mental health professionals love quoting animal euphemisms when recommending we adopt certain ‘healthy’ behaviours, like vulnerability. Since I know virtually nothing about animals, my question is : what 5 animals willing make themselves vulnerable to a predator or an environment, in order to learn a valuable lesson.

rhetorical question.


qt .6

we are all different.

thats how its supposed to be.

kpm ©



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 ©


1 thinks.

citing the old :  “but we’re all members of the human race” line, is like shopping in supre’ & believing the ‘one size fits all’ label.


kpm ©



the beauty lays in the difference.

kpm ©


its just difference … aint it

An awkward sensation ; learning  that those who you thought may have loved you … whatever that means … well cared about yah anyways … that their idea of it … and your idea of it … are completely different.

I don’t mean that they’re wrong or that you’re wrong .. or even right. Just different.

And then one day you look up and think: I don’t believe this … I don’t agree with this: when did I start tolerating it?

Ahhh, that’s right.

When you became vulnerable. Sick and vulnerable. Sick, weak and fucking vulnerable.

And instead of looking else where, you went with the option that seemed more palatable. Plausible. Doable.

But what was the price?

kpm ©







Homai to Aroha


Strange old times … shits good … but shits strange. Good, strange lol.

My art has always been a bit of a love hate relationship … but I think thats because it’s my emotion … and it’s about the only way I know how to do emotion.

I can bullet point emotion … and possibly even explain it from a cognitive point.

But I don’t feely feelings.

And up until recently I thought that was ‘wrong’; because the ‘quo’ will tell us that we should be less compartmentalised and all balanced and whole and shit.

And … then I figured out that that is some bullshit.

Don’t know whether it’s more colonial bullshit or just bullshit made up by some wanker who thought they were right.

How do I know its bullshit?

Because none of Us is the same. Not even slightly. We all process experiences differently … even hear differently lol … thinking of the latest Yanny versus Laurel debate haha.

None of us Do the same … doesn’t it then go figure that we are going to do emotion differently?

Well it does to Me now … and I’m Ok with it.

My art is my ‘feeling’, and embracing that has made Me appreciate my process more, instead of dreading it.


kpm © : ig @kpm-artist


ahhh okay … lets talk gender – trans and / or otherwise

I think I’ve written about this topic before, but possibly in amongst other ramblings and not a direct action as such … and I’m not really keen on ‘highlighting’ or repeating myself … this is more an exercise of ‘get that shit off’ve your chest now … clear your head … then respond …’

The topic being ‘transgender’ technically, but really, for Me, this has more to do with ‘difference’ and how those that ‘view’ the ‘others’, are doing that viewing and verbalising.

Why the post?

My NewsFeed at the moment is way over-populated with what I’d call ‘transgender – homosexual – difference’ abuse. And as I’m scrolling I’m thinking … ‘how the fuck did this happen … in my NewsFeed anyways’ … yes I know the ‘conversations’ (I use this term loosely) are happening … but it seems I am now in a position of having to decide on a position which I thought I had made pretty clear to anyone and everyone who asked re that positioning, and knew Me at all.

But apparently Not.

Now my bad, if I was not clear via posts and past in person conversations, so just to clarify, this is what I believe (Note: What “I” Believe … you are entitled to have differing beliefs)

  • Gender is a societal construct
  • Biology has Nothing to do with Gender

Wait … What?

Yes, I hear y’all saying …

“but gender and biology have everything to do with each other!”

Ahhh … Do they?.

You see, in my opinion, whether you put us in a dress or a clown outfit or a suit … we are still going to perform biologically, as we should, until we don’t. For biological ‘women’ that means our uterus starts to perform a monthly cycle of ovulation and period-ing; it means our breasts become equipped to fill up with milk so they can feed our off spring, if we become pregnant and give birth. Theres a whole lot more technical shit that goes on inside of us but I’m not good with technicals. You get my drift I’m sure. So how we dress, or how we act, or how we speak have absolutely no effect on how those biological happenings happen.

As a biological ‘woman’, who is now transitioning through menopause and will soon (hopefully!) cease to ovulate thusly the monthly ‘visits’ will also cease as my reproductive phase draws to an end … do I cease to be a gender identified Woman as so assigned to Me by the societal constraints? If I happen to grow a beard during that process, does this make Me a biological ‘man’? Or am I something in between?

I have personally been fighting the ‘gender constraints’ and ‘assignments’ ALL of my life, and this is the where the Feminism sort-of-kind-of fits in. Feminism has been / is my response to misogyny, and that isn’t just aimed at men! Not only has my response to being assaulted come from a biological womans perspective, it has come from a biological woman who has argued with every single cunt who has asked Me if I am a Miss, Mrs or Ms. You see, that is a gender assignment and has to do with keeping Me in the kitchen, my legs spread or a possible off limits lesbian. Crude examples I know, but you should be getting an idea of what I’m getting at.

Which brings Me to the ‘Trans’ debate.

For Me: There isn’t one.

As a biological woman who is transitioning through her natural phase of reproductivity, on to something else, I am not interested in assigning a ‘role’, or adding to what I believe is a growing prejudice that has spawned out of good old ignorance and fear, yet again.

So back to the point of this post …

I can scroll on over awkward opinions given about the ‘transitioning transgenders’, if they are opinions being shared in order to glean understanding about each other and another perspective.

I can not, and will not scroll on when it comes to blatant ‘gay – bashing’ (which by the way peoples, is So last century) and / or the degradation of a way of life and culture that you are not willing to understand and in all actuality, have not been asked to give an opinion on.

My position is:

I can’t and won’t agree with you opinions or your bigotry.

I won’t teach you. My experience is a biological womans experience. I am not a transitioning person per se, and am therefore not qualified to give a qualified opinion!

However … I won’t put up with your ignorance and bigotry and will remove You from Me and my world.


  • Please Note: My only discrepancy with medical transitioning is with children. I don’t believe any child should be medicated and ‘adjusted’ so they can ‘fit in’ with a ‘Norm’. How about We change those ‘Norms’ so they can be free to be themselves, and when the time comes and they are Not children anymore, and if they still chose too, are supported in medically transitioning and empowering themselves.


kpm ©







Homai to Aroha


So this is the haps:

I was gazing out the kitchen window (yes, still far too peopley to be out during the day (light) …), pondering, again, on the mindfulness thingy … trying very hard to be all reflective and shit …

And I see this awesome little shrivelled up poppy, which of course is doing it’s seedy thing. Ok I said to my pontification-al self; “thats your photograph!”

So I bumbled about, get my camera and go to take an ‘epic’ photograph … ‘cos thats what we’re trying to master … mindful epic-ness – Yah ;)

So I focus my trusty little Canon Power Shot SX120 IS, and the macro is freaking out ‘cos the winds blowing like an uncooperative bitch and the shrivelled up poppy is waving about like … ‘come on epic one, try take a decent shot … hahaha’ …  but I don’t give up … it’s one of my super powers!

20 odd clicks later and I figure I must have a decent shot in there … fuck mindfulness … I need the shot!

I shove the SD card into my Mac and they all pop up … and here’s what occurs to Me:

Whilst we’re busy trying focus on the one thing, we miss out on whats going on in the peripheral. 

They’re both beautiful in their own ways …

Here’s to appreciating all views and all things from different perspectives ;)

kpm ©


i often wonder about the patriarchy


Yes. Yes I do.

I wonder sometimes if I was a middle to upper class white guy, how much different my world would look right now.

Bare with Me.

Would the pts(d) have gone undiagnosed for so long?    … No.


Because as a middle to upper class white guy, I would have had access to some dam fine resources; both personally and professionally.

Would a middle to upper class white guy had his bank insurance denied because of a ‘pre-existing condition’, that was not diagnosed by a ‘professional’? …. No.


Because he just wouldn’t have! Thats why! And technically speaking, refer to the above reasons.

Professionally speaking, as a middle to upper class white guy, would a “medical discharge” from my profession been my only available option? … Also No.


a. There would have been another ‘niche’ for Me to fill that required ball sacks only. b. There would have been professional avenues extended to Me as an ‘executive’ with ‘formal qualifications’. c. The doors of opportunity would have been thrust open, using my ‘incapabilities’ as an avenue for ‘climbing the ladder’.

As a person with a lack of ball sacks, were these things offered? … No.

Instead, motherhood was a ‘hinderance’ and stifled my ladder climbing abilities apparently.

Although aptly qualified, those became ‘over’ qualifications.

And although security and safety were sadly lacking at my place of employment, and probably led to the re-awakening of pts(d) panic fucks; I was instead asked about my hormones … whether I was having issues at home … whether I was to ‘small’ to work in this environment … and whether my dress code was in need of de-sexualising.

I worked in a kiddy prison for boys aged 14-17, for 4 years and if I had’ve known I had pts(d) prior to working there, I would have re-thought my strategy. Instead I walked in blind, to a patriarchal, systemically misogynistic and racist system, that I was unprepared for.


And here I am.

Qualifications still framed on the wall; breathing deeply so the anxiety doesn’t become unbearable … typing away, so I don’t dwell on this shit all day … trying to figure out how on earth I’m going to pay for my tooth to be pulled out … and looking down the barrel of Christmas, again, as a 40+ year old biological woman, whose hormones are fluctuating like fuckery, who owns virtually nothing but the computer gifted to her by her shrink; holes in her undies a massive headache and sweet fuck all to offer ‘the world’.

And … I can’t even say “At least I have my health”.

Days like today … I really do think that being a middle to upper class white guy would’ve been nice.


Please Note: No middle to upper class white guys were harmed during the writing of this post.

kpm ©


same sex marriage

thought about writing something long winded,

yah know, condemning the haters

tryna educate the religiously deluded:

a small speech on freedoms and privileges

that aren’t exclusively owned by


but then i got tired.

i got a big ass headache.

i felt the weight of their ig’nance

muddying up my waters.

i scrolled on,

and left them to their prayers for




gender nonconformists …


we don’t need your permission

or prayers

to love

who we love.


not then

not everyone

is born

during the



we’d all

see it

the same





the stories

of being born

on a sunny day,

as the trees blossomed,

and the birds


is not my


i’m not a sunny one.

being born

under a new moon,

as the elders

sang songs

and did rituals

of blessings:

is also not




i was
























how do you tell

a birth story

like that

at a dinner

party ay?




meeting aliens

So, yesterday I met 2 different sets of ladies from our community.

Let me just say, for me, that in itself was huge. I would have usually taken off and not stuck around for the main event, but this time I did.

The first set of ladies were ‘my peoples’ … I understood how and what they spoke.

The second set were ‘not my peoples’ …  I didn’t really understand them … their speech … their affluent air and rolling hand gestures … their smiles and giggles.

What was even more interesting, was watching the interaction between these two sets of ladies. The ‘my peoples’ ones, once introduced to the ‘not my peoples’ ones, all of a sudden became … morphed into something completely different.

Their language changed … they started to ‘giggle’ … their conversation changed from chatty, to flouncy. They separated themselves from ‘me’ and moved the 2nd set of ladies over to the other room to continue their conversation.

And as I watched the interaction unfold … I wondered what the fuck was happening?

I had thought the 2nd were not really ‘real’ … because to me, they were out of my comfort zone. However, as this conversation carried on, they didn’t change their manner, their speech, their demeanour. They remained themselves. While the ‘my peoples’, changed completely.

I was astounded.

When the interaction was over and everyone waved and laughed their fair wells, one of the ‘my peoples’ ladies came over and said something interesting-er.

She looks at me and says .. ‘I had to change my face for a moment there. They’re some of the communities wealthiest and are potential clients. Got to keep them happy’.


Is that what all that was about? Is this really how it works??

I felt nauseous.

I think I misjudged who the alien species actually were.

I’m still slightly confused.

kpm ©


is there a right way?

left to right

right to left




and round

is any of it




or not?


or different

time tells



it just all be





no struggle

to be

just me



and then the argument started

So I cried like a bitch through the emdr…all cathartic and stuff…and draining…

And when the shrink left I made a cuppa and headed straight outside for a ciggy.

And, apparently the shrink had shooed away my partner during our session…I was in the middle of the finger waving and earth trembling break through shit…and…

that had pissed the partner off something terrible!

“Waved away in my own fucken house…I was looking for my fucken keys…how dare she…she’s just upsetting you anyway…your still miserable…and you’re not getting any better…and I still haven’t found my fucken keys…and why does she come here anyway…ahh that’s right, you can’t drive…fuck…and I still haven’t found the keys…”

Yeah…so we’ve had 24 hours, post emdr, arguing the fuck out of car keys…

But actually…

after all my insecurities dissipated slightly, and I refocused…

not before I had hurled the old…”I told you I had a fucken appointment today…one fucken hour and you couldn’t wait to find the fucken car keys till after…fuck you”

Yeah, that was a winner.

But back to the refocusing…

This man does not process like…well, like me…because, he isn’t me. He verbalises and attacks with his big mouth…I write. His mind is what I call a huge fucken shambles and I don’t understand why he can’t analyse stuff and connect the dots…but he’s not me; he calls me an anal fucker! That’s how he sees how I see things…


Refocusing –

  • We’re about to move out of our house…to…fuck knows where
  • You have just been told you have a tumor in/on your spine
  • You are used to working…hard…now you can hardly walk
  • You are tired
  • You worry about me and get frustrated with me
  • Your generally taken for granted by your peers and your family

How do you not join those dots together my dear? Ah, that’s right…your a man…a man who thinks old school…that he should provide and take care of and be everything to everyone and talk and laugh and make everyone happy…and when you lose your car keys…

everything falls apart.

We’re tired now…but I’m not leaving your ass today and your not leaving my ass today.

We live to fight another day…pun intended.

kpm ©