
Lovers locked
in this bittersweet
ride
Trapped in the momentum
a beat of the heart
Skipping through hope
not a care in the
world
Lovers locked close
just a boy
and a girl
© Kait King, 2015

Lovers locked
in this bittersweet
ride
Trapped in the momentum
a beat of the heart
Skipping through hope
not a care in the
world
Lovers locked close
just a boy
and a girl
© Kait King, 2015

There’s a part of me
that will always go on
I’ve shared this with our Mother Earth
She called him my son
There’s nothing so wild
as the ride that we’re on
mother and child
a bond
we hold on
And there you were
with paintbrush eyelashes
A baby blue blanket
and everything about you was so small
And here you are
with a shy tattoo on you
An eye, ear, lip piercing
And everything about you now is tall
There’s all of you
that makes me smile
When you hug me so big and
hang around for a while
There’s you and me and then
everybody else
I never knew that it would be you
to teach me about myself
© Kait King, 2015
I love you Jay 🙂 xxx

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

I don’t accept it!
Fine – kid yourself
How long do you think you can keep this up for?
As long as it takes…why?
You’ll die before you realise the truth y’know…
Whaaaaat??
Well, the truth is, acceptance.
If you accept it, it can’t fight you
That’s fine but what if I’m looking for a fight!
Whaaaaat??

I’m tired of you
And you’re tired
of me too
We see it in
each other
and we know what
we must do
But who has
the bed?
There was only
ever one, not two
What about the
fridge? The stereo
and our cat, Moon?
How do you
separate seventeen years
of stuck together?
How do you split
a vow
that was s’posed to
be forever?
When seventeen years
is much too soon© Kait King, 2016

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…

Just before a storm there’s that heavy aching feeling in the sky and electric air. It’s as if the god’s have eaten too much and they have swelled up the sky and filled it with their tautness.
The grasses, trees and shrubs are dead still and almost magnified – waiting – straining and erect for those precious drops of rain to fall upon them so that they too, like the gods, may gorge themselves on welcome water and be able to store up enough supplies to last them through the harder times in between.
I sat just outside to the left of my tent under a tree. I am watching for all the ‘damp animals’ – the one’s who like to frolic and dance amongst the drops as if giving thanks to those glorious gods who have so very kindly provided life support once again.
Gorgeous George is playing with some of the dry leaves that are beginning to stir from being whispered at a little too strongly by the ground winds that slowly pick up as the storm intensifies.
George is my kitten, only not so little anymore – I decided to bring him with me again – I had no idea that he would bring me so much comfort here out in the vast scrubland of Africa.
There is a small lizard; I can see him panting on a flat rock. His breaths are short – he’s sniffing the moist air- totally immobile. George has seen him too and stops fighting his leaf. Slowly he sinks a few centimeters closer to the ground – his eyes almost fully taken up with the expanded pupil. Wriggling furiously he prepares to pounce – still miles away from what he believes is an unknowing lizard. Changing tactics he stalks a little closer. The lizard has seen George now but seems unintimidated. Peering out from under a stalk of whispy grass, 2 out of ten for camouflage George, his whiskers straining, he leaps. His intense energy and passion catapult him well past the intended target which scuttles in between the cracks in the rock unscathed…for now.

Coming up for air
I see our tangled underwear
Like two bodies closely entwined
like the curl on a peeled orange rind
Resting nested soft and quiet
in the stillness after the storms’ riot
Gentle and soft, a loving embrace
your cotton jocks and mine, which are lace
© Kait King, 2015

It’s a Universal sickness
where nobody seems
to care
Our priorities are different
and now we don’t know how
to share
It’s a Universal sickness but
does anyone really want
to hear?
Does anybody even notice
the hopeless standing there?
Please show me a place that’s different
where people have a sense
of Universal share
© Kait King, 2016

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

In my kitchen
like a mad scientist
mixing and concocting
a kitchen bitch’s bliss
I stir the witch’s cauldron
a punch of that
a pinch of this
many mouths share muffled mmmm’s
a kitchen bitch’s bliss
© Kait King, 2015

I know I’ve never loved
anyone, anywhere
in any way even
close to the way
I love you
I’ve never hurt
anyone, anywhere
in any way
more than I’ve tortured
myself
about you
© Kait King, 2015

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

Good poetry is knowing when to stop the rhyme
Whether it’s two or two hundred
and twenty-two lines
© Kait King, 2015
It’s going to get dark again, even if the sun is shining. I know what I’m in for. Staring into nowhere with a sense of hopelessness and despair that seems to have no end at the time. So you’re back, you’ve returned with your sticky, clingy sadness I must wear as a shawl. It’s a shawl made of all my wrong-doings, lost dreams, failed relationships, and a frightening anxiety about the future. It weighs a tonne, and I struggle to sit up in bed with it on, or get out of bed, or brush my teeth or my hair… you weigh me down, Depression.
I didn’t know I was feeling so bad until I was in the kitchen making myself a coffee… I had been thinking negatively, granted. And the cold of winter doesn’t make it easy either, so the future looks grim with the situation I’m in. This is the exact time the Shawl of Depression draped herself securely around me, so I had to drag myself sadly and tearfully back to my bed. I see the sky, the sun, the birds, the beauty – the beauty in everything but me and my life. Then I tell myself off for being so ungrateful and get angry at the things that stop me from being who I want to be. My anger covers the fear and anxiety. I would rather be angry than scared. It’s a long process to get to angry. It’s a long, unseen, unknown process that puts me there in the first place, though.
I lie facing the wall. I don’t want to look at beautiful things. My eyes are open, I’m not moving though – my breathing hasn’t changed, it’s still rhythmical, and the tears just seem to fall out of my eyes endlessly. No noise, no change, nothing – just a waterfall coming out of my face that seems like it won’t let up. I don’t understand the grief or the sadness. Perhaps it is the broken me saying goodbye to the real me but refusing to let me go… In a little bit, I will sit up and write about this. It’s crippling and yet I know I have to ride this out. I know I should take a good look at those feelings, but I’m just too angry at the moment…
Kait King 2017

I didn’t die
I’ve just upgraded ….
© Kait King, 2015

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

You crush me
Yes, you’re bigger than me
You’d have to be blind not to see
that you’re twice the size of me
But I’m getting tired of being pushed around
I hate the way you always bring me down
Slutting yourself all over this town
And I lie here so crushed – so deep underground
© Kait King, 2016

I can hear the cicadas
with their sliding
grinding legs
laughing kids
melting ice-creams
Clothes freshly dried
on a line
neatly pegged
That sun shine
warm tar
summer rain smell
That open-roofed car
chasing oceanic swells
Those exotic looking palms
lining Rodeo-type roads
giggling girls
in bikinis and curls
with their Summer Sunbodies
on show
© Kait King, 2015

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
He rolled her up
in the carpet
He tied her up
real tight
He threw her into
the trunk of
his car
And screeched out
into the night
He knows he must not
draw attention
He must slow down his breath
and calm
He drove around
for hours
With her body
in the back of
his car
Delusional or clear
of mind
It really didn’t
matter
He was clear enough
to clean up
the mess
And removed
all of her blood
he splattered
He contemplated water
He thought about the dump
He thought about a mountain top
He could make it look like
she jumped
As dawn approached,
a screaming light
His stomach started
to rumble
So he drove her through
the drive thru
And didn’t miss a beat
or fumble
A steady hand
held out dollar bills
But his eyes he kept downcast
Not a thought spared for
his wife in the trunk
The love that didn’t last
© Kait King, 2015

Life looks
pretty bleak
If you’re a resistant
control freak
Nothing ever goes
as it’s s’posed to
See it’s up to the Universe
if it chose to
Nothing lasts forever
You’ll never be that clever
To beat the hand of Fate
Before you choose
and it’s way too late
Nothing ever
stays the same
You shouldn’t be
afraid of change
If you dig your toes in
and won’t budge
Or if you stay angry,
hold a grudge
Life looks pretty bleak
If you’re a control freak
I would imagine
intense anxiety
when you can’t make things
as you want them to be
And an obsessive,
over-busy mind
That’s never easy
to unwind
So you find something else
to get it fixed
But now –
you look drugged…
Not happy,
in those pics
© Kait King, 2016

When I was a kid I grew up in a place called Somerset West in South Africa. It was beautiful and I have amazing memories living there with all of the beautifully changing landscapes and incredible wildlife. I used to go to school with a chameleon or a tobacco roller snake curled up in my pocket. I lived, breathed and ate horses (I always hated that saying – I would die before I ate a horse)…maybe…anyway, I was a happy-go-lucky kid. My parents were wonderfully social butterflies, having many dinners and do’s that were amazing. I would sneak downstairs and take a look at all the beautiful people and listen to their laughter and tinkling cutlery. My mother would let me have dessert upstairs while I watched TV way later than what I was supposed to. I had the dogs and cat crowded up in the den and kept hoping that I would be forgotten and could stay here, just like this, always.
Well that didn’t happen and life trundled on – I must have been about 14 or 15 years old and had my first boyfriend. My parents were out one night and so my boyfriend Mike, and I were over at my friends’ house across the road. Before we left we made sure the dogs were not able to get into the lounge, a light on the front porch was left on for when we came back and everything was locked up.
So we had a fun night with our friends’ and decided it was time to head back – my parents would be home soon and Mike had to go home too. We walked hand in hand down the long dark driveway and headed across the road. My house was lit up like a birthday cake. Every light in the house was on. Mike and I stopped dead in our tracks with our mouths open. I went to hurry forward and Mike held me back. We approached with more caution. The front door was also open…and all of the windows. We were terrified but for some reason instead of going back to my friends’ house we kept going towards mine. Mike pushed the front door open and we slowly went in – I was hanging on to Mike for dear life! Everything was super bright with every single light turned on, the guest toilet lights, the reading lamps beside the beds and the main lights…what the hell was going on? What was really weird is that the dogs were bailed into a corner in the kitchen. Not even where their beds were but squashed under the breakfast table. Now we had a Great Dane (Cleo), a Labrador (Lottie) and a Bouvier des Flanders crossed with an English Sheepdog, (Charlie). These were not little dogs or scaredy-cat dogs for that matter, yet they were cowering and terrified of coming out when Mike and I went in. Usually they were delighted to see us and went crazy even if we had only been gone for twenty minutes. The cat, Fluffy-bum, was nowhere to be seen either.
Mike and I scoured the house and turned off the lights and closed the windows – man, we were creeped out. Mike had to go so I reluctantly saw him off and kept the dogs close. I made sure I locked the front door behind me and checked the downstairs windows with a trail of pets behind me. While I wandered around the house trying to feel safe, yet believing I may be locking something in with me rather than keeping something out.
Suddenly I could smell something burning. I poked my nose outside to find out if there was a bush fire somewhere but I could only smell the delicately cloying Wisteria and Jasmine that threaded the hedge. I hurriedly retraced my steps, the dogs got in the way of course and I stumbled over them several times in my hurry. I couldn’t find anything that was turned on now – I had turned it all off! I checked the power outlets all around and unplugged anything that wasn’t being used but nothing was melted or smelt as if it was burning. I checked the oven, the laundry where the iron was – nothing, not a heated thing. I went into the den and turned on the TV. Lottie, Cleo and Charlie followed me in and clambered onto the sofa with me. Fluffy-bum had turned up and wiggled her way in amongst all of the dogginess. I wondered when Mum and Dad would be home, I hoped soon…
Next to the sofa was an old cane rocking chair and foot stool that would now and again crack due to the change in temperature so that was nothing new. But y’know how cats suddenly stop doing what they are doing and just stare at something you know is not human and may be a ghost or something like that. But you don’t want to believe it when it’s in your own lounge. So Fluffy-bum is washing herself, and the dogs’ faces in between their fluttering lip snores and does this petrified statue thing, looking at the old cane rocking chair. It cracks and I think nothing of it. Something has changed, the snoring has stopped and all three dogs are awake, lying there with their eyes open but they had not picked up their heads. That was really strange – they leapt up at anything in a race to meet it, greet it or eat it.
The cane chair cracked some more and then became regular as the chair started tipping back and forth, rocking… I shot straight off the sofa – cat and dogs flying. Something had changed in me – I was fed up with this torturous unknowing. I stormed over to the lounge door – ripped it open and yelled over my shoulder, “GET OUT! YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE – GET OUT!” and carried on like a tornado to the front door – ripped that one open, after I fumbled around unlocking it and yelled the same thing behind me. I stopped in my tracks as I felt something move and shift in the atmosphere.
“I’m sorry…” I whispered, “I’m scared of you, I don’t know who you are but I don’t want you here. You need to go to the light, just go…” and I closed the front door. I walked back into the lounge, I felt shattered but hugely relieved. I looked towards the welcoming sofa where Lottie, Charlie, Cleo and Fluffy-bum sat waiting. They looked relaxed and content. I plonked myself down and Fluffy-bum came over, she looked up at me and closed her beautiful green eyes in a smile of thanks and curled up on my lap after a couple of raspy kisses on my hand. Somebody released some of their dogginess and we were almost back to normal. I heard Mum and Dad’s purring car and saw the headlights sweep over the windows in a comforting light – wondering if whomever I had chased out of our house felt as comforted as I did right now, I really hoped so.

I’m uncomfortably present
awkwardly, I’m here
Cleverly, you’ve trapped me
by playing on my fear
I don’t want to say yes
but something in me is sparked
and if I don’t say yes
I won’t have a heart
you’ll say to me
You’ll say to me
I don’t really love you
that I’m not really into it
and my love is not true
And yet that twist inside me
coils like a snake
ready to make me feel bad
making me ready to hate
myself
© Kait King, 2015

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

I see
the lonely landscape
of an empty soul
Someone incomplete
Someone who’s not whole
It doesn’t take another person
to make you feel as one
You must just believe in yourself
and something to enhance you
will come
© Kait King, 2015

I cry
I cry and I cry
for what I am not
What I am perceived as
is not what they got
I grieve
I break and bend
for what has a future
that already knows the end?
© Kait King, 2015

What’s the difference
when it’s all the same
we go down this road
and come back again
Forgiven you, I haven’t
when it’s caused me
all this pain
and if you try to find me
I’ll fall back into you
again
© Kait King, 2015
- As a writer, if you don’t suffer empathy, then you really will only ever write for yourself…

It’s funny
how I think
of you
So randomly –
So out of
The blue
It’s crazy
After all this time
It’s been decades
Since
you were mine
© Kait King, 2016

When you’re hanging by a thread
and the voices in your head
say “just let go”
When you feel torn and down
you try to take a look around
but find
you’re blind
And the time is running out
and you know what it’s about
you can feel that hanging rope
that blade against your throat
and you lean on in….
© Kait King, 2015
If you can allow yourself
to love me baby
I’ll hold you, rock you,
Love you through every night
If you’re not scared to
show me baby
I’ll do my very best to make it
all right
But I feel you haven’t
let go baby
And it’s not really all
about me
You have to let your feelings
show baby
You have to love me or let me
be free
© Kait King, 2015

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

So this is it
I mean nothing to you
I no longer exist in your world
There is no contact number for me
In your cellphone
anymore…
Kait King © 2015

When I write
every word is like
a finely crafted feather
particles of a winged voice
To uplift imagination
poor soothe upon torment
A flight path
mind’s destination to dream
picture perfect characters
who they are
where they belong
where you fit in
Nestled tight
keep out cold
turn against the winds of ice
water falling crashing calling
the feather nestled tight
let your imagination take flight
with these words I write
© Kait King, 2015

Lash me to you
bind me
with your love
string me along with
the world’s largest ball of twine
that’s fine
Wrap me in your arms
swaddle me in your dreams
Take me further than
the ends of our Earth
As far as that may seem
© Kait King, 2015

If you are able to correct something
that is harmfully wrong ~
Then it must be done.
© Kait King, 2015

Mum says
they’re just jealous!
But it doesn’t
stop them
from treating me
like dirt
The teachers say
just stay away
which is easy
if I was invisible
or didn’t mind
getting hurt
© Kait King, 2015

Tripping
spilling
falling
dropping
words come tumbling out
Hedonistic
realistic
possibly artistic
like chocolate for my mind
are the words from my soul
replete
resplendent
and resonate
to make me feel whole
© Kait King, 2017
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.