& today, as in actual today ..

today was abit of a sicky day .. hormones have decided to commence fuckery again, after a nice long interlude .. of which i am grateful.

but whilst i was ailing around on the couch, consoling myself with hot water bottles & herbal teas, i listened to someone outside, constructing something lol. construction noises, of the modern day kind, would usually fucketh me off, but this symphony of construction was of the old school kind.

& it bought back dozens of forgotten memories of my grandfather & uncle (the good one).

both were builders & builders before there was skill saws & pile drivers. they were the kind that could traverse a concrete pad to a wooden wall to a roof to window to plumbing pipes. & all the while today, as i listened to hammers & an old saw cutting through something, i was reminded of sunday afternoons, listening to grandad constructing something useful – cos everything had a worthy purpose back then.

i could smell the wood & the concrete & the hammer on the nails .. i could hear the odd ‘buggar it’ & counting of measurements .. & i felt the awe of watching him create with his hands something out of all that ‘mess’, as nan would call it. he was so clever. so confident. 

& i miss him, & my uncle.

but i’m pleased i have memories. good memories. of good men doing good things.

kpm ©


pity party .. y’all invited

think its a pity party, but really, more bordering on a big motherfucking reality check.

& please note, this is a bit of a run on from the previous post … it added to my present fuckery.


so, i’m completely down with the ‘upholding the brothers’ & strengthening their resolve to support mental health, awareness, education etc etc. yes, its about time you fuckers cried & let that shit out.

biological women & WOC, all over the world are way over waiting for yous to drop the facade & be real.

with that said, are yous expecting us to teach yous how to do that?


& now on the personal note:

cos y’all didn’t want to support me. in fact you made it 100% more difficult to remain alive, well, living, surviving, thriving.

& yet, here i am.

still ‘unwell’, but surviving, bordering on, thriving.

& now yah want support. & now you want sympathy. & now you want help.

but not the kind that you struggle for, fight for, hunt for … but the kind yah mama didn’t give you.

the kind our mamas didn’t give us.

& yet, here i am.

& yes, this is a tale of my journey. but its a tale of so many fucking biological women & WOC it’d take all day to regale them all.

dont get me wrong. i won’t hold up your process or demean your process or put blocks in front of your process. … like you did to me … but i aint actively letting you suck the life outta me so you can stand on your own 2 feet & tell everyone ‘I did it by myself & my way’. cos yah didn’t.

you were a cunt. an absolute cunt who who refused to deal with thine own fucking shit. who refused to own & change it.

& now your old & twisted.

& fucked.

& expect others to do for you what you were unwilling to do for them.

i’ll leave it there.

kpm ©


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 ©


no i’m not

contrary to popular belief

i am not here for:

your pleasure

your ogling

your hands

your dick.

i am not here for:

you to tell me to smile

to act like a lady

to speak quieter

to be quiet.

i am not here for:

you to moan at

to cry too

to comfort

to console.

i am not here for:

you to learn

to observe

to quote

to re write.

i am not here to:

teach you about me

usher you around the edges

coddle and envelope


i am here

because I am here.

No more.

No less.



why is it?

Why is there an overwhelming ‘need’ to diagnose and ‘treat’ women?

To be quiet.

To be seemly.

To be tempered.

To be polite.

To be nurturing.

To be loving.

Why the fuck can’t they just be?

Be fucking angry.

Be fucking violent.

Be fucking loud.

Be fucking rude.

Be fucking hostile.

Be fucking emotional.

Why are the things that are ok for men are seen as ‘crazy’ for women?

Like speaking their truth.

Like saying No.

Like disagreeing.

Like crying.

Like screaming.

Like beating the shit out of some asshole.

We react. We are. We want. We hate. We rage.

That doesn’t need a fucking diagnosis.

& definitely doesn’t need fucking treatment.

kpm ©



this happened:

one big ass earth quake.

i don’t like earthquakes.

no, not at all.

and the partner … strolls around the house after the shaking stops. then looks at me, serious as, and says:

‘so, do you want pizza for dinner’


i’m still shaking and feel like vomiting and he wants to eat!

couldn’t go and get pizza so cooks himself a feed …


gave me a laugh though, and lightened the panic attack. on a positive note : i didn’t freak out to bad like the last lot of earthquakes we had … those cunts had me in a state of pts(d) shock for months!

but hoping they don’t make a return to soon … i’m still gathering up my feng shui!

kpm ©



Yes, All Men…Until You Prove Differently

A sweet “Amen” to this one!

For More please visit https://afrosapiophile.com and you can follow the author of this piece: TaLynn Kel whose links are at the bottom of the article.

TaLynn Kel is an Atlanta based, badass black feminist who enjoys liberated thought, especially those of Black women.  She’s also a renegade cosplayer.”


I recently had a paradigm shift. I have decided to limit my collaborations with men. All men – unless they are going to fight for my visibility and recognition.

It sounds weird to say it aloud, but it’s a logical choice. We live in a misogynistic culture that habitually ignores Black women, and I’ve found that this is true with men regardless of race or sexuality. Men are listened to more, acknowledged more, and given credit for activities of which they were a minor part, and they feel entitled to that credit.

Not only do they feel entitled to it, pointing this out leads to accusations of jealousy, excessive ego, and man-hating. I’ve been told it’s not their fault and that I’m misreading the situation. That I’m impatient. That I need to get over myself. They’ve tried to convince me that if I’m not getting recognition for my efforts, maybe…

View original post 837 more words

OM fucken G

how thick
can one man be.



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 ©