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

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Mother’s Day every day

My Mum and Dad in Queen St, Auckland 1956 I walk down the aisle my eyes passing over cards word springing out about Mum going the whole nine yards And I stop to read a few The words just seem insipid when I think of you, Mum A journey into the intrepid Four babies later and over 60 years married Through wars, tonsillitis, tears and love you tarried Now here I am a mother too And these words I say: “I love you” Have also come from my son’s mouth and heart But to say them to you doesn’t even begin to start to express what a fantastic Mum you’ve been You’ve done a good job, I’m a good human being So I tell you you’re an amazing Mum and people are proud of the job you’ve done!

© Kait King, 2015

Another Opportunity

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

Eddie G

Eddie G

A lisp

a whispered hiss

With a gristle hustle

and a deathly shuffle

you wind your way

back home

There’s a twist

and a freakish glow

in a freak show

the decaying beat

of a drum

hiss

a whispered kiss

of a driveling fool

your hunting days

are done

this

flayed lantern skins

bones used as tools

a soup bowl

not a soup bowl but

a human skull

© Kait King, 2015

Crystal Meth-I-Didn’t-Mean (Methamphetamine)

methididntmean-drugabuse_shutterstock-164052779-blowing-smoke-cloud-meth-fi

Crystal Meth

An addicts’ breath

Inhales a smoky dream

In reality

You’re never free

Just a brains’ endless scream

Crystal Meth

Talk in depth

Required by any means

Close to death

That last crystal breath

It’s not as great as it seems

Crystal Meth

Families bereft

Bury a loved one, crying

Cold caress

This Crystal Meth

And our children keep on dying

© Kait King, 2016

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

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

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.

Look at me…

Vintage mod rock

Look at me

waffling on

happy as a bee

Look at me

skipping through life

thinking I’m free

Look at me

that wistful child

once so wild

and now independent

and grown

Look at me

with 3 under 3

and a house I don’t

even own

Look at me

shared weekends

if we’re lucky

And I know you’ve been

sucking

someone else’s cherry

lip gloss

Look at me

bitter days

long nights

spent watching crap TV

Never to be

free – the very unhappy

divorcee

© 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

Crazy Horse

Crazy horse

A young man stood in front of me. Slightly overweight with a bad crew cut. His left arm was heavily bandaged. He held it out to me like an offering – a kind gesture.

“What happened to you?” I asked. He dipped his head shyly and poked a toe at the grubby, coffee-stained carpet.

“It’s a long story.” He mumbled, “I was in love with a girl. I loved her for a really long time.”

His eyes flashed up briefly to catch mine. Glancing up to the right and back to the floor he continued.

“We always walked to school together – I was, I guess, obsessed with her.” I could see another flicker in his eyes, but of hesitation or clutching at a memory. “I bought her flowers and chocolates, wrote her cards and love letters. For a long time…” he trailed off.

“How long?”

“I dunno…” He scrunched his face up as if he was in pain, then breathed out, “Six years, three months, one week and four days.” And obviously still counting, alarmingly!

“That’s a long time to love someone.” I said.

It’s a long time to love someone if they don’t love you back.” He said, looking directly at me – scrutinizing my reaction.

“So why did you keep writing and giving to her?”

I thought she would love me if I could show her how much I loved her. I thought I could have her. She would be mine – but she left. She came up here, to the big smoke. She got a job, and apartment, new friends – a whole life of her own. What she didn’t realise was that she was my life. So I came to live here too. Then I followed her from her work one day. Just pretended I was in the area and had bumped into her, random like. That was not a very good thing to do – she got really mad and told me to leave…to leave her alone.” He stopped, rubbed his good arm across his eyes and sighed.

“That’s when I got this really cool idea!” His face lit up with his remembered ingenuity. “See, I read in a book somewhere that Van Gough had cut his ear off and sent it to the love of his life. So I thought to myself that I would prove how much I loved her – I would send her my arm. That’s bigger than an ear – it must mean more! So the next day I go to work and do my job. When I thought everyone had gone home, I turned my skill-saw back on and tried to cut my arm off.” He swallows a gulp of air and grins at me crazily.

“Geez, didn’t that hurt?” I ask.

“That’s why I stopped!” he laughs. “I pushed my arm onto the saw and it sliced quickly -which was my intention. Blood pissed everywhere – it quickly got through the bones before I had a chance to pull back and well….it was just kind of hanging off and that’s when I thought to myself; Shit, what the hell am I doing – this hurts! What a mess too. I would’ve died too , I suppose, if the other guy hadn’t heard me screaming before I passed out.”

© Kait King, 2015

In spite of

inspiteof

I don’t believe you have nothing to say

that you don’t want to stand up

and shout

“don’t treat me that way”

I don’t believe you can keep quiet

for very much longer

the hate in you grows stronger

even though you deny it

it kills you every day

I don’t believe there is happiness in you

that you skip through every day

that your glasses are a rose-colored hue

that you are not reliant in almost every way

but that’s just not true

You drag yourself through every day

knowing that he will

punch you

humiliate you

control you

and you want to kill him

for killing you –

you try to think of another way

but nothing else will do

you have no money, no car or hope

this mean,

ugly-spirited human

says you can’t cope

in the real world

But you know that’s not true –

right?

© Kait King, 2015

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