.

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

page break


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.


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.
.
.
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.
.
.
All she needed was protection.
To feel safe.
Ok.
Protected.
.
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.
.
.
In the meantime .. we tryna grow our own selves up.

.
.
.


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.


kpm©

Image

she / her .. them

surreal ..
is that what I feel.
not sure.
.
seems to sum up the whole of this sitch_ation.
.
it feels familiar af.
foreign af.
heavy af.
.
i think i can hear my tipuna.
the kuia i heard in the stars
@ the start of this multifaceted fuckery.
.
i said i wanted to find her.
& i heard a faint karanga.
low & easy.
.
i thought that meant, physically, I’d find her.
.
but i don’t think that’s the dilly now.
.
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.
.
pre white.
pre invasion.
pre.
.
ae.
that kuia.
as a kotiro,
before they came & destroyed her world.
.
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.
.


kpm©

Image

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.
.
& 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.


kpm©

Image

& 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.
.
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.


kpm©

Image

& 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.


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 …

.


kpm(c)

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.


kpm©

Sooooo. .

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


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


kpm©

Image

is ..

My tears are thick
My body, irritated.
Muscles, they ache.
My chest is heaviness.
Down to under my ribs, it heaves.
Throbs.
Screams.
But silently.
My stomach knots.
Tight, like my fists.
My thighs.
My calves.
All recoiled.
Solid.

And that is it’s existence.

Trying to be gentle with myself, is like ..
Like.

A bad fucken joke.


kpm©

here’s a dream for yah .. yup I still have em

fuck face was dead. id halved him to put in a box to put outside.
noone cared.
Then he woke up.
But different.
.
Cut to my Nan and grandad’s old place.
.
Aunty N .. came gave me a letter and a hug. @ Front porch of Nan’s old place.
.
A Big hug.
.
Another person, unnamed, came to some where .. where I was at,  motel or place we were all watching kapa haka. Moko was little. But acting grown.
.
Person came in and said ok I’m here to discuss .. something .. sounded like it was going to be friendly .. and then they said ..
.
Something like, youre mental health or you’re mental state is shit because you won’t agree with me.
.
As they started in though, fuck face came in, there were others, my daughter’s and grand kids ..
I got angry.
I let this person talk for ages. Rave on.
.
Everyone was looking at me walking around, pacing and this person was getting high off their own speech.
But they sounded absurd.
.
Then I let rip. Finally.
.
Said ‘tell me why’, in a big big voice, ‘why I went off the rails as u say .. got rebellious .. naughty’ ..
I was yelling ..
‘What age did that happen, do you remember.
Do you fucken remember when that fuck first hurt me.
No.
Have a guess. Nice and loud. Was it,
7, no, mokos age, no, lower .. lower .. 3 – 4 ..
And what did you do
What did you do.’
.
Noone moved.
They just watched.
They weren’t uncomfortable.
I was getting louder though. Not crying. Bit visbly angry.
‘What did you do when I came and told you.
What did you say
Did you stop going there.
Did you tell him off.
Did they fuck face?
No.
On and on.
And you have the the fucken cheek to be here telling me I’m mentally incompetent.

Fuck you.”
.
& That was the end of my dream.
When I woke up my throat felt different.


kpm©

truth

I’ve spent a lifetime
Mapping what to do next.
Also known as,
Evasive manouvres.

And now you telling me to stop it.

How about, how to make peace with it.

Or to utilize it for something else.

Cos it is literally part of me.

The angst comes from trying Not to be that & remove it.


kpm©

said it before , say it again, just cos

Simple clear functional spaces are my safe places / spaces.
Minimal.

So fucking minimal.

It’s a Calm space.


kpm©

eyeball rolling

so busy,

apparently necessarily ..

managing symptoms .. patching up holes ..

we can’t dismantle or eradicate the ’cause’.

Apparently.

Or even hold it accountable.

now that’s some bullshit.


kpm©

telling & retelling my story.

Me.
Healing my body.
Healing my story.
Narrating my own healing.
.
Whatever comes & whoever it comes for, after all that talking, & all the work ; is gravy.
.
.
Cos
First contact & awareness with my uterus, was forceful invasion.

She has carried that ever since.
Guarding.
Protecting.
Cleansing.
Growing.

She won’t ever not.

Even as she prepares to close her biological functions
She can prepare to let go of the maemae she has held until she could enact her memories.

All hail.


kpm©

& &

You sick filthy fucks.

Period.


kpm©