I believe we are stumbling blindly into an inferno of uncontrolled hedonistic violence and sex. There is no argument that sex and violence are two of the most basic instincts in a human, particularly a male as he is the protector and the pro-creator; or that these two basic reptilian responses have been a part of human nature since the beginning of time.
What I find concerning is the lack of the repulsion response to violence or unnatural/violent sex. Research indicates that women, or young girls, are not only joining gangs and becoming more violent in their everyday life, but also committing suicide in more violent ways. If we look back in time, women are the carers, the nurturers, the collectors, and gatherers. Women were seen as mysterious as they bled and didn’t die and could give birth to another human being. An amazing, necessary, and painful responsibility, but one that sets us apart as women and the carers of the next generation. I think we have lost track of that view. Is it because of Women’s Liberation? I don’t think it is because of that, but perhaps a catalyst after so many years of denial and oppression for women that they just went crazy and like most things they snowball into something unmanageable or inexplicable. Women needed to create their own freedom, this was a necessary journey but now we need another hero to pull us back to reality, balance and a normality.
So back to the violence factor. Women used to gas themselves or take pills to commit suicide. Men were the ones who used guns and ropes to do the same. Back in the 1970’s more and more suicides committed by women were found to be with razors, they would slit their wrists. Then they started shooting themselves and hanging too. Women were deemed to see suicide as a way of going to sleep and to look as “peaceful” as possible. They didn’t want their faces blown apart or a mess everywhere – that typical female response seems to be fading as we move forward, women seem to want to be seen as violent, angry, retaliatory and don’t fuck with me individuals. As tough as a man, as strong as, capable as etc. And there is no reason we can’t be. We are all on different levels of ability – what we shouldn’t be doing is denying that ability. We should celebrate our individuality, our gender responsibilities, our strong points – no matter what. But it doesn’t mean we aren’t equal in the ability to be human – we just have different EQUAL roles in the responsibility of the Universe, our lives, our people, children, plants and animals – all Earthlings have a reason to be here. All Earthlings have a role in the world, some of us know this role and others of us struggle to find our purpose. But what our purpose is not, is to degrade, belittle, or detract others from their journey.
I’ve watched Jack Ass and I wonder what influence that may have had on today’s young kids. When we were growing up, if we saw someone (young or old) fall over or hurt themselves or if they failed at something like a driver’s licence or baking a cake – we didn’t laugh and point at them and shout “Loser”. We sat down with them, put an arm around their shoulders, and told them that they would be all right and be able to do this again. We would help them, pick them up, dust them off, and push them forward again, not nail spikes of spite into their very soul to keep them pinned to the lowest low.
So I wonder what has happened to us all. I look rather sadly around me when I see more and more women with guns standing next to a Giraffe, Elephant, or Lion they “hunted” with an AK47, and I’m ashamed. Children and babies burnt, tortured,starved, ignored, and suffering, our elderly abused and forgotten to rot in unacceptable conditions, animals tortured and used for sick individual’s pleasure. But most disturbing of all is that it is a woman at the end of those appalling acts, more and more.
So I beg of us all as women to take back what is ours, our mystery, our caring, our nurturing and saving of the world. We are women. Our power lies in our ability to calm, talk, bring peace, negotiate, and love. Please help me bring our job-description back into the light, it’s who we are, it’s what we were made to do – I don’t want to fall into the hole of what everyone else is doing or hardening up for – if we do this we will crack and fall into a squidzillion pieces never to be a whole again. Am I living in the hope of a Utopia? Please say it isn’t so….
© Kait King, 2015
Violent Women/Girls
Are You OK?
No, I’m not OK
she said
And I didn’t know
what to do
But all she really needed
was someone to
talk to
Not everything is
fixable
or even wants to
be fixed, so
we learn to live with
special things
sometimes things we would
never show
some things are just too ugly
to let anybody know
© Kait King, 2016
Bully
The words that fall
off your fingers
as you tip tap text
to me
are untrue, hurtful
and dangerous
You’re acting like
a bully
I don’t want to do that
but you threaten
me with this
You lied and said
I fucked him
when it was just a kiss
Why are you so
mean to me
What makes it ok
that you and
your so-called friends
hang me
and then
watch me sway
I couldn’t find anyone
I felt I could talk to
See everyone thought
it was true
But now I’m not here
any more –
I hope that’s better
for you…
© Kait King, 2015
A Mantra for those Suffering from Violence

You will never
have power over me
You’ve taken everything
that you can see
but you will never
have power over me
You will never
have my mind
You’ve beaten me black
held me behind
But I promise, you will never
have my mind
You will never
have my soul
You tell me I’m ugly
stupid and old
But I swear, you will never
have my soul
© Kait King, 2016
Is a child molester worse than a child killer?

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.
No, it’s not!

This is not a Horror Movie
This is Real Life
Where a Mother kills her Child
or a Husband kills a Wife
© Kait King, 2016
She is 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…
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
Holiday Plans

You stand there
not knowing what to do
you can’t believe the Police are here
surely this isn’t true?
A blue light spins around the room
you can see the body
shadowed by gloom
It’s all surreal, but what you had to do
If you hadn’t grabbed that knife
the body would be you
You look down at your shaking hands
oddly think about how free you are
to meet
your holiday plans
He can’t really be dead – why haven’t
they called an ambulance?
And again, you realize …
that you are here…
just by chance
© Kait King, 2016
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
