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…

I place the brain in its’ skull….

Place brain in skull

When I finally find my rhythm and I am the one eager to push forward. When I can’t help but mould and mash a character of no charm, or carefully fine tune a delicate life, an angry spirit, that tortured soul….nothing can stop me. Time is of zero meaning or consequence. Food and water are not necessities, they are interruptions – as is anything else that must drag me from my Frankensteinian stupor. My frenzied, impassioned creation can sometimes make me feel overwhelmingly powerful or incredibly tiny as I realise how childlike my perception might be…or is it drama queen stuff? Not naivete…surely….not another avenue to explore…surely. Let me write it out of me in some shape or form so I can recognise it in some shape or form, not just a passing thought….a forgotten idea, feeling…story. Place the electrodes and blast it into the light, out to the night, encompassed in fright…write, write, write

© Kait King, 2015

Who are we to Judge?

Who are we to judge

I have a secret

I will never tell

‘cos I think it will send me

straight to burn in Hell

Not by some god or

our changing Universe

but simply by Earths’ humans

the Worlds’ damning curse

Judgemental, judging

limited in their view

I must be of some demon

if I don’t see it like they do
© Kait King, 2015

And then…

and then

I thought that I had fallen in love

and then I met you

I thought that I had felt true love

and then I met you

I thought that I had given my love

and then I met you

I thought that I had been in love

then I met you

I thought that I had lost love

and then I lost you
© Kait King, 2015

Andy’s Addiction

Andy's addiction

Andy has a problem

he doesn’t know what to do

there’s a monkey glued to his back

and it’s really chewing through

his heart,

his bank account,

his tired soul

Andy has a problem

he doesn’t know how to say

that he doesn’t want to be here

not for another single day

of hurt,

of frustration,

in an angered mind

Andy knows this problem

he knows what he should do

but it wraps him up and chokes him

and he can’t see his way through

another single day

with no way

to feel

Andy can’t reach out for help

that would just mean pain

How can he reach out for help

when his hand is trapped

by shame

and addiction

and fear
© Kait King, 2015

You should be an actress!

You should be an actress

I didn’t want to

lay back

in the director’s

chair

I didn’t want to

take off my clothes

to help me get “up there”

I didn’t want to be

just bouncy breasts

on TV

I didn’t want my body

out there

for all to see

So I didn’t take

the money

I didn’t get

the job

not for any other reason

than I wouldn’t

suck his knob
© Kait King, 2015

sigh….

sigh

Sometimes I stare blankly at my computer screen, it gives me nothing back and I have nothing in my head. Yet it feels like something is very close…all I have to do is start. Just start somewhere…even if it’s exactly what is in my head – like “sigh”… They say writing is a discipline and this is very true for me. Even though once I’m actually writing I’m sucked into the void, it is sometimes a struggle to start. I love writing and get lost in the whirlwind of it all, and then wonder – why am I so resistant at times? Am I worried my words will get used up? I won’t have anything to write? And I have to mentally slap myself on the wrist – how shallow I am to think I would have experienced and felt everything there is to feel and experience so I could write about it.

The world and universe are far greater than the capacity my brain has to understand all things. I really am but a grain of sand in the big picture of things. We all are – but grains of sand make stunning beaches and pieces of paradise when put together….I wonder if there is something we should be learning from this? And who would’ve thought that a mere grain of sand on its’ own also had the power to change perspectives. That paradise beach is not so out of reach for the human race – if only we all stuck together to keep paradise a paradise…

The Velvet Darkness

velvet darkness

A velvet darkness

swallows me whole

squashing my air out

taking it’s toll

and all I want

is to breathe again

to run and laugh

with no restraints

The lost and forgotten

never truly gone

hanging on to your spirit

in some shape or form

But the velvet sleep

has a warming charm

as the comfort of death

it means you no harm

Succumb as you must

to it’s deathly grip

For you are the captain

and must go down with your ship
© Kait King, 2015

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

The Distance

The distance

between us

has run away

from me

Not even a little

puff of dust

did I get

to see

As the width,

the height,

the breadth,

the length –

Any kind of measure

you care

As it doesn’t

really matter

it only measures

the love

that’s not here
© Kait King, 2015

Keyhole Kid

keyhole kid

She wasn’t afraid

but she was alone

the house was empty

nobody home

She didn’t get angry

she didn’t have to cry

she didn’t even question

that she’s alone at 5 and why

It’s hard to find a window

that opens kind of wide

even for a little person

to end up safe inside

So she huddles on the step

trying to keep warm

wishing, hoping someone comes

before all curtains are drawn

Now it starts to quietly rain

and it’s getting rather dark

So she starts to walk down the road

towards Alberta Park

We never knew what happened

to that little girl alone

I just know she’d still be here

if someone had been home…
© Kait King, 2015

The Dance

The Dance

Devil’s dancing

in your eyes

tonight my anger’s

turning

lust related

through your lies

and now my anger’s

burning

Trust deflated

a poor disguise

today my anger’s

hurting

Love forgotten

nowhere to hide

tomorrow my heart

is yearning

© Kait King, 2015

Cheater

Cheaters

In a bigamist dual

you fight in your cheating bed

Secret office glances

and secret bathroom head

At home it’s just too boring

you don’t want to fuck your wife

but if she finds out

It will ruin your life
© Kait King, 2015