing up, if we saw someone (young or old) fall over or hurt themselves or if they failed at something like a driver’s licence or baking a cake – we didn’t laugh and point at them and shout “Loser”. We sat down with them, put an arm around their shoulders, and told them that they would be all right and be able to do this again. We would help them, pick them up, dust them off, and push them forward again, not nail spikes of spite into their very soul to keep them pinned to the lowest low.
So I wonder what has happened to us all. I look rather sadly around me when I see more and more women with guns standing next to a Giraffe, Elephant, or Lion they “hunted” with an AK47, and I’m ashamed. Children and babies burnt, tortured,starved, ignored, and suffering, our elderly abused and forgotten to rot in unacceptable conditions, animals tortured and used for sick individual’s pleasure. But most disturbing of all is that it is a woman at the end of those appalling acts, more and more.
So I beg of us all as women to take back what is ours, our mystery, our caring, our nurturing and saving of the world. We are women. Our power lies in our ability to calm, talk, bring peace, negotiate, and love. Please help me bring our job-description back into the light, it’s who we are, it’s what we were made to do – I don’t want to fall into the hole of what everyone else is doing or hardening up for – if we do this we will crack and fall into a squidzillion pieces never to be a whole again. Am I living in the hope of a Utopia? Please say it isn’t so….
© Kait King, 2015

Sometimes a word

Touching many
or touching none,
the joy it brings
just touching one –
with a torrent of words
cleverly writ,
from the coolest phrases
in ancient Sanskrit
or perhaps a scribe in
a guttural foreign word
is the sweetest thing
anybody ever heard
And the English language
with it’s redonkulous rules
where no matter how good you are
it still makes you a fool…
sometimes

© Kait King, 2016

Feeling like the Titanic

She’s listing

dangerously –

hair unwashed

no make-up on,

even the Captain

abandoned her

uninteresting,

over-weight and

needy

Stuck in the

iceberg

solid

icy

cold

unwanted connection –

The dark will soon

be upon the wreck

alone

lonely

lost

In the dark

© Kait King, 2016

Gently

Slightly

gently

tumble on

down

fall into

my arms

you’ll not

be undone

Kait King 2015