The Master

kaitkingpromo

I’m not the hero

I used to be

but I’ve mastered

the art of

Insanity

© Kait King, 2015

A lighter model….

I didnt die

I didn’t die

I’ve just upgraded ….

© Kait King, 2015

The Hysteraunt

the Hystaurant 1

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

Crush

Crush

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

All the ink

all the ink

There is no other way to write

the truth spills from the soul

an eager hand and frenzied mind

I scribble out my fill

The scratching on the paper

the lead shines the ink glows

what I will write next

I don’t even know

but the truth is how it is easy

to tell what must be said

and there is an urgency in this

as one day we are dead

My fingers ache at times

as I just can’t seem to stop this flow

of words into lines a cadence reached –a drop

The wonder in me wonders

I speak it loud and often think

If I keep on writing like this

Will there be enough ink?

© Kait King, 2015

Summer Sunb0dies

summersunbodies

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

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

“Let it go, Michael!”



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

But I’ve already paid!

Already paid

With some leftover tea

I chuck some painkillers at me

A certain kind of guilt and

a definitive disgust wash over me

I fight every day

to keep a smile on my face

being strong, overcome

I have a new life to embrace

I know this is not what

I signed up for

I’ve paid the full price

for so much more

But I guess some you win

and some you lose

So I experience my life

in a different pair of shoes

But I’m still so sure

I was destined for so much more

so much more

I’ve already paid for

© Kait King, 2015

It’s amazeballs being a Gemini – I can argue with myself and always win :) © Kait King, 2015

Gemini amazeballs

After the Fact

After the Fact

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

Daily grind of a good guy

Daily grind

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

And you’re still here …

still here

You look at me

with such

tranquility

I believe perfection

sits here with us

I look at you

with such

admiration

to have entertained me enough

to still sit here

with me

© Kait King, 2016

Crazy Horse

Crazy horse

A young man stood in front of me. Slightly overweight with a bad crew cut. His left arm was heavily bandaged. He held it out to me like an offering – a kind gesture.

“What happened to you?” I asked. He dipped his head shyly and poked a toe at the grubby, coffee-stained carpet.

“It’s a long story.” He mumbled, “I was in love with a girl. I loved her for a really long time.”

His eyes flashed up briefly to catch mine. Glancing up to the right and back to the floor he continued.

“We always walked to school together – I was, I guess, obsessed with her.” I could see another flicker in his eyes, but of hesitation or clutching at a memory. “I bought her flowers and chocolates, wrote her cards and love letters. For a long time…” he trailed off.

“How long?”

“I dunno…” He scrunched his face up as if he was in pain, then breathed out, “Six years, three months, one week and four days.” And obviously still counting, alarmingly!

“That’s a long time to love someone.” I said.

It’s a long time to love someone if they don’t love you back.” He said, looking directly at me – scrutinizing my reaction.

“So why did you keep writing and giving to her?”

I thought she would love me if I could show her how much I loved her. I thought I could have her. She would be mine – but she left. She came up here, to the big smoke. She got a job, and apartment, new friends – a whole life of her own. What she didn’t realise was that she was my life. So I came to live here too. Then I followed her from her work one day. Just pretended I was in the area and had bumped into her, random like. That was not a very good thing to do – she got really mad and told me to leave…to leave her alone.” He stopped, rubbed his good arm across his eyes and sighed.

“That’s when I got this really cool idea!” His face lit up with his remembered ingenuity. “See, I read in a book somewhere that Van Gough had cut his ear off and sent it to the love of his life. So I thought to myself that I would prove how much I loved her – I would send her my arm. That’s bigger than an ear – it must mean more! So the next day I go to work and do my job. When I thought everyone had gone home, I turned my skill-saw back on and tried to cut my arm off.” He swallows a gulp of air and grins at me crazily.

“Geez, didn’t that hurt?” I ask.

“That’s why I stopped!” he laughs. “I pushed my arm onto the saw and it sliced quickly -which was my intention. Blood pissed everywhere – it quickly got through the bones before I had a chance to pull back and well….it was just kind of hanging off and that’s when I thought to myself; Shit, what the hell am I doing – this hurts! What a mess too. I would’ve died too , I suppose, if the other guy hadn’t heard me screaming before I passed out.”

© Kait King, 2015

Slowly Summer

Spring into Summer

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

Trust me

Trust me

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

Writer’s Blogk: Observation 1

  1. As a writer, if you don’t suffer empathy, then you really will only ever write for yourself…

It’s Funny

It's funny

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

Sword of Damacles

Sword of Damacles

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

Having the Freedom to

i-dont-want-to

I don’t want to just

be friends any more

If you’re not going to try

I can show you the door

I’m not very good at

laying the blame

I don’t want to play

that dangerous game

I just about burst

when all I want to say

when I look into your blue eyes

is “I love you” every day

I just want us both to

be allowed to be free

for me to be in love with you

and you

crazy in love with me

Kait King 2017

The writer’s blogk: Observation 9

9. Don’t write for writing’s sake

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

You know it’s over when…

u kno its over wen

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

when i write

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

When you let me in

beautiful-immortal-vampires-eternal-lovers

When we are

touching skin

when you have

let me in

With a dream-like

essence

I feel your

presence

the heat from

your skin

when you let me in

I know there

are no lies

I can see it

in your blue eyes

I can feel it

from your mouth

I can hear it in

your blazing skin

when you let me in

the goose bumps on

your flesh

and our kiss

can only express

we are so lost

it must be a sin

but only when

you let me in

© Kait King, 2015

Crime of Passion

Nils_Dardel_Crime_passionnel

I wonder what my reaction

would be

if I came home and had

to see

you with someone that was

not me?

Would I stay or

would I flee?

The four stages

of shock

when you find someone else

locked

on the end of your man’s

cock

and you need a loaded

Glock

So do you stand quietly

by the door

do you want to

watch some more

or

do you want to scream at her

she’s a whore

or collapse on

the floor or

walk out?

Do you do it all

real calmly

like you don’t really

want it to be

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Would you please explain to me?”(tearfully)

That would be nice

but it’s not me

This is more

my reality

“I’m gonna kill the both of you for free!”

“How could you do this to me?” (insanely)

But a gun wouldn’t leave me

in doubt…

© Kait King, 2015

Suffocate me

Suffocate me

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

Dude you need a Tic Tac!

squirrel kiss kitten

If you are able to correct something

that is harmfully wrong ~

Then it must be done.

© Kait King, 2015

Chocolate for my Mind

Chocolate for mymind

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

What can we do about child abuse? Phase One – Sexual

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.

My Mama Says

jealous_love_by_kimded-d2yttnr

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

The Writers’ Blogk: Observation 4

  1. Integrity is everything and open-mindedness is anything when you write, whether for yourself or for the masses.

A Bad Combination

bad combo

That’s a bad combination

A Lover who’s a Man

It doesn’t matter,

you see

’cause he’ll take it

if it’s free

Yeah…that’s a

bad combination

a Lover

who’s a Man

© Kait King, 2015

Summer in my Heart

summer in my heart

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

The Most Important Thing

THe most important thing racoon

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

Letmeout!

My eyes feel

like I’ve rolled them in salt

My brain

just won’t let me sleep

I go through the stories

in my head –

blaming myself and

at fault

No one else

sees me like that

although they often find

the broken me

I’m not that hard

to interpret

My body stops me

being free

and my brain won’t

even let it

© Kait King, 2015

Oh I Didn’t See You There…

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

A Tortured Soul

Tortured soul

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

Child Abuse: Phase Two…from behaviour to desire

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?