stanley pedigree ~ groove merchants

<p><a href=”″>Stanley Pedigree – Groove Merchants OFFICIAL MV</a> from <a href=””>Stanley Pedigree</a> on <a href=””>Vimeo</a&gt;.</p>

stanley pedigree ~ groove merchants 2019


making me a new lane …

#bnw #portrait #pieces


it, then, them, us, yours, ours, hers, his, togethers, whens, whys, whoms & all the other(s) shit.

kpm © : ig @kpm-artist


duly noted:

some people ‘hide’ in the shelter of an institution.

no different than me hiding @ the beach.

i think my location is better though.


kpm ©



i’m just tired.

kpm ©



still a bit broken today … but

boom : i made 47 orbits bitches !

kpm © : ig @kpm-artist



floating in a sea of seemingly disingenuous shit.

is anything.

is anyone.

actually fucking real anymore.

kpm ©



move ya body ~ nina sky

move ya body ~ nina sky, 2004


photography .205

#aotearoa #kingfisher #nature #photography #kpm©

kpm © : ig @kpm-artist



drag culture.

i like it. not exactly sure why. probs has got something to do with the freedom of expression … but yeah …

so, yesterday i watched ‘paris is burning’ & i had quite a profound ‘Me’ revelation, as i do.

” unfold: ”

i was a teenager in the 80s. yes thats right, i’m an old fuck.

but i was a brown, ‘poor’, daughter of a christian single mother. layers of irony right there. & i found that christianity had no place for queer culture. no place for maori culture. no place for women. no place for me. no place for difference.

especially in the 80s.

i was raised in layers of confusion.

‘they’ weren’t confused. they believed their own bullshit.

i questioned it. i questioned the hypocrisy. i questioned the genuine-ness of it all. i questioned where ‘god’ was in their reality of christianity.

but i had no time to question my own sexual identity. especially layered on up-teenth sexual assault ‘issues’. & christianity had no place for any of that. there was only one right way to do sexual identity and that was at home in the bedroom with your ‘husband’ – if you were a biological woman anyways.

by default, my ‘rebellion’ came in the form of what i ‘looked like’. & that was a brown vagina.

i learned my culture was ‘wrong & uncivilised savagery’. & my ‘gender’ was just above that.

so i embraced as much as i could of the hip hop dance & music scene at the time. but it had to be smooshed with a tonne of ‘christain explanation’ to be applicable or tolerated in my world.

meaning? if it was for ‘out reach’ or winning damned brown souls from their misery, then it was semi-acceptable.

but drag culture? or homosexuality?

fuck No. there was no learning anything about that culture because according to the bible both were hell inducing ‘practices’. neither was deemed a way of life that wasn’t a choice per se. like my ethnicity.

i have been surrounded by queer persons, who were grappling with their own identities, all my life. like them, i was in my own way, trying to find where i fitted, as a brown vagina lol.

anyway, what i realised whilst watching ‘paris is burning’, is i had missed a whole ‘scene’ as i was growing up; that i was completely stoked with. i love the sounds, the freedom, the dance, the joy .. that is all an alternate reality, made by those who didn’t fit ‘mainstream’ & had decided to make their own thang.

i absolutely love that.

& while the hip-hop & dance culture that i thrived in, embraced some of the stuff that i needed, just imagine if i had found the ballroom scene! holy shit lol.

yes i may have been a straight brown vagina in amongst the queer nation lol, but i think i may have found my feng shui a lot sooner.

i guess this is a ‘what if’ kinda reminisce post full of shit that didn’t happen, but it is my attempt @ being sorta positive on a cunt of day lol.

gezus christ … i really do know how to waffle thats for sure!

kpm ©



fuse ~ damien escobar

fuse ~ damien escobar, 2017


photography .204

#bnw #nighttime #photography #kpm©

kpm © : ig @kpm-artist,why?

i could tell from the side ways glance , not of disdain, but surprise, that what i said was ‘too much’. from the facials, they thought, i thought, way too much of myself.

the discussion was around my ‘art’ … & how ‘neat’ (meaning good, or nice) it was.

it was suggested that because it was so ‘good’, i should enrol in university & do a BA in art.

now ‘most’ people would take that as a compliment slash suggestion-compliment, & take it as a well meaning comment.

however, me being me, thought: well if it’s actually so fucking ‘good’, then why do i need some other cunts approval? why do i then need to pay to go back to school & do art? i already do art.

so my reply was: ”

“yes i know its good, thank you.  if the university wants to give me a scholarship for a MA, not a BA, cos i already have one of those, then yes, i think i might consider it. if they can offer a range of ways for me to achieve a different scale of learning, that will fit my multiple ‘needs’, then yes, i might consider it.”

but that ‘compliment’ wasn’t intended as a compliment really.

it was a disingenuous way of saying: stay in your lane nigger. it aint that good.but could be aight if you went to the white mans college of learning & got your ass something more ‘marketable’.

thanks. but no thanks bitches.

kpm ©



but they’re just people.

hetero-normative, abled-bodied, big mouth, scary-ass


kpm ©



forget i was a g ~ whitehead bros

forget i was a g ~ whitehead bros, 1994

today i’m a …

disabled cunt.

yep that’s what i feel like.


most of the time i thoughtfully & purposefully take the time to re-write that script in my head, so i can come up with some clever fucking way of not feeling ‘out of the ordinary’, or disabled.

but there are a lot of fucking times when its virtually impossible to suck it up & change the narrative.

cos it is what it fucking is & its fucking annoying.

no i’m not in a fucking wheel chair & yes i should count my blessings, apparently. & no, being in a wheel chair doesn’t mean its the end of the fucking world either.

but i’m feeling for the peeps, like myself, today … who can’t do ‘mainstream living’ even if they wanted too.

why the sad sack tantrum?

today i wanted a burger.

not a job. not a car. not a house. not a sense of purpose. not racial equality.

no. just a simple fucking burger.

& the food truck with the burgers i like, is in our little town today. yippie.


its surrounded by literally hundreds of ‘fun run’ fuckers who aren’t interested in the fatty contents of said burgers, but whose ‘fun-running’ takes precedence in this fucking world. the cunts.

as much as i have progressed (well i fucking try anyways), & i can mingle a little; & i know how to take my panic fuck down from an 8 to a 3 with not as much effort as previously was needed … i am nowhere near ‘able-bodied’ enough to manoeuvre hundreds of hypo fitness fucks, in the daylight, by myself, to get a fucking burger.


no can do.

& instead of finding the positive in all of that clusterfuck, i’m fucked off, & thats it.

imagine if it was an easy thing – to feel so sure of oneself & the inclusivity that this world is afforded them, that Moi & peeps like Moi, were able to think … oh, i have *pts(d)* (insert whatever ‘disabled’ label thus likes here), but i know this ‘*function / event / restaurant / school / road / walkway ….*’ will cater to my needs somewhere in there, because thats the kinda cunts we are in this country … we’re inclusive cunts … oh yeah … so inclusive its just radiating out of our asses!!


& so yeah … i’m fucked off.

i’m burger-less, disabled & fucked right the fuck off.

fuck pts(d). but fuck the system more,  that never will include & cater for everyone, no matter who we are & what we do.

kpm ©


think that’s grief that i can feel,

pressing against my chest.

kpm ©



i feel for you ~ chaka khan

i feel for you ~ chaka khan, 1984


photography .203

#bnw #portraiture #photography #kpm©

kpm © : ig @kpm-artist


me & music: the shorts.

i know i’ve done this sorta post before, but i can’t be fucked a. finding said repetitive post to make sure i’m not exactly repeating myself; exactly, b. linking to it & c. ahhh i just can’t be fucked.

i mean, @ the end of the fucking day, who cares whether i repeat myself except that pedantic little voice in own head that says its a No-No … & those blogger advice peeps who give super-duper but fucking tiring blogging advice. dudes, its waaayyy to much to live up too!


anyway ….

me & music.

we have a longstanding intimate relationship.

actually, other than being sexual assaulted, i think its one of the longest relationships i’ve had with something. ikr. don’t get to say that every fucking day ay!

what those white ‘professionals’ didn’t tell me, was that memories are attached to our senses. & yes, thats ‘good’ & ‘bad’ memories.

it’s why the smell of dampness makes me shake. & why the sound of doors shutting make me freeze.

it’s also why the smell of bacon & tomatoes makes me feel @ home. & why singing lullabies makes me smile.

essentially, i attached my memories to a shitload of various tunes throughout my lifetime … & fuck, i’m getting old now lol so theres quite a few songs holding quite a few memories.

but i do marvel @ the fact that, when my little body couldn’t hold anymore, i just hung it on a song. & i still do.

kpm ©


awkward fucker

thats me @ the moment.

awkward fucking fucker.

oh well …

kpm ©