Life suspended in a web-like hammock
the coffee smell not as nostril-curling as in the past
a homeless man stumbles along wet walks
dragging his sorry arse along the splinter lit street
a reflection of a sad life in a hard city,
his city, a place where he lost his wife and his job,
a home, his family
where he nearly took his own
when things were darker than ebony
and he had to walk his walk alone
A bunch of aggro school kids
too brash and way too loud
disrespect his foul figure on the skids
he had no room to be proud
He seeks a place that’s dry
it won’t be warm,
he knows a place where he can cry
and his aching tears won’t show
© Kait King, 2015
Kait King Poetry
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
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You know it’s over when…
So this is it
I mean nothing to you
I no longer exist in your world
There is no contact number for me
In your cellphone
anymore…
Kait King © 2015
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When I Write
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
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Suffocate me
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
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Dude you need a Tic Tac!
If you are able to correct something
that is harmfully wrong ~
Then it must be done.
© Kait King, 2015
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Playing dressups
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…
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OK, I’ll open my big mouth first…
Like I mentioned in a previous post, it’s not easy talking about suicide – especially if you are directly involved on either end of that very sharp stick. I have been on both and a lot of splinters in between. I said it was time to talk about suicide and all of its branches that lead us there and why. And it’s true, but I can’t expect anyone else to be prepared to talk or reach out, even to me, if I don’t do it first. I can’t expect anyone to do something I’m not prepared to do myself. So I’ve put myself out there, so what? I will continue to do so until things change about how we help others and ourselves. Until we find out what more we can do to help each other to understand, identify and prevent so much pain and misunderstanding, we must keep facing the fire and get to know it very well, very very well. Just like we delve into everything else we want to find out about, understand and manage. Why the dark shroud around suicide? It’s time to talk.
Kait King 2020
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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
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Chocolate for my Mind
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
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What can we do about child abuse? Phase One – Sexual
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.
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Junkie Corner and Gangster Avenue
Who’s hanging where
and why are they hanging here?
Are they sucking up the light?
Or just too noisy in the night?
Have the neighbors had enough
Are the gangs a tad too tough?
Do they scare you with their masks
and their everyday drug tasks?
Standing on a corner street
a clusterfuck of hopeless
listening to some grind beat
you just need to smoke, pop, toke this
there is no other option
but for crap minimum wage
Nothing there that stops them
And lucky to reach old age
© Kait King, 2015
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The Writers’ Blogk: Observation 4
- Integrity is everything and open-mindedness is anything when you write, whether for yourself or for the masses.
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Summer in my Heart
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
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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
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When I Sing
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
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Music, Music – food for my soul, it spits me out and then swallows me whole
© Kait King, 2015
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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
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A Bad Combination
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
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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
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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
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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?
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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…
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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
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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
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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
Pass it forward:
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
The writer's blogk 