liberian girl ~ michael jackson

liberian girl ~ michael jackson, 1987


photography .182

#tane #tree #aotearoa #macro #photography #kpm ©

kpm © : ig @kpm-artist


– just tired of it.

the purpose of this post is for awareness and acknowledgement of ptsd as an injury and those, like myself, who are sick to all fuck of explaining themselves, whilst trying to manage symptoms and generalised life.

to my point – in a week, i lost count of how many eyeball rolls, deep sighs, maligning comments and condescending conversations i can have. which is then followed by long strains of silence.

for those that don’t know, i have been diagnosed with ptsd, which is a mental ‘injury’, caused by being sexually assaulted as an infant.

although diagnosis is reasonably recent, symptoms have been persistent but fluctuating for 44 years. it is my norm.

my mission of recent years is to blend my experiences into my life as a whole having realised that symptoms can be managed but ‘i’ cannot be ‘fixed’.

my family are tired if ‘it’. my beautiful mokos can’t understand why i don’t or find it hard to attend their events; the most heartbreaking of all. my ‘partner’ is over ‘it’. my friends generally don’t understand it. doctors and specialists don’t fully understand its implications, even though it has been a ‘thing’ for as long as war has been a thing, psychologists don’t fully understand it and neither do psychiatrists or neurologists.

medication, meditation or mindfulness as management are the generalised ‘go-to’s’.

i completely understand why a random can’t get it if a professional is still surmising theories and experimenting with medications.

which brings me to this.

when someone shares with you that they have this injury, understand that that injury is caused by another person/s actions and / or crime. that in the course of that action or crime, the now injured, were minding their own dam business.

understand that by discussing their injury with you, they are trusting you more than most. that they aren’t asking for sympathy or fixing, just a bit of understanding. when they say to you ‘google it if you don’t understand’ thats because they’re tired of reliving it, retelling it and of explaining or excusing ‘unsocial behaviours’.

and when you’re wondering if the injured is just making it up and show with your eye ball roll, that they should just ‘get over it’ … that this is is what it feels like – play video for 15 seconds. note your reaction.

welcome to our world.

its startling, loud, painful, random, anxiety inducing.

just spare a thought for us at those ‘loud & joyful’ times of the year. they’re not overly joyous occasions, they’re filled with random unknowns. smells, sounds, visitors, expectations, family, fireworks, extra people, drop-ins, events – expectations.

they’re filled with anxiety and social expectations .

while I’m managing my symptoms in the confines of my home im not being a miserable cunt per se. i am managing the noises and randomness the best way i know how.

its not social anxiety – or slightly nervous of crowds or talking – fuck, i’m a fucken talker given half the chance. & no, im not shy. its flashbacks that are random as fuck, & more. its all that, & more, with this ‘noise’ in the back drop. & it’s what we manage, or try to, on the daily.

so next time you suggest we should get out for some fresh air or ask us to feel or be more affectionate and engaged, remember, that all that ‘noise’ is going on in our heads and sometimes ‘engaging’ is the last fucken thing we want to do.

kpm ©


fyi: don’t grow old

not on this western front anyways.

we despise the old.

much prefer the new.

kpm ©



side to side ~ ariana grande

side to side ~ ariana grande featuring nicki minaj, 2016


photography .181

#maunga #mountains #aotearoa #photography #kpm ©

kpm © : ig @kpm-artist


racist af

did i tell yah, that 2 days before the gregorian christmas celebrations, we met the new landlords?

suffice to say, which is not an understatement – but they are as racist AF.

old school racist. ignorant racist. ‘all the cliches’ racist.

i spent about a half hour listening to a tirade of ignorant white woman racist rant.

& it wasn’t pleasant. at all.

what was interesting was that she was completely deluded in her reasoning for us ‘maaris’ being dirty, lazy, unemployed, pregnant & broken. & she didn’t like being corrected or educated or disagreed with. she disliked it so much she broke into the nasty ‘i’m in charge’ white woman that had been lurking beneath the surface, just waiting for me to agree with her bigotry.

but she, & her kind can go get fucked.

turns out, they going to bulldoze the house and rebuild a big fat retirement monstrosity on the land. in the meantime, we can stay until their permits come through.

fuck her and her permits.

which brings me to this:

i’ve decided, even more so than i have been, that i’m not here to explain history or colonisation anymore. i’m not explaining for all first nations people or for black people or for the currently oppressed or incarcerated. i am espousing my intersectional experience & what i will be doing about it from here on out.

backstory: my mama is white. she has blue eyes and light brown hair. she gets served first if we are both standing in line. she is also the person who schooled me on just how fucking racist our country is.

i’ve heard a lot of conversation about how ‘this thing’ is not about racism, or colour because we are all human.

but i’m sorry to say, that that is incorrect.

some people see nothing but colour or more accurately the lack of whiteness. & not all those people are white. my father is a racist piece of shit & he’s darker than me. in his case i can understand that he is a product of old school colonisation. will he ever realise that? i’m uncertain.

my recent experience with this openly racist white woman, has shifted my focus slightly. i’ve made it a mission to stay away from negativity and general cunts whilst i get my pts(d) feng shui tweak on. i’ve got no time for left field cunty behaviour…. & this is where its seems i have gone – a little left field myself.

racism is a reality. one that a shittonne of people choose not to see. white priveledge? maybe. whatever the reason, that is not my main concern. my concern is that these people have absolutely no desire to rectify it. in fact they’re quite content with their beliefs because it suits them.

no matter where i place myself on the spectrum, there are always going to be racist cunts present.

talynne kel, an author whose blog i’ve followed closely for some time, explains it like this :

“So, when white people and Black men get irritated with me and say I’m difficult, it’s usually because I’m not conforming to the behavior they expect from Black women. When white people and Black men say I’m opinionated and argumentative, it’s usually because I don’t fall in line and agree with their bullshit. When white people and Black men say I am intimidating and angry, it’s usually because they couldn’t get me to do something they wanted. And when white people and Black men say that I am uncooperative and not a team player, it’s definitely because I wouldn’t do something they wanted.”

so, this is me. unapologetically brown & not fucking with racist rants anymore.

kpm ©



today, i tried to get clean.

i tore @ the skin of my inner thighs.

i scraped the feeling of filth from my vulva & clitoris,

making my way onto the lining of my vagina;

i hoped to squeeze the bad from my cervix, fallopian tubes & uterus.

all the while i could hear them whisper

“just don’t think about it & it will go away”.

but i wasn’t thinking about it.

i was trying to get clean.

kpm ©



street talkin ~ slick rick

street talkin’ ~ slick rick ft outkast (clean version), 1999


photography .180

#beach_life #summer #ocean #photography #kpm ©

kpm © : ig @kpm-artist


hormonal update. ikr …

its all part of the cycle of life apparently.

change, that is.

& change, physical, mental or otherwise, can be fucking hard.

peri-menopause is the official title. today its just bullshit. bullshit changes. hard changes. physically harsh changes.

but its all part of the cycle of life apparently.

kpm ©



i had a plan.

kpm ©



all i want ~ miguel ft j cole

all i want ~ miguel featuring j cole, 2010


photography .179

#bnw #aotearoa #moon #watch #photography #kpm ©

kpm © : ig @kpm-artist


the driving.

did i tell yah, i drove the other day?

well i did.

& even though i can’t go over 40ks without starting to shake, i feel comfortable as fuck, puttering along like a nana.

over the next few months i’m going to teach myself to drive again. slow & easy wins the race they reckon. so thats how i’m gonna approach this.

& cos if i wait for the elusive psychologist & their elusive exposure therapy, it could be another motherfucking year!!

nope. we doing it my way this time.

kpm ©


where are they now?

from the moment they said i should ‘feel’ more, i shoulda told them to shut the fuck up.

when they said i needed to be more connected; more in tune with myself. be compassionate and not so cold.

i shoulda told them to go fuck themselves.

but instead: i listened.

& then attempted to be all those things.

but where are these cunts with all the helpful advise now?

offering to hold my hand through the grocery shop as i squint at the lights or shake at the counter? holding me up as i near drop to floor after a car backfires or consoling me as i breakdown in the front seat of the car waiting for the lights to change?

where are these cunts with all the wonderful expectations?

not the fuck here are they!

kpm ©



i don’t do secrets or leave things unfinished. untold.

kpm ©



new jack city ~ guy

new jack city – guy, 1991

doing you on social media.

i came across a dude to follow on FB the other week.

the opening statement he made was about challenging male fragility. that he  had decided that it was a time for change & a ‘remake’ of his own beliefs & he was pleased with the progress. toward the end of the statement he notes that he won’t tolerate the misogynistic bullshit that is espoused from his peers.

big ups i thought.

he understood. he embraced & he was making changes to the way he related to others & how others related to him, or espoused their views around him.

what disturbed me, was the backlash he got, not from other men, but from, would-be feminists.

they told him in no uncertain terms that his use of certain words were derogatory toward women & that if he was really serious about his changes then he should have researched the words he used before he used them.

which brings me to this.

i’ve been told on many occasions to not to use words niggah, retard or cunt, to name just the favourite trinity. to that, i say, get fucked.

i view the ‘correcting’ of my language use as a type of patriarchal / ethnocentric view, that says that I, am not able to use a word in a different context, (which i may add i have been called all of these things by their original derogatory context) than was originally intended.

its all in the intent people.

& we are so busy picking to bits the context of anothers dialogue so we can appear a little more righteous than most, that we miss the intent of it.

all i can say to those feminists & any other self righteous know-it-all cunt, is #YouDoYouBoo & #IWillDoMe.

thats all.

kpm ©


purpose served.

think it’s done & has served its purpose.

kpm ©