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dead peeps ..

‘what? yous don’t talk to your dead people?’ is my new come back.
after a colonised lifetime of fighting to look “normal” re talking to the dead 🙄 this year I decided, fuck it, imma just listen & try & go with it.
so, this will be the first intentional setting of #matariki I have observed. what that meant for our tipuna probs looks way diff than my take on it, but with much debate & negotiation 🙄🤣 it’s ending up as a crossover of #poroporoaki meets #diadelosmuertos with a #hakari to twist it out .. I know, I know 🤣 negotiations included me highlighting to said dead peeps, that I am but one peep & resources & kai are limited atm, so no, your bonoffee pie is gonna have to make nek years menu geez lol & that yes, I hadn’t got my ass into gear & printed off the photos I was going too 🙄 but really, what is a photo but a memory ay 👀🤣 & they agreed, finally 😊
so this is all about honouring my peeps, making sure they are remembered, their stories (whether they be slightly stretched or not .. ) be told. that they know they are loved & missed. that I can shed a tear but smile at the same time.
cos at the end of the day, they are why I’m here right .. & yes, you are welcome 😊 🖤
#thebusiness 🖤😘


kpm © : ig @kpm-artist


 

ancestral dreams

we have multiple ancestors , watching, proud & protective.


kpm©


 

my will … simplified.

i had a long winded entry here … typically ‘me’, with all my requests & ‘hopes’ @ control after death.

somewhere over the last few months, i’ve realised, there aint shit that you can do after you’ve croaked. not for yourself & not for those that love you.

& for those that love you (if you’re lucky enough to have any of those), how they chose to grieve you is all they have in that moment after you’ve gone.

so i guess i should pretty much leave them too it ;)

see, i’ll always be where my babies are … where their babies are. in life or death, i’ll always watch over them as best i can & protect them the best i can.

i love them more than any thing in or out of this world. & i’m pretty sure they know that, which means: my job here is done!

oh, & practically, for my poppets … do whatever the fuck yous like with my shit. theres another post (search: my will or death lol) in here somewhere about practical shit if you actually want practical / cheap advise lol … you’re welcome.

oh, & i got rid of the hard copy, theres just this one. & the usernames & passwords to my shit are the same / combos of what they’ve always been … if you can’t figure them out … oh well lol.

love yous my darlings! see yous later! mwahhhh xx


#mywill


kpm ©


 

on : dead funeral stuff

Yes, it seems a little morbid, but after recent events and conversations I decided to take matters into my own hands, and plan ahead. Properly.

After a little research I found out the following (for our country anyways) … this is ‘my’ interpreted version:

  • A will doesn’t need to be done with a lawyer, it just needs to be written and witnessed by 2 people who won’t get anything out of it; the will that is.
  • You can’t bury on private land unless you have a shitload of permits.
  • Burying in a cemetery also takes a shitload of permits.
  • Why be buried with a shit tonne of people you don’t know, especially when you hardly liked people when you were alive?
  • The funeral industry is just that; an industry. They’ll make a buck off’ve anything.
  • A service is held for customary reasons. There’s no real necessity in it.
  • You don’t need a casket to be buried in, or cremated in.
  • You don’t need to be embalmed.
  • You don’t need to be cut up unless you died some heinous way and they want to poke around and find the cause of death.
  • If you get buried in non-biodegradable shit (including the box), that shit lingers and leeches into the earth.
  • An urn is a waste of money. A jar will do.
  • The cheapest way to go is cremation; but that still costs a shit tonne of money. I think the Vikings had the right idea.
  • It’s still possible to be buried at sea, but again, you need a shit tonne of permits.
  • Even a natural burial here, has regulations re: planting, depth of burial, buying a plot.
  • It’ll cost you a small fortune to transport the body and hire a mortician peep, but when fams are grieving, that’s the last thing they’re worried about.
  • Apparently you can get some death grant to help with expenses. How nice of them.
  • A cemetery is still Council / Crown owned. And has regulations.
  • Memorials, headstones and plinths also cost an immoral amount of money.
  • When you’re dead, You’re dead.

kpm ©


 

its a suicide related poem

i was seven

and he was 30 something, i think.

well, he seemed old.

but everything seems old when you’re little.

he was a whirlwind

tumultuous

but passionate

& safe.

but angry.

he was the funny one.

the loved one.

the crawl up into his lap one.

the one that should have stayed.

but his demons caught him

and his out was permanent.

and his body still, lifeless, asleep.

wanting to touch his hand

his face

to wake him up.

to take the bandage off

his face.

to wake him up.

and as their tears flowed

and i turned my head round, to take notice

it was grief, i saw.

but didn’t understand.

he would never wake up, ever again.

his life he took, his life was his.

his act of defiance and self determination,

it was his.

and the grief i felt

then, but not knowing

was in-compared

to the grief

that came later.

when i

understood.

that he wasn’t coming back.

or waking up.

or building.

or yelling.

or singing.

or being.

he was.

is.

dead.

he wasn’t before, but

now is free.

and we are sad.


kpm ©


 

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photography .130

#headstones #cemetery #bnw #photography #photographer #kpm©


kpm © : ig @kpm-artist


 

#black&whites #beach #beachlife #driftwood #wood #debris #beauty #macro #monochrome #unfiltered #photoblog #photograph #photography #kpm©#black&whites #beach #beachlife #driftwood #wood #debris #beauty #macro #monochrome #unfiltered #photoblog #photograph #photography #kpm©Save

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check.

had 2 dreams recently, ’bout my biological father.

might check to see if the old cunts dead.


#FeelingHopeful


thats all. scroll on.


kpm©


 

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another one bites the dust

I wonder some days, if I’m hitting that age that my Nan used to talk about … where those that you’ve known throughout your ‘energetic’ years, start to drop off. Somehow in my granddaughter brain though, I thought that was like, 70 or 80 years of age. Not that I was paying much attention I guess.

So, I’m nearly 45 – half of 90, so I figure (calculating my gene pool etc), I’m just over half way there ;) In which case, finding out another peep has been found swinging by the neck, is not really surprising.

Maybe?

I get that taking ones own life seems like a shit deal. I guess, I don’t view it that way.

Don’t get me wrong; I grieve … I feel slightly ripped and somewhat annoyed … mainly annoyed that yet again, I find myself staring down the mysteries of life and death and wondering; WT actual F?? This time the departed leaves behind 5 children and a wife and no ‘this is why i did it’ … which is also pretty ‘normal’.

So is the act of hara-kiri an act of cowardice? Of self-pity maybe? Of ill-health? A tip of the mental health balance? Or is it really the ultimate act of control over ones own destiny … demise?

I’m going with the latter.

We all die at some point and to think otherwise is just over zealous positive thinking. It’s a given. We don’t live in these vessels for ever. I believe ‘we’, as in our mauri / our spirits, live on, always … that we are forever in the minds and hearts of those we love … and those we pissed off ;) And that belief sort of helps me let go of the ‘person’ we knew here. ‘Cos theres so much more to people than what we can physically see isn’t there … and that’s the bit I usually can see without them saying a word.

So when they leave this world I believe they linger … their essence and our memories of them, live on.

I hope this newest statistic isn’t remembered as a statistic … I know their family doesn’t view them that way. I hope when we speak of them, their ending isn’t all that is spoken of.

For all of the family …

Tehei Mauri Ora.


kpm ©


 

 

‘sleep well my beloved sister’

I don’t know who to talk too.

I’m not sure what to say.

Nothing.

My heart, my insides

feel heavy.

But not.

Possibly regret.

Possibly grief.

Whatever.

It’s too late.

For everything.

Your dead.

I think they forgot

we are sisters.

Remember    …

the forgotten one.

Rest easy

the loved one.

Rest easy.

pai moe toku tuahine aroha


kpm ©


 

when im

remember me please.

when i’m a framed

photograph

on the wall.


kpm ©


 

and the dead dude is still here…literally

As we pack up…well actually I pack up, and the partner moves around the house making it look like he’s packing up…yes, I know your steez! lol…we came across ‘the bro’s’ “box”. Well, not really ‘came across’ either…we know exactly where he has been…in our house! We’ve had him here with us for nearly 2 years. And he’s been dead, nearly 3; and me  and the partner got to talking, as we do.

‘the bro’ is one of the partners very bestest friends…I call them BFFs, but that’s apparently not very manly…so ‘bros’ it is. There were 3 of them in their ‘pack’ and they’ve been friends nearly all his life. Each one of them make up a very quirky whole. And whenever they got together it was beyond funny to watch…but quite a mesmerizing blessing to be part of.

Anyways, the bro in the box, topped himself nearly 3 years ago. I’ve written about him before, and generally try not to delve into his story…as its his story, and he can’t tell it anymore. But as it pertains to me…well, that’s different. And as it pertains to my relationship with his ‘bro’, my partner, that’s a different thing too.

When the partners bro topped himself there was the disbelief phase, the tears, the grief, the anger…all in circles and roundabouts they came. He left behind 4 beautiful children; then nearly 3 all the way up to nearly 17. The kids had their dad for a year…and is the ‘custom’ (loosely said…), he was supposed to be put in the ground after that year had passed.

There was disagreement about where he should lay…whose urupa (family cemetery) he should be at. But these disagreements were just the tip of the ice berg(s) really. Some of the family said he shouldn’t be buried anywhere because of what he had done to himself. Some said he shouldn’t be cremated and left in the box to be sitting on a shelf somewhere (that somewhere is our house btw!).

But what prevails really…is denial, grief and anger.

And me. My point of view. For the family…I get it. Both sides. His and theirs. But he’s dead now. And he’s gathering dust on our shelf. How respectful is that to anyone?

Then theres the ‘my’ opinion pertaining to ‘the partner’.

I watch him wrangling with denial and disbelief…and then swinging into anger and grief and disbelief. He asks himself ‘why’ and ‘wtf’ in the most manly of ways lol. And that hurts me. Seeing him hurt.

And then theres the ‘mine and the partners’ view of the whole thing.

When the bro arrived here, I blessed his box and gave him the rules (yes I believe the dead can still hear us). I told him if he played up he’d have to go to the shed. Then we made room for him on the shelf in our lounge. The partner put his bros photo up and a few mementos. A miniature shrine is what we ended up with. But it was only going to be for a year…while the daughters decided where their dad should be laid to rest.

We deal with the grief differently than most I suppose. Don’t get me wrong…we’ve done our fair share of ‘why would he do that to himself…to his family…to his BFFs’. And then we talk to the bro…usually call him an asshole or a fuckwit followed by generally taking the piss out of the whole situation…we’ll tell him he can pick his task for the week…door stop…or foot rest…or cup holder…then we say to him, ‘hey if you’re gonna stay here, you need to pull your weight…’, all with a bit of a tear and a laugh. But under all that jest…it hurts the partner…more than me. I hurt, because he hurts. And laughter helps him to process all that stuff that he can’t explain sometimes…

But now, nearly 2 years have gone by and the bro has gathered dust on the shelf…and I wonder why they haven’t asked for him?

And that’s what me and the partner got to talking about.

For all the family’s disagreements about where their son, father, uncle, nephew…should lay to rest…none of them have actually faced that he is still here. That this dude topped himself. He thought to do that…because he was sad, because he couldn’t see a way out, because…we don’t know. Yes they may feel that it was a self fish act of violence against himself and against them…but we will never know…

And leaving him to gather dust on the shelf…

Well, now that’s sad.

For whatever his reasons were, he was a loved friend of the partner. And I get the family’s grief…but I think we get a say now…

So my real opinion, as it pertains to me…and my experience with suicide and death and love and depression and feeling sad and being trapped and…

I think its cruel to leave him locked up in that box for this long…when what he was looking for to begin with was…freedom.

Who are we to keep it from him now?


kpm ©