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

Gods

imagesGods

Are there many?

Or are there none?

Will I know

before I’m done?

Are they angry?

Mean and unkind?

Or gentle and understanding

with a heart much bigger

than mine?

If I don’t obey,

they tell

I’ll be going

straight to Hell

My god has not

that human spite

he’s not angry,

vengeful or

serial killer smite-like

And perhaps I am

uncertain

just a little unsure

But my god knows

that I believe

and I know there’s so much more…

Kait King 25/07/2018

 

 

 

It’s Just Life

it's just life

I am lying

on my bed

it’s too hot

and the TV’s

too loud

Yet the noisiest

thing

is you

in my head

I can hear

the washing machine

beeping and

beeping endlessly

WTF is wrong

with those things?!

I know I should

eat something

but

I truly can’t be

bothered

it’s just

food

it’s just

money

it’s just

love

it’s just

life…

© Kait King, 2016

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

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

The Sink Hole

I will not be labeled

As damaged or disabled

I won’t let myself think

I’ll just go down like

Water gurgling in a sink

I try to envision my life

With more purpose

Than “useless”

Sometimes this is

An exercise

Quite fruitless

I won’t slide down

That gurgling sink

And I know that’s what

A lot of people

Think

But I’ve proved them

Wrong before

Not just once

But even more

I won’t quietly go down

That gurgling sink

I have more words

To say

More words

I must ink

I’m not here

To kick up a stink

I just want to make

More people think

Before I go down

That gurgling sink

Kait King 12th July 2019

A present for a poo – for doggie lovers

It doesn’t matter what you do

chew up my panties

leave a present that’s a poo

bury personal items

dig a deeper hole

drag cow dung inside

pee on the stripper pole

rip up the newspaper

before it’s even read

take up most of the room

in my double bed

chew a cavern in the chair

bark at things that are not there

but I’d like to make it very clear –

There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you

even though I’m only worth a poo

I really, really do love you 🙂

(Just to make things clear, I’m talking about a dog, not my man!)

© Kait King, 2015