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

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

Oh I Didn’t See You There…

Oh I didn't

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 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

And there he was…

Jay n me on beach newcastle june2016 2

It hadn’t been a long time – only a matter of months, you could count them in days if you had to. But it felt like centuries. I missed my boy – he was loud and large in my little cottage, but now everything seems too large, too empty and way too quiet!

So landing in Sydney I couldn’t wait to see him and get a giant bear hug – his hugs are the only ones that are like that for me. It’s something very definable, tangible. Anyone else could give me a giant hug but they will never measure up to my son’s loving arms. I have never been a “clasp-hugger”, y’know, brief – per-functionary. There is no point in displaying affection if you don’t mean it. So yes, maybe he has only known how to hug like that – I love that about him. A helluva lot can be said in a hug. And hugging my son at the airport for the first time in ages was like a relief almost…a sigh of thank you Universe – he really is all good! He looked and felt healthy, his hair had grown even longer and his smile beamed across the crowd of anxious collectors. He stood out as if he was the only one in colour and everyone else was black and white.

I know I maybe could be describing everything else – and I’m sure it will come out, but my holiday was really about filling up my soul as a Mum. Spending time with that beautiful little spirit I had nursed, guided and shoved into this lovely young man in front of me, that I am so proud to call My Son.

What’s wrong with you

mary bell

Mary Bell what the hell

at ten was inside your head?

To choke a little boy of 3

until he’s stone cold dead

And then to carve your name in him

the initials MB in his chest

Did you want everyone to know

that this work was your best?

I know your mother was a prostitute

and she did terrible things to you

And is she the one responsible

for making you into you?

Others have an even sadder tale

and are left with deep scars too

but others haven’t needed to kill

or do the things you do.

© Kait King, 2015

She is nothing like me

Nothing like me

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…

Were you ever really here?

Dad in the middle - Holland

Sometimes I wonder if you were

ever really here

Somehow I know what’s true

when you were always there

But as life returns back

to a more even keel

I can’t help this wonderment

this dreamlike existence I feel

You are gone yet you remain

and as the world lazily spins on the same

those 70’s and 80’s – a very different look

maybe just a new chapter in my new story book

As you are not really gone

I will sing your same old song

And I will die at my age and my son

will turn the next blank page

© Kait King, 2015

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 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

“Let it go, Michael!”

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

If you want to

if u want to

I have a notion

that your emotion

is not just a session

of dark depression

but a mark on your heart

like a bite from a shark

missing pieces never found

and this is why you’ve gone to ground

I can guess

you don’t see this as a test

but an evil calculation

to distract you from your destination

A calculated move

to jig you outta your groove

But the world is not against you

just try on the other shoe

it’s not that hard to do

and if you walk a decent mile

you might cry but you might smile

ain’t it worth it in the end

if you find you’re your best friend

So don’t knock yourself so hard

you’re not stupid or a retard

We are all given different gifts

And as we live our outlook shifts

from continental rifts

to continental drifts

we figure it’s not just about ourselves

that there are no Christmas elves

and that you need to really care

for everything

if you want to get along here

© Kait King, 2015

University Sleep

University sleep

It’s time for me to close my eyes

the sleep – she calls me in

tempting me with promises

of dreams from deep within

Happy to drown in fluid darkness

my lungs relaxed and full

spiralling soft, my body jumps

but still I feel the pull

And so I slumber deep and long

my dreams are all but lost

as I pull myself up from this sleep

to be chilled by morning’s frost

My bed, it lies like a crumpled body

it’s death, by noose, my sheets

I pull on my jeans, headphones on

and head into the streets

The bus stop frozen from icy glares

the wind a second best

We glide and jerk through glistening streets

I know I’m not a guest

My homework lies upon my lap

I want to turn around and go back home

Even my music has lost it’s colour

and bleeds into a drone

We fall out of the bus in an untidy crowd

the Subway reeks of cheese

I feel broken and somewhat heavy

Would they notice if I fell on my knees

My iPod turns into my lecturer

and continues in a monotonous tone

My brain has surpassed this walled in campus

I fall back into my cool dream zone

My liveliness is so inspired by friends of sweet love and sweet dreams

this shining light of laughing free

and left splitting at the seams

We say adiós and walk away

our paths cross again tomorrow

I find myself doubting myself

is this the path that I should follow?

I stand in the queue, the bus pulls up

we file in like a production line

stamped and paid and sit if you’re lucky

the sun’s shining and every thing’s fine

I walk briskly home, it’s getting dark

I walk in tune with a song

And wonder at ideologies like…

why can’t we all get along?

It’s warmer inside and my little friend

turns himself inside out to see me

I talk, I eat, I study hard just to go back

to be soft, warm and dreamy

© Kait King, 2015

You’ll say to me

You say to me

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