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

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

I place the brain in its’ skull….

Place brain in skull

When I finally find my rhythm and I am the one eager to push forward. When I can’t help but mould and mash a character of no charm, or carefully fine tune a delicate life, an angry spirit, that tortured soul….nothing can stop me. Time is of zero meaning or consequence. Food and water are not necessities, they are interruptions – as is anything else that must drag me from my Frankensteinian stupor. My frenzied, impassioned creation can sometimes make me feel overwhelmingly powerful or incredibly tiny as I realise how childlike my perception might be…or is it drama queen stuff? Not naivete…surely….not another avenue to explore…surely. Let me write it out of me in some shape or form so I can recognise it in some shape or form, not just a passing thought….a forgotten idea, feeling…story. Place the electrodes and blast it into the light, out to the night, encompassed in fright…write, write, write

© Kait King, 2015

We love you Mum

we love you mum

And we have to say

It’s not fair you only get one day

When every second of every minute

We thank the Universe for putting you in it

There are not enough words

In any language spoken

All we have is a small token

Of our love to give

Reflected in the life we live

We’d tell you every single day

How much we love you in every way

Without you, we’d be nothing

Without your love, we’d not survive

Without your grace, care and kindness

We’d be born another child

So we thank you Mum

We are grateful for who we are

The equal sum of you and Dad

Have made us who we are

© Kait King, 2015

sigh….

sigh

Sometimes I stare blankly at my computer screen, it gives me nothing back and I have nothing in my head. Yet it feels like something is very close…all I have to do is start. Just start somewhere…even if it’s exactly what is in my head – like “sigh”… They say writing is a discipline and this is very true for me. Even though once I’m actually writing I’m sucked into the void, it is sometimes a struggle to start. I love writing and get lost in the whirlwind of it all, and then wonder – why am I so resistant at times? Am I worried my words will get used up? I won’t have anything to write? And I have to mentally slap myself on the wrist – how shallow I am to think I would have experienced and felt everything there is to feel and experience so I could write about it.

The world and universe are far greater than the capacity my brain has to understand all things. I really am but a grain of sand in the big picture of things. We all are – but grains of sand make stunning beaches and pieces of paradise when put together….I wonder if there is something we should be learning from this? And who would’ve thought that a mere grain of sand on its’ own also had the power to change perspectives. That paradise beach is not so out of reach for the human race – if only we all stuck together to keep paradise a paradise…

Does Anyone Ever

Does anyone ever

Does anyone else

ever feel

That this world

isn’t real?

That you know

you don’t belong

Perhaps the ‘Big Guy’

got it wrong

This is not

where you’re meant

to be

Running on the

hamster wheel –

trapped

and not free

Do you ever

think to yourself:

“I am the ostracized alien

I am the one

who doesn’t

fit in!”

And decide to make

a concerted effort

But remain

disappointed

So you retreat

and think,

“Fuck it”

© Kait King, 2016