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

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If I could…

if i could

If I could cut out your

heart

This is how it would

feel

And the music will tell

you

How come it’s so

real

If I could cry with your

eyes

This is how it would

feel

And the words that I

sing

Is how come it’s so

real

© Kait King, 2015

I’ve chosen not to

i've chosen not to

I’ve chosen not to wear my grief and despair

like shards of broken glass or snapped razor blades

on my less-than-me person

I’ve chosen not to hurt others although my pain has

an enormous capacity for imagination or

is that fantasist?

Dissociation, dissonance, disappointment –

I can use it to carve my poor heart a poorer shape

Should I?

I’ve chosen not to

This pain would hurt less

but I don’t need for others to feel

I would rather shelter and protect

Keep safe and trapped those imaginary

demons – who will come to hover like eye-poking

vultures in their scruffiness as I lie here

in the night

Keeping that evil, seeping, energy-sucking

succubus of hurt from me

Arms length – keeping strength

and land stretches towards me

the sand and sea – it pulls away

living is movement not breathing

and earth ties me to a life of dirt

Sunshine and lollipops –

a distraction

merely a time-waster

ball-breaker, man-hater, life-taker

I’ve chosen not to…

© Kait King, 2015

Andy’s Addiction

Andy's addiction

Andy has a problem

he doesn’t know what to do

there’s a monkey glued to his back

and it’s really chewing through

his heart,

his bank account,

his tired soul

Andy has a problem

he doesn’t know how to say

that he doesn’t want to be here

not for another single day

of hurt,

of frustration,

in an angered mind

Andy knows this problem

he knows what he should do

but it wraps him up and chokes him

and he can’t see his way through

another single day

with no way

to feel

Andy can’t reach out for help

that would just mean pain

How can he reach out for help

when his hand is trapped

by shame

and addiction

and fear

© Kait King, 2015

Home time!

hometime

When I wake up

next to you

My heart just

wants to burst

In my sleep

I miss you

Like a screaming

blazing thirst

I drag myself

to work and back

just to see your smile

watch TV

talk a little

and make love for a while

when our rumbling

hungry stomachs

lever us out of our lovers’ nook

naked we open and close cupboards

looking for something to cook

© Kait King, 2015

A Seeker

A seeker

I don’t want to be here

I don’t want to be here alone

I don’t want to be here alone in my empty zone

I want to love

I want to love again

I want to love again and be free of all this pain

I can’t do it

I can’t just let it go

I can’t just let it go and pretend I didn’t know

My soul aches

My soul and my heart ache badly

They ache for man’s cruel inhumanity

I’m a seeker

I’m a seeker of love, peace and harmony

I’m a seeker – please tell me you’ll follow me

© Kait King, 2015

His broken heart is hid

his broken heart is hid

Life suspended in a web-like hammock

the coffee smell not as nostril-curling as in the past

a homeless man stumbles along wet walks

dragging his sorry arse along the splinter lit streets

a reflection a sad life in a hard city,

his city a place where he lost his wife and his job,

a home, his family

where he nearly took his own

when things were darker than ebony

and he had to walk his walk alone

A bunch of aggro school kids

too brash and way too loud

disrespect his foul figure on the skids

he had no room to be proud

He seeks a place that’s dry

it won’t be warm,

he knows a place where he can cry

and his aching tears won’t show

© Kait King, 2015