
Time
leapt away
from me…
It left me
behind,
behind some
enemy line…
Time
jumped
like a rabbit
down a dark hole…
skittishly aware
of the scar
on my Soul
© Kait King, 2016

Time
leapt away
from me…
It left me
behind,
behind some
enemy line…
Time
jumped
like a rabbit
down a dark hole…
skittishly aware
of the scar
on my Soul
© Kait King, 2016

Tiny and Tinier 2014
A cove
a sparrow’s trove
of palely speckled eggs
a fluff of feathers
incompetent wings
and skinny wobbly legs
A dangerous night
or maybe it’s two
you spend upon the ground
all alone
but then the sun comes up
and warms your spirit
and you fly yourself off home
© Kait King, 2015

1. Just because he remembers that you like the mint centered chocolates from a box of Roses because of the tantrum you threw when he attempted to eat one the first time but not the only time since you ate chocolates together 7 months ago, doesn’t make him a mind reader…
With a delicate stillness
and a quiet noise
with porcelain perfection
and perfect China poise
the body is supine
lying dead on the floor
supine in exsanguination
a choice to become Death’s whore
Ruby red your favourite colour
you wear it very well
although I won’t see you out much
a story we will tell
Did you get off scot-free?
Did you truly escape?
Or will you have to pay your dues
and return to this landscape…
© Kait King, 2015

At lunch today
I fell a little more
in love with you
Your smile grazes the
inside of my heart with
such passion
At lunch today
your blue eyes brighter
for seeing me
Sparkling over
sparkling water
with just a hint
of lemon
that cannot sour
our chemistry
At lunch today
while I watched you
talk
I followed your lips
watched your mouth
heard nothing
and thought just
about kissing
I love having
Lunch with you
© Kait King, 2017
I walk down the aisle
my eyes passing over cards
words 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

I come home
the cat’s at my feet
kids are crying
but there’s nothing made to eat
It’s a hard day at work
with paper knee deep
and the heater’s broken
so I can’t get to sleep
Yet another day comes
we follow like sheep
I can’t find the faith
to make that big leap
I know I shouldn’t take it in
so very, very deep
But it seems to be sort of extra hard
when you aren’t someone who cheats
© Kait King, 2015
I just want you to know
that you are not alone
I know it sounds empty –
we can’t talk
I can’t hug you
I can’t invite you into my home
But I need you to know
that there is someone out there
someone who also feels the same
is sick of the same game
and shares the same fears
If I can make you understand
this is not what defines you
but the choices you make
from this day forward
even when you don’t know
what to do
© Kait King, 2015

warped, crippled
twisted and blackened
my monsters will be set free
decrepit, decayed,
barren of soul
sit here or there
and all will see
Damaged, Dangerous,
Dark and Fright
my monsters travel day or night
bad dreams,
bad thoughts,
dark dreams,
No light –
not all is as it seems
with knuckle-bite fright….
© Kait King, 2015

With drifting tendrils
of Spring
Summer curls her way
into
places
where shadows
hang around
with a Wintery gruffness
A warmth travels –
infrequently
flying through
the trees and grasses
with just a tease
of what’s to come
Sky of blue and spring rains fall
the fluttering tweets
and grassy delights of the
new nesting families hurrying along
Spring’s lazy gait
© Kait King, 2016

The first time
it wasn’t that much
fun
before I got
my panties off
he was already
done…
© Kait King, 2015
There’s just no stopping
a speeding bullet
straight to the heart
With no clanking armour
or a bullet-proof vest
so it rips you apart
There’s just no way
to make it unscathed
through the day
with no love and no hope
no string to cling to
No reason to stay
© Kait King, 2015
Love flutters
like a drowning butterfly,
swallowed up
whole –
Struggling to keep my
head above the
ripples of your heart
Yet still wanting to be
hopelessly – no,
recklessly
flung into those depths
drowning…
drowning…
Kait King

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

“I have to find the darker side of myself when I write as the killer – I think it’s the Gemini in me….”
© Kait King, 2015

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…

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

Good poetry is knowing when to stop the rhyme
Whether it’s two or two hundred
and twenty-two lines
© Kait King, 2015

I didn’t die
I’ve just upgraded ….
© 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.
Ashes to ashes
dust to dust
Love won’t last forever
anchored only in lust
Kisses for kisses
I forgive you your past
it’s the only way through
If you want us to last
© 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
9. Don’t write for writing’s sake

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

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

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.

The grass squeaks
beneath my feets
Cold steals well into
my bones
Chilly cows in
frosty fields
complain in
mooing moans
The sun is
shining watery bright
glistening drips from
my watery nose
In the shade
of the rock garden
lies a frosty
useless hose
The dogs’ little
paws
hardly leave
a mark
It’s beautiful but
not my favourite time
I have Summer
in my heart
© Kait King, 2016

She married him
when she was 23
and he was 37
She thought she’d met
Prince Charming
and he thought he’d gone
to Heaven
It didn’t take long tho’
for him to change
his song
And feel like he
was imprisoned
It happened so fast,
turned life on its arse –
she fell undeniably
and beautifully pregnant
She had her baby alone
while he drank and whored
in their home
No, it hadn’t been long
he was just bored
and it was just wrong
He had already been here
twice in his life
He had other children
and more than one wife
So with dignity
and as a lady
she took nothing
with her
just her baby
She didn’t want half
of the furniture
or a share of
the bling
She knew
she had kept
the most important thing
© Kait King, 2015

Howick 2013
When I sing
I feel this thing
all of my body cells
join
the vibration
When my voice
comes out
and I sing of things
I care about
I feel pure elation
When my body
can’t hep but
move
As I sway and sing
the groove
This here,
this is my perfect situation
© Kait King, 2016
Understanding the Predator – Desire
Previously I discussed the behavior of the pedophile. Now I’d like to address the desire that spurns the predator into scarring our children.
Take, for example, the standard human relationship of a male and a female, or homosexual relationships as well, the straight adult male seeks a woman with say, an hourglass figure, long hair, big boobs, and maybe a small butt. Or what about a homosexual male relationship? He may, for example, be looking for someone who is tall, bulky and muscular or perhaps for someone who has an athletic build. Regardless of their sexuality, the desire to be with someone is created normally, from attraction to the adult physique – the physical is what attracts us all initially in the realm of adult relationships.
The first thing we are attracted to is what we see. That has been the norm since forever. As a woman I desire certain physical male attributes – I want a hairy chest and armpits, I like my man to be strong – have strong arms and chest, I like it that he pads around my house like a big cat – these are desirable physical attributes to me, as a straight female. We are talking purely physical attraction/desire so please keep this in mind. Straight men will have other triggers, which I’m sure we are all familiar with, like when she bends over, the way she flicks her hair back, her boobs when they squish together when she bends over, when she bends over…you know the drill! 😉
Anyway, let us assess what a paedophile must see as desirable in a child. Babies, toddlers, preschoolers, primary school kids,pre-teens – the majority of these age groups do not have a shapely figure and no breasts, no butt, no adult conversation. So is the pedophile attracted to those little cute, pudgy bodies, plump little cheeks and wispy head of hair etc? Physical attraction is what first triggers that desire, right?
What about those individuals who claim it is about control. Is it really about being socially awkward and being unable to talk to a grown woman/man? Is it then that every paedophile suffers with Asperger’s or Autism of some kind? Why don’t other socially awkward people become pedophiles then? I think it’s because it is not about control but about attraction – same principal as in the first part of Phase 1 – you cannot counsel, medicate, talk or religion me out of my sexuality – it is innate and this is why a paedophile cannot be rehabilitated.
All they will learn to do is hide their sexuality better, they will learn to be better skilled at obtaining silence from their victim/s, they will become better at saying what the professionals need to hear to let them back out into our communities. It’s a fault, it’s not fixable, you cannot rehabilitate away an individual’s sexual preference. It is that simple. The 35c solution is that simple. Parents and families who have lost kids to pedophiles, both spiritually and in life, also know it’s that simple.
Is what we have been doing so far working for us? Are our kids safe?