Lovesick

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

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Glazed and confused

glazed n confused

They’re staring at me

those doughnut holes

the sprinkles and

that fucking maple syrup glaze

Those different flavoured

cream-filled ones

screaming out my name

They ooze confidence

knowing my desire

my taste buds inflamed

those gooey pink shades

that sticky chocolate shine

that fucking maple syrup glaze

I can’t make up my mind

© Kait King, 2015

Lest Someone Forgets

lest we forget

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

© Kait King, 2015

Something or Something Else but never Everything

something and something else never everything

I’ve often wondered why just about everything we discuss has to be blah blah blah OR blah blah blah… Why can’t it be both? Why is it not possible that these things are symbiotic? Co-morbid? Dual catalysts? I listen to people discuss the big question of how we got here. The options, in this conversation, may I be so polite, are:

  1. We are created by God
  2. We are from an alien planet and arrived on a rock from outer space
  3. Darwin’s Theory of Evolution

Okay, so everybody’s got a point and nobody has the answer so there is some validity of possibility in each perspective. Especially if you consider the human to be made up of physical, mental and spiritual capacities and needs, which I do. And in this debate there is even more than two sides to contemplate. So each individual has solid, understandable reasons – well within reason, and are glued to the ground on what those reasons are and why. The discussion becomes what people like to call “heated”. I, totally unlike my robust debatable self, still did not get involved. I could hear the rising of offensiveness from each party as the others poo-poo’ed each others perspectives and theories. It wasn’t going to end well, nobody likes to be poo-poo’ed.

After the hoo-ha and everyone had left, my man and I plonked ourselves in front of the television, grateful for the calm noise and not the hysterical noise. Everyone would get over it but it was always the same with the topic of how we got here, not just with people I knew, but many will argue these points to the enth degree, with really, no real evidence to be honest.

So for me, I decided that being only human, I really knew sweet F.A and to tie it up nicely in my head, I just gather all of that info and think that maybe we were created by some super entity as a 3rd rock, as a planet within a universe. But that was all, then one of the stars in that universe, with life in it, crashed into this 3rd rock and was the prime delight to allow things to flourish and grow, and so it did. And things did evolve and become this amazing exotic world we are fortunate enough to live on now.

Why can’t everyone be right? They can be right somewhere in a time continuum of the human development and creation. They just all need to put their stories together. But like I say, nobody has the answers, and maybe we don’t even find out a bloody thing when we die and still know jack-shit (a good friend of mine)…

The other thing people tend to do this with is my favorite topic – serial killers. For some inane reason we have to ask whether it is nature OR nurture….it’s both for dog’s sake. If you could take a serial killer as a baby and nurture him in a certain way you will either bring out or highlight the best or the worst of that character. What I think we need to realize is that this is a possibility for every child as again, everybody has the capacity to kill, it just depends on how that is brought out in you. For some people, all that has to happen for them to pull out a gun and kill someone, is an insult outside of a bar. For others (myself included) I would have to be in a situation where my life or the life of someone was threatened and they were being hurt. Then I become the killer. We all sit somewhere on that continuum and depending on how we are treated is how we will react. But at the end of the day, intention, mens rea, is everything. So for me it is both, not one or the other in this instance too. I’ve been finding out in my life that things are not always black and white. Human beings are complex, emotional beings with such a variety of combinations of everything that it is impossible to label or put people in boxes. It just doesn’t work like that.

But I must stop rambling now – I have so much I could scribble about – but I will not bore you with my ranting and raving. I put my soapbox away…;) thanks for reading though, if you got through it!

Old Words Lost

Kiss it

The Japanese have called this generation “The Strawberry Generation” – this is because they bruise easily, have no resilience and give up in a heart beat. Because everything is so readily available on-line, whether it be from clothes to sex – you can own it, see it, have it – now, pretty much. I notice that our young people are not used to having patience or having to work for anything because everything is just ‘there’. So have we created a generation of spoiled brats? Or impatient and uncontrollably angry and frustrated youths? Are these people going to be the adults that have to look after our elderly generation? I don’t mean to cluster everybody into the same box, as this is not fair or true, but I do believe that many of our young people have these attitudes and belief structures about life.

Along with instant gratification there is also this “throw away mentality”, so we have the availability and the discarding instantaneously, of just about everything. This is now not just the discarding of unwanted objects like clothes or a cell phone, but the discarding of humanity. We throw away so much – even letters that belong in words. But that’s ok – I get it, it’s simpler, quicker, textier….it just feels like the next generation is forgetting how to spell – or never learned, or how to use grammar – capital letters, even. It just seems a little sad…and throw away, and wasteful…and sometimes fucking annoying to try and decipher when I shouldn’t be bothering anyway, but I do try.

I don’t think I would care so much if I wasn’t so into words, language, creating stories or getting a point across. I don’t want to live without words like devotion, loyalty, dignity, grace, honour. Not only that, but I want those words to be relevant in day to day relationships – at home, at work, at play. To operate in the world with dignity, with grace – these things seem not to have been shown to many young women. I want those words returned to us as women, I want them to be a part of how women are described. Not skanks, sluts, bitches, snobs, beeatch and every other name that is used to describe us these days.

And who wants to be loyal to, devoted to or honour a slag anyway?

No Regrets

life's too short grudges

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

Your Old Sweaty Shirt

sweaty tshirt

That’s the last thing you wore

that held your warm body close

It was the last thing before

your heart and pressure slowed

A cloth got to finally hold you

something I never got to do

People say that it was better that way

But I don’t know if that’s quite true

I hold your once sweaty t-shirt

drenched now with my own tears

and try to inhale what’s left of you

As it fades from all the years

© Kait King, 2015

My Dancing Feat

My dancing feat

There were just

too many

in this crazy crowd

Crushing in on

me

So I’m unable to

shout out loud

It was just

way too

noisy

in that clamouring

sweaty swarm

Body smells too

pungent

The air I breathe in

is warm

The darkness

has a dampness,

a claustrophobic clamp

The lighting bulbous

and hypnotic –

like a giant lava lamp

A pulse

united in

a passionate beat

And ignoring all

the warning signs,

I’m led by my dancing feet

© Kait King, 2016

Here, take the knife

here take the knife

Carve the edges off your haunting pain

With time as sharp as a knife

the moments slide by in an agonizing grind

You’ll have this moment for the rest of your life

My feet sunk deep in a cement grip of permanence

a ball and chain of grief connects my soul to the earth

My bones and skin just vehicle remnants

My soul will have rebirth

© Kait King, 2015

Music Love

music love

Music to my ears

bouncing round my soul

shining through my eyes

making me feel full

precious stones of a polished melody

the funky bass is outta sight

pulling strings in harmony

the drums all sittin’ tight

the words are lazy, cruisey, bluesy

summer feeling

stealing through

the music drifting, holding

lifting

Music Love is true

my Music Love is true…

© Kait King, 2015

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

rastas

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