today is angel baby day:

well, thats what i call it anyways.

not to cultural misappropriate & all, but this is a remembrance day that i completely dig. not that i dont remember them any other day; its just nice to have an ‘occasion’ where they are celebrated on purpose.

as ‘maori’, our dead are never far from us anyways. i’ve learnt over the years that to seperate them into the ‘them’ & ‘other’ category is cold & pretty much denying part of yourself.

my dead are with me all the time.

my angel babies are always with me.

today i would’ve lit a candle for them … but i packed them all away lol.

*love yous little ones, you’ve never been forgotten*

kpm ©



funny old things, beliefs.

usually held until necessity makes them

impossible to hold any longer.

kpm ©




you are entitled to yours.

& me mine, or lack thereof.

kpm ©




said in an earlier post that i’d been having quite vivid dreams lately.

another of those awesome (but not so awesome) dreams woke me with a memory. and it is the memory that lingers even now.

as some of you will know, i used to work in a kiddie prison. the government doesn’t call it that of course, but potato potahtoe … it is what it is … a fucking prison as far as i’m concerned.

when i started at this hell hole, i was bright eyed and busy tailed and was ready to take on the world. i wasn’t ignorant but was slightly naive.

realistically though: i was still colonised.

i believed the negative stats that say our people are at the bottom of the heap and the only way we can change that is by assimilating. again, the government cunts won’t state it like this … but it is what it is.

i went into youth justice with the notion that getting them kiddie fuckers early meant that there’d be less damage done. my theory was sound. i hadn’t factored in though, that the powers that be, didn’t and don’t, actually give a shit.

anyway … the memory i had was of a young man that i had sectioned. when i say i, i should be saying the government entity that i worked for. i followed the instructions i was given and did what was required of my position.

what lingered … lingers … in my memory and my gutt though, is how it made me feel and what it did to my body.

it was the first time it like 20 odd years that i had been that sick. true, my health was declining over all at this point … but i got tonsillitis for the first time in like years. so bad, my throat swelled shut and i couldn’t speak.

at the same time my gutt turned and i was vomiting.

little hard to vomit out of a swollen throat. enough said bout that.

and i knew in the pitt of my stomach that i had done something that i neither believed in or wanted to do.

without going into the gory details, sectioning this young man, in my opinion, was about managing him not helping him. it was about getting him out of the way and using the power of the crown to do so.

and i was the instrument that did it.

i had to go to court and back up the statements that were included in the report. and no shit, i could barely speak. not that they gave a fuck.

i remember looking at this kid in the box, thinking: fuck, i don’t even want to be here and i don’t believe any of this shit. and then looking at him and him looking at me like i was betraying him.

i betrayed me really. as well as him.

i didn’t act on my instinct and on my beliefs because they were all up the shit.

honestly, our system was not and is not equipped to deal with young people with mental health issues. aside from the mono cultural bullshit they have to go through that puts them in the position of being misunderstood in the first place – ultimately winding up in a facility like this one … they then have to navigate health issues that this system doesn’t understand and isn’t designed to assist with.

excuses aside, this was one of those moments that had me wanting to head out the door. but i had spent so much time and money studying – i had sacrificed so much to be here, i lamented.

and in the meantime it was destroying me, literally, from the inside out.

what i understood this morning regarding this memory, was i hadn’t just sectioned one of Our kids, one of My kids … i had gone against everything that i believed in … i had silenced myself and done as i was told. i had advocated for the wrong side.

i had silenced my own still small voice for the sake of time, effort, money and sacrifice.

i sacrificed my voice.


my resolution this morning, after this long-winded realisation …

i’ll never do this again.

figuratively or physically.

no matter the cost, i won’t ever be on the wrong side of my own values ever again.

kpm © : ig @kpm-artist



yah know what … i got beef … again.

So whats fucking new ay … but in my un-zen-like state at the moment, some fuckery occurred to moi. So this post is one of those ranty ‘getting shit off’ve my chest’ jobbys. No apologies … it is what it is and here it is:

When my kids were small-ish: like 5 and 10 … I was attending church … I know – pause and soak that in lol … yes I used to willingly go to church …. arrgh … any who, during this time I did what I do … ask a tonne of questions and put everything I was ‘learning’ to the test.

a. ‘as a church family, we are here to support each other’.

Fuck did I push that one. And what I found out was there were 3, maybe 4 peoples, at a stretch, who practiced what they preached. Those beautiful peoples became quite close friends over this time.

b. ‘you need to have more faith …’

A christianity classic. Turns out its just a tool to shift blame and make the aforementioned ‘supporting’ line, invalid. You see, if its deemed that you don’t have enough faith, then the hardships that you may face are actually your own fucking fault … so there.

Now over the years I’ve tried to chip off the shit I had taken in on this church adventure and the one I was subjected to as a child. The latter was a little different.

I had no choice in whether I attended church or not.

In hindsight, after many many years, I realised it was good for my mama … she may have been a very different person if she didn’t have the ‘support’ of her church … although I also did wonder if she would’ve been supported more if she had’ve had white children, not 2 illegitimate brown children.

But it was what it was.

Today I felt a pang of fuckery brewing in my gutt. As I was listening to my partners angst on some (what I considered) trivial situation … and all I kept thinking was:

“Harden the fuck up man … nothings going to get handed to You”

It took me back abit: like, where the fuck did that attitude come from.

After a little dissection (as I do), I remember many many times of inadvertently being bashed about with the good book and that line (just a little more palatable so to speak) being repeated over and over again.

Yes see … I remember being told as a child that I had it good. That my mother was trying her best and I should just ‘behave’ and ‘trust god’ … that if I had faith (whatever the fuck that was .. ) then my derelict brown asshole was bound to find heaven. Yeah, yeah: I fluffed all that up ‘Me Styles’, but its the basic jist.

Somehwhere along the line, I retained this bullshit way of thinking. That if I just grovel enough, act weak enough, pray enough, have ‘faith’ enough, be forgiving enough, work hard enough, act strong enough … which I might add, all fucking contradict each other! …. Then I too can enter the pearly gates; possibly at the back of the line after all the ‘good white people’ have entered first … Yes, I too can get there.

Not till years later, did I figure out that Jesus was a dark skinned dude and looked nothing like the pictures portrayed of him. Jesus was also pretty gangstah … didn’t mince his words and was blunt to default. My kinda dude. So beef was not with him or his life work.

It was with the self righteous cunts who had re-shaped Jesus’ life into some kind fucked up cult like thing, to get people to do as they were told.

I’ve since learnt thats called fascism.

End of rant.

kpm ©


unpredictable shit

I’ve discovered I would rather leave than be ousted. Rejection issues? Probs. Pretty sure my Nan used to say something about a lady leaving right on time…not lingering…something like that…knowing me I’ve rehashed 3 different sayings and merged them into one of my own…but oh well, sounds good.

But anyway…this 42 days notice has finally got me spinning…jumping…thrashing about like a P addict looking for a pipe. I don’t like having shit pulled out from under me…

But that’s life isn’t it. I don’t mean the whiny…omfg, life is shit and shit changes cos its shit and im shit…I mean, that IS life. Change. The unpredictable. The natural disaster. The fucking ebbs and flows of life.

I thought I enjoyed change…another one of those crock of shit beliefs I thought I believed…but turns out I’m full of shit…


I like change…that I – I…create. That’s not the same as wisps of exotic or toxic change that randomly splat onto the window of life. Those aren’t predictable. And those are the ones I don’t like. Neither does my body.

But…I’m getting the sense that as much as I like to predict the future, hedge my bets…not in the crystal ball sense…but the law of averages sense…Life can’t be predicted.

Bummer. Has anyone notified the local fucking ptsd association of that?? We’re fucked!

And as much as the world around me seems to have its own ptsd thing happening and they’re predicting the shit out of everything past present and futuristic…they’re not right…which means shit is exactly unpredictable and they can’t change that.

So we’re all fucked?!

Ebbs and flows…change…



Breath, mother fucker…breath.

kpm ©



I learnt something about myself today, in amongst trying to focus.

I have a whole heap of beliefs…that I don’t actually believe.

I’ve been hanging onto them for so long…because…I think, at one time or another during my life, they suited my purpose…were all that I knew…I didn’t have a wider understanding…they were easy…or easier than the truth…they were true, for that time.

The fascinating thing about reviewing ones own existence, is that the oddest of things surface…right on time I suppose.