today was ..

TW : some morbid/ish bs .. .. ..
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today was .. dizzying.
dreamt bout grandad again last night. that’s twice in 1 week. but no more than half a dozen in the last 14ish years.

‘sitting with it’ ..

( really gotta find an alternative name to that phrase .. I don’t like it .. like , journey and moving forward  lawd strike me down now ..

Anyways .. digression )

& I dunno if the moon is in your anus or if the planets are in digital alignment at the minute. but shit is def weird af.

anyway ..
grandad was making plum sauce .. in my dream. @ the old house. the one he built.

the one he built with the trade that he was ‘given’ after returning from world war fucking 2. he chose a trade .. not land.

the house where I felt the most love.
the house where I experienced on my lil & growing body and soul,  mongrelised depths of depravity.
the house where the smell of bacon & tomatoes meant going to work & love.
the house where the stench of bodily excrements & boiling opium, stuck to the walls.

how can all that coexist in one place.

i spose it has, in me.

screaming & smiling.
smiling & screaming.

the most protection experienced & the most vulnerability exploited .. all in one place.
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i suspect .. because he’s not talking to me .. this is grandad’s way of being near me.
his way of protecting.
his silent, slightly traumatised, way of holding onto my insides while they crumble.

making plum sauce for us .. was an act of love on so many levels.

I miss him.
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#life
#love
#demons
#unravel
#peace
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#bnw
#polaroid
#lil
#me
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#kpm©

errr hm ..

what a pleasant lil place it must be, to be in a space,
where you ain’t never required, to clean up,
the mess, you made.
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yup. the comma’s are in the right fkn place.
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#bnw
#dark
#child
#feral
#fuckyous
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#kpm©

aires .. etc

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so, it’s whiro ..
love me some whiro …
of te ngahuru ma tahi o paengawhawha
(yeah my phone don’t have those macron things .. deal).

& we moved into aires season. also, birthday month.

specifically, my birthday month.

so, after yesterday’s semi shock to the system, I decided to change up my usual plan & go commando, thusly making birthday month flexible, with extensions if necessary   cos ..

• fiddy ✊
•peri
•fuck the crown
•aging is a muthafukin hon.our
•fuck covxd
•you only get to call yourself the 5 . O once in a lifetime & not be the 5 . 0 路‍♀️
•i want to enjoy all of it @ my own pace
&
•fuck the crown.


so let me start off aires season with some words of wisdom for the m/asses :
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“the thing with ‘healing’ per se, is it’s messy af.
don’t matter what lovely little anecdote or meme your ass can come up with, or what wonderful little sunset & Maisey Rika tunes (no shade on Ms Rika, u gangang 藍), you can post along your ‘healing journey’ .. if it’s real .. its gonna hurt like fuck.

but not forever.

cos then it gets itchy.”
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yo welcome 
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Follow Me for more intermittent pearls of wis.dom. ✊
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slide one.
me.
unfiltered ..  giving you, pre fiddy finery, full of allergy goodness 藍

slide two.
the other part of the healing hikoi, I chose to embark, @ pre fiddy 臘‍♀️‍♀️

shout outs to the hau tutu of @pacificink , @stormy
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also ..
I’m wearing a cute lil @tohutees slash @tameiti inspired ensemble .. in it’s entirety it reads : “colonised af”.
get it ✊藍
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lastly .. but not leastly .. ❤️
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*matua chose his transition time beautifully.
got to see him in the tail of the waka last night .. a shooting star tohu .. & I am grateful to be alive @ a time that Moana Jackson trod papatuanuku too *
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#kpm©

yo welcome 😊

kpm©

been a minute &

created a climate of chaos.
so you lookin like the save.i.our.
but.
you the catalyst.
you the In.stigator.
you the Fire starter.
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now
put out yo own fire.
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
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#bnw #bs
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#artistic  #intersectional #linguistical
#tutu
#truthseeker
#etcetera

#kpm©

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• 

overwhelming.sense.of.
feeling.
alone.
isolated.
lone.
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unsafe.
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vulnerable.
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these.take.over.any.sense.
of.
any.thing.else.
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decided.
to.sit.ye/thee.with.that.shit.
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let.see.wot.te.fuck.gives.
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artistic & intersectional linguistical tutu & truth seeker.i am.
#etcetera
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#kpm©

page break

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literal.

chilling & recalibrating.

resting.

do the same.

---

kpm©

.. . . the end.

for now.

thankyou, heaps, for every little word, smile & encouragement. for being yous & fucking with me.

love yahs for it.

head up, shoulders back.

breathe deep.

& don’t let the fuckers get to yah.

see you on the flip sides.

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kpm©

final deep shit thoughts , re me & twenty motherfucking twenty one Hun

i think I’m still after a feeling .. Safety.
in my body, skin.
i’m not sure what that ‘looks’ like until I see it.
the thing that makes me feel the most at ease, is .. simplicity .. in all senses of the word.
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is the world an unsafe place for a little girl.
for a half grown girl.
for a half ass grown woman.
for a womxn.
for a brown woamn.
Is it.
Is it really.
At all.
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All she needed was protection.
To feel safe.
Ok.
Protected.
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The child didn’t feel protected.
The child wasn’t protected.
The child had to protect itself.
It’s still frozen in one place waiting for shit to make sense.
Waiting for grown ups to do something, grown up.
Like.
Manage themsleves.
And protect those that are vulnerable.
However.
They’re vulnerable.
And as ungrown up as the child standing next to them, watching them implode and explode.
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In the meantime .. we tryna grow our own selves up.

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kpm©

final thoughts : intersections @ ’21

see, when you’ve completely exiled and ostracised a whole set of people, and then expect them to give a fuck about the health of the collective .. the exiled do not give a shit.

it’s not just that the crown has done absolutely nothing to honour te tiriti. but they have, as a collective, set out to annihilate Us from 1840 onwards.

legislation, destabilisation, imprisonment, land grabs, assimilation etc .. the recipe hasn’t changed.

they push hard to appear like they give a shit about your brown ass, & mandate the fuck out of shit we were already locked out of & a shitload of us don’t give a fuck about ..

but they’re the shiestiest fuckers on the planet nek to those phallus riding bullshitters.

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kpm©

she / her .. them

surreal ..
is that what I feel.
not sure.
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seems to sum up the whole of this sitch_ation.
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it feels familiar af.
foreign af.
heavy af.
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i think i can hear my tipuna.
the kuia i heard in the stars
@ the start of this multifaceted fuckery.
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i said i wanted to find her.
& i heard a faint karanga.
low & easy.
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i thought that meant, physically, I’d find her.
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but i don’t think that’s the dilly now.
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sometimes I feel
a scene unfolding through someone else’s eyes.
i see water.
not the ocean.
ripples, & a gentle rhythm of paddles in the water.
I hear twigs breaking.
I smell wet dirt.
I feel,
right.
at home.
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pre white.
pre invasion.
pre.
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ae.
that kuia.
as a kotiro,
before they came & destroyed her world.
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sometimes I can feel them all.
all the kuia .. from all their lands.
karanga @ the same time.
loud & long ..
piercing the night skies.
sending shivers down the spines of all tane,
living & dead.
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kpm©

.. .. & then, there was you ..

i have little faith in humanity.
& No faith in the systems that have set themselves up to control my existence.
i have no faith in a god that doesn’t hear and choses not to see.
i have no faith in those that utilise that logic.
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there is nothing in this present fuckery that would suggest that anyone has me & mine, best interests in mind. rather, they are more concerned about a collective that doesn’t exist and a lie rather than history & honesty.

but such is my history, no?

it’s taken a while to grieve, acknowledge & adjust.

& we both know it’s not done.

in amongst it all, i wait to hear you.

but you & I know that truth, right.

you know I weighed you up.

the options were similar to what is being presented atm. & the pressure and timeframe feels just as tight, jarring & triggering af.

but I keep waiting to hear you. waiting for you to tell me what to do.

like i’ve ever listened to anyone anyways  living or dead .. but you know this, right.

i can feel the same angst i felt all those years ago. that still tails me when i feel  pressure & coercion .. waiting for the analyst part of me to kill all my emotions & take the fucking wheel.

but you know that right.

do you remember me touching you .. well, holding the place where you grew ..  just as your sibling had been a short while before.

you felt that ever present knot, that resides all up in that place, right.

you heard me scream from that place, right.

did you hate me then, or feel pity. knowing that my choice was going to be self preservation.

i knew, you knew.

how cruel is that ay.

i don’t know if I’ll ever make complete peace with my choices. or if I’ll ever not hate those that got me to that place. or if I’ll ever not feel that loathing you see in my eyes. feel in my soul.

I know you know I loved you.
I know you know I could feel you leave.

Or did that happen to the both of us ay.

I also know you know I know you know, it should never have been that way .. but it was .  It is.

I hope to hear you some day.
Feel you, maybe.

Or maybe you know I know it hurts too much, so you don’t whisper at me.

i do feel the pitter patters of your teeny tiny feets on my chest though, trying to make it crack.

Grieve. Feel.

It hurts like fuck.
But you know that, right.

& I am trying .. breathing.
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I’ve put you amongst your tipuna & your siblings ..  neices & nephews.

I’ll leave you there for as long as you need.

well, as long as I need.
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I love you.
I always have.
I always will.
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#babylossawareness
#amethyst

#whakatahe #babyloss

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#kpm©

and ..

there’s something quite soul crushing about, not just being told your a shit ass mother, true or not .. but having your mama – hood, forcefully removed.
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& then to have your child / ren used as tools of coercion, is an entirely different kinda fuckshit.

Type of fuckshit that’ll opt for abortion.
Type of fuckshit that’ll opt for sterilization over contraception.
Type of fuckshit that will pre book a space in hell for the weilder of coercion.
Type of fuckshit that would see the village burned to the motherfucking ground.

Type of fuckshit that is visceral af.

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kpm©

& it just kept .. on.

I was 17.

I’d had surgery not long before the summons.

They’d removed a lump from my breast.

& It still hurt.
I still hurt.

‘wean the baby off the breast .. so there’s no milk ..’, had been the doctors orders.

I did it.
Apparently it was for ‘our’ health.
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I wore all black to court.

I was Nervous.
Actually my chest was so tight I could hardly breathe.

I walked into the dusty old room with the tables arranged in such a way it suggested I wasn’t there for a light chat & cuppa tea & I was gonna lose, no matter what I said or did.

I listened.

Watched & Listened.

Noone Looked at me though.
Not actuals at me.

They browsed my face.

That’s how they roll though. Browsing.

Same people I persumed lived in those pretty houses. that don’t come out for beaten brown womxn.

@ court, when they had finished pillaging my character & personhood, I walked out & I was no longer a mama.

I was half a mama.

Joint guardianship or something like that, is what they declared.

it meant Id have to continue swallowing my voice. Noone was interested in truth here.

I guess I’d thought up until then, that it was surely going to get better.
That Jesus Christ wasn’t really this fucken cruel.

But I was wrong.

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kpm©

& i waited ..

having exercised my right to say NO.

i felt the fear rise instantly.

then i felt his soft hand tight on the back of my neck.
it wound it’s fingers round my hair, anchoring me in place.

i grabbed the stroller with my free hand, the other grabbed the back of the anchored hand which had started dragging me, the stroller & my baby, down the road.

2 long streets toward home.

half stumbling.
half gaining momentum.

it was a long enough drag to know there was gonna be damage done at the finish line.

It would be me.
or my baby.
that’s what i thought.

how did i get here.
in a place where this was the choice.

& as i caught a half sight of baby in the stroller, i marvelled at how peacefully she slept.

i steadied the stroller.

the dragging got heavier & lower, making it harder to keep the stroller on all it’s wheels, as we got to the driveway of home.

well, what was supposed to be home anyway.

i started purposefully crying.

it was a distraction.

as he rose in height, feeling powerful in all his mightiness at what he in all his colonised glory, was accomplishing, he didn’t notice me swing the stroller round 360 & set it down in the opposite room to the kitchen.

shutting the door behind.

i took a deep breath.

as he lowered his now solid fist to the side of
my face,
my neck,
my back,
my shoulders ..
i rose my arms up.

i had stopped crying.

& i waited.

waited for him to finish.
he’d get bored soon.
or hungry.
or thirsty.
& he’d make a dramatic exit.

but my girl would wake soon.

lord, don’t let her wake now.
don’t let her cry now.

waiting.
& wondering.
why noone came out of their pretty houses.
why noone came to the door.
why noone.
came.
again.

& i waited.
& waited.

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kpm©

kia ora ..

just a hello and a welcome to the tonne of newbies .. i see yous and thankyou for the follow!

so, as you peruse, you’ll see there doesnt seem to be much of a structure to this blog lol .. & thats purposeful.

i know i know.

i write & dump & hollah & scream & upload & download & dump some more .. as i feel.

for me, this is entirely the essence of anxiety & pts(d) for me.

within it, i’ve found some kinda semblance of balance & peace.

@ the end of the day thats all im trying to do really.

if you find some kind of something out of it too, then cool. & youre welcome lol.

but dont try to figure it out. you’ll just mind fuck yo’self lol & no-one wants that ay.

anyways .. welcome to you all .. even those selling yo wares .. yeah i see yous too …

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kpm(c)

we need a resolution ~ aaliyah

we need a resolution ~ aaliyah, 2001

unfortunate chain of events , nei …

see

they aren’t talking,

cos it’s an unwelcome

uncomfortable truth.

& for some,

it’s just way more profitable that we stay killing ourselves & our own.

[ surely not you say ..]

[but .. yes ..]

it’s about more than talking.

it’s about patriarchy,

misogyny,

colonisation,

trauma,

intergenerational trauma ..

mash all that up with a tonne of booze & a pandemic

and tadah.

if we can completely change a societies structure in just over a year,

to include tracing people,

places

and households,

for the betterment of ‘communities’,

then we should have sorted the Domestic Violence shit storm years ago.

no?

yes?

But we haven’t.

why not?

go back to the top.

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kpm©

Sooooo. .

Guess what.
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I realised the other night, that I actually enjoy bedtime.
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Right. I know most enjoy it .. but I have never ever not ever.
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Never.
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Why.
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Aside from the nightmares that had plagued me forever.. sleep is the ultimate vulnerability.
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Yup. Let that soak.
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So becoming aware of the fact that I actually enjoy, not just being a little ok, but enjoy, look forward too .. bed and sleep. .
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Is fuck ing A Maze ing 
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That’s it.
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kpm©

Ae, that’s it

It’s grief
Deep ass grief
Fuck
What wasn’t
What I know could have been
But wasn’t
It’s not bitterness
It’s just loss
Loss and grief
And as I come to an end
As we all do
I can feel, not regret
Just grief
It’s been a long long long
Ass road
Long ass

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kpm©