Blink of an Eye

Domestic violence

that Evil Beast

Thriving on hurt

when all you want

is Peace

Insecure person

always comparing in loss

Punching out your feeble Anger

But your Family pays the cost

Vulnerable? Were you

beaten yourself?

Shouldn’t you know better

than to put them through

this Hell?

Poor little person…

Is that what you want

them to think?

So here you stand at

a Crossroad

You can change all of this

in a Blink

Kait King 2017

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To All Of My Readers: Please, can you help? This is an urgent request.

This is my brother and I 12 years ago, but now I wouldn’t recognize him…

He is jobless, homeless and trapped in South Africa with no way out. Please help me raise the airfare to get him home. I can not do this without a little help from a lot of people. Everything makes a difference. Please help me bring him home.

Thank you

Kait King

https://givealittle.co.nz/cause/please-bring-my-brother-home

Is a child molester worse than a child killer?

is a child molester worse

I just want to clarify that without a doubt – no form of abuse or harm, whatsoever to any living thing, is alright by me. I spend most of my waking moments and my work towards protecting our kids and vulnerable populations like animals, the elderly and handicapped as well. That was my whole focus for completing my Criminology degree – to be an advocate and a voice for those who cannot speak for themselves. With my psyche background, curiosity and life experiences I am led to many thoughts. Some I didn’t even know I would contemplate before I started my journey into crime and the criminal mind (as it were :)) I myself, have an analytical mind and like to have answers to things until there are no more questions left to wonder! And so with this in mind, I wonder if a child molester/abuser is worse than a child killer? I think to myself at least the child is dead at the hands of the killer and not turned into the living dead by the pedophiles in the world? My beliefs allow me to believe that the spirit of the murdered child will get a chance to return to the world if that is what existence means, but like I say – the child left alive is trapped in a living hell of self-doubt and self-flagellation/torture and that’s after the abuse has ceased. Sexual molestation is usually a prolonged relationship – an ongoing grooming and manipulation in order to keep the secret and obtain what the predator wants. Sometimes this goes on for years and is often times familial, or someone known to the victim, creating more guilt and a necessity for secrecy due to shame and embarrassment. So which is worse? Either way the victim and their family suffers and never would or should anyone have to make a choice between the two, but I am curious as to others’ understanding of the actual offender. And I also believe that if we discuss things like this more, we will gain a greater understanding of the predator and how we keep our children safe… So back to my question whether the child molester is worse than the child killer? Or are they just as bad as each other because whichever way you cut it, the life of the victim is taken away – physically or life as they should know it – but gone for good so that nothing is ever the same.

Horrocide

Horrocide

Death by fright

3 am in the night

when slimy things

crawl with evil

intention

where Coffin Flies fly

and the sky is a scar

that’s all you get to look at

not to mention

a stinking mattress and

a heavy clanking chain

she saw what he did to the other girls’ brain

A frantic

frenzied

desperate head

pleading, begging, wishing

to be dead

Haunting

hurting

watching eyes

that cut glass with spite

coming for you

strangling life

killing you with fright

© Kait King, 2015

Creepy Creep Creeping

Creep_Film_Still-570x380

She didn’t want to know, y’know

She didn’t want to see

Her man had been behind her back

creepy creep creeping

Another in denial, sat

She really couldn’t believe

He really couldn’t have done that

creepy creep creeping

Your heart is not safe

it says

your children are in danger

the many you thought was ‘dad’ material

turns out to be that stranger…

creepy creep creeping

© Kait King, 2016

I wish I could tell her

I wish I could tell her

While she’s trying harder

working it out

all her problems, hangups, pity and

self-doubt

And she tries too hard to achieve

because she’s lonely, angry,

she’s had no love to eat

And as far as this woman knows

it’s like a picture, no – a painting

or a movie, too slow

As far as this woman knows

it’s like fighting the fight

but not a fight that you chose

So she’s crying alone

no sleep at night

I wish I could find her

and tell her –

it will all be all right

© 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

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

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

The Unwanted

the unwanted

With a new non-smoker righteousness

you glare at all of me

I’m vulnerable, I’m open

Don’t you want to hold all of me?

Will you curse the shape of my body

or my heart

my spirit

my dream or

perhaps just all of me

Your love that I

need so desperately

makes you dislike me

immediately

I am but a child

I didn’t ask to be born

But please, can you not hug me,

feed me –

keep me warm

© Kait King, 2015

She is nothing like me

Nothing like me

Gingerly I type the words, wondering if I may be the only person who thinks like this. god’s daughter is turning out to be more appalling than horrific, more repulsive than disgusting. I can feel her like black tar in my mind. She calls me to write her out – to layer her like a black wedding cake, all the details – the spiders, the webs, the cockroaches, the mould and dusty aura of her mind. The corners of her life are all in shadow, a shadow I have to be brave enough to step into and feel the darkness that is god’s daughter. She wants to be created but she doesn’t want me – I am nothing to her, just like everyone else.

And she is nothing like me…

Last thought in a Playground

playground thought

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

Being the Ogre

being the_Ogre

You promise you’ll be home tonight

to kiss the kids and hold me tight

You tell me it won’t be the same

until it happens once again

You say I am the only one

and what’s been done can’t be undone

I stay quietly alone all through the day

watching our kids grow and play

and when the door opens later at night

they think you’re home, that they are all right

But bedtime comes and they can’t wait up

I am the ogre who’s taken their pup

Little do they know you don’t give a damn

Fathers’ like you shouldn’t be called men

© Kait King, 2015