A present for a poo – for doggie lovers

It doesn’t matter what you do

chew up my panties

leave a present that’s a poo

bury personal items

dig a deeper hole

drag cow dung inside

pee on the stripper pole

rip up the newspaper

before it’s even read

take up most of the room

in my double bed

chew a cavern in the chair

bark at things that are not there

but I’d like to make it very clear –

There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you

even though I’m only worth a poo

I really, really do love you 🙂

(Just to make things clear, I’m talking about a dog, not my man!)

© Kait King, 2015

Rock Bottom

Rock bottom

I hit rock bottom

I sat on that bottom rock

weeds and roots tethered me close

and not in a Lovers’ Lock

Catatonic in my despair

broken like a car crash victim

I clutched at straws and sucked in air

feeling like I needed Lithium

Overwhelmed by what I’m not

broken by what I was

fighting what it has to be

a fallen star, a lost cause, tell it as it is

that old me will never leave

it’s a part of what makes me

my body may have let me down

but when I write – I’m free

© Kait King, 2015

Lucky

Lucky

Every second we suck in air, a child is hurt or dying somewhere in the world – that makes air a pretty high commodity and a very expensive way to look at breathing our air. Therefore make it worthwhile, make it count, but make it count in love and kindness, caring and passing on joy – not just to children but to all. Breathe your air with purpose, you’re really lucky, every day is a blessing 🙂 Kait King 2016

Anyway, Any way

Anyway Any way

I so wish

I could have

been a better mum

But he still loves me

anyway

I see the photo

next to me

Colors blue and grey

you and I

Not much to spend

but time

and he still loves me

anyway

I feel I may have

failed you in

too many ways

to count

In spite of that

you are a beautiful

soul

and you still love me,

anyway

Kait King 16/7/2018

 

 

 

Do or Don’t, Can or Can’t

Don't you

Don’t you leave me

left behind

Don’t you cut me

out of your mind

Can’t you see you’re here all alone?

Can’t you hear your heart say

This is home?

Don’t you hurt me for ever more

Don’t you walk away

and leave it all

You can’t hold me like that

then let me go

There’s something more

that you don’t know…

© Kait King, 2015

If I lay in your arms

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

The gift is Home

our family

Nothing says home like the food you know, the smells that trigger head movies and the comforting arms and hands that picked you up and helped you mix and stir and “help” cooking when you were a kid. They now welcome you back into the fold, embrace your grown-upness but still visualised as the child, as you will always be. Family time is noise in the kitchen, clattering dishes and chattering mouths – we women of many words create more warmth with our talking breath, better than the lukewarm sun does, trying to impress us through a shameless glass. The men, young and old – three generations of my blood, gather around the finger food that has been laid out to stop them from starving before the main meal…if you believe that, you will believe anything.

My father, the patriarch, his unwilling body fighting his sharp, determined mind – his sharp, determined mind that used to beat his body has put its hands up and retreated. His brain is stronger than anything else, bar maybe his heart. He peers over his heavily framed glasses all the better to see a watch face his grandson has handed him to look at. His 80 year old eyes squint and recognise, the information is swift and he says the battery is a blah blah…..his mind as sharp as a knife. His son-in-law hands him a glass of wine which he carefully holds, the glass is heavy and cumbersome to him, due to his muscular dystrophy. He already can’t lift the glass to his lips but our mother brings straws with them so that he doesn’t have to.

His grandson, Jay, is a loud kid and is learning to pull his head in, but does show signs of promise with his unresearched fury at certain injustices. Maybe the same way my father felt about all of those things 60 years or more ago. My father brought all of us up to question everything, accept nothing at face value and to take risk in a positive way. He had a strong sense of what was right and fair and he brought four crusaders into the world to carry on that legacy. Give a shit, the majority of the population won’t – so you just have to. It’s your duty as a human being with the gift of life on this earth…

The Hysteraunt

the Hystaurant 1

There’s anarchy

in the galley

In the kitchen

there’s uproar

The patrons have

ordered something but

there isn’t any more

The tantrumic Chefs

wave teatowels in despair

throw their knives around

and their hands in the air

The one who’s ordered

the supplies

takes a New York stripping down

The Head Chef shouts and

screams a little

wearing his foreign frown

Wildly gesturing – his anger

festering and then

things seem to calm down

Kait King 2015

Trust me

Trust me

Meet me in the middle

and I’ll take you to the end

Tell me that you trust me

and I’ll let you be my friend

Promise me the world

and it’ll fall at your feet

Run the faster race

’cause it’s me you have to beat

Don’t believe in rumours

and they won’t control your life

Believe in what you want to be

and step into that light

© Kait King, 2015