qt .12

its definitely OK, actually more than OK; to talk about stuff that makes you & everyone else, feel fucking uncomfortable.


kpm ©


 

qt .11

you dont need a saviour. you are all you need to save yourself.


kpm ©


 

p for:

you know perseverance doesnt always look like muscles & sweat ay?


kpm©


 

Image

fight fucker

one of the most pertinent things you need to understand about me, is that i will always come back fighting.

definition: fighting. it looks different for everyone. it makes it no less or more – fight.

i might be crawling the floor today; trying to find my motherfucking sanity & trying to get out the front door … & the nek day – the nek week even, i might do that all over again. but i will eventually slap back. that may be a twist, a renarrate, a rearrange, a rework, a revisit or an old fashioned ‘FUCK YOU CUNT’.

i will always fight back.

it is how i’m wired.

the end.


kpm©


kpm © : ig @kpm-artist


 

light & dark

its not the light that connects me. its the darkness


kpm ©


 

st –

streng-

th.

“the capacity of an object or substance to withstand great force or pressure.”


kpm©


 

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hine-nui-te-po …

turns out

she was whitewashed too.

man-splained away.

somehow, her skirt was too short.

her hair was too bleached.

she was too drunk, too dumb, too …

that the assault was a necessary, if not a slightly unfortunate event.

& moving on.

they shredded her dignity, again

& told another tale.

like any tale of history,

it’s told from the point of view of the cunt who has the most to loose.

she took her ‘shame’ deep deep into the place that would enshroud

protect

and hold her.

there she became what she is known as today.

there, the untold story unfolded.

there, in the darkness

she wept, grieved.

raged, screamed.

moved, ran.

slept, hid.

then smiled, laughed.

then did it all over again & again.

until she embodied her story.

wrote and spoke her narrative.

wept and screamed her truths.

moved and broke her ground.

she, in all her fierce strength,

grace and embodied beauty,

is the hine-nui-te-po,

as explained to me,

by her.


kpm©


 

sensitives.

I come from a family of ‘sensitives’ … sensitive skin, sensitive tummy, sensitive hearing, sensitive taste … Just sensitive all round.

And then theres the ‘other’ sensitive. The one ‘they’d’ medicate or lock you up for, if you talked about it ‘out loud’.

It’s the sensitive that see’s whats supposedly not there. That hear’s whats supposedly inaudible. That can smell subtleties that no-one else can smell. That can sense what ‘isn’t’ there.

Is this such a strange phenomenon for Indigenous? No. It’s not. And prior to the Tohunga Suppression Act of 1907, the sensitivity I’m talking about was called matakite.  For mainstream though, it’s something they don’t understand and fuck up, whilst they try and understand it or distinguish it.

I always had trouble distinguishing between my dreams and nightmares and what was actually present. Both freaked Me out. And when my eldest daughter came along, and she could sense similar things, I also freaked out. Some of this was to do with the christian belief that everything that couldn’t be seen with your physical eyes, was evil; or there was something inherently evil about the ‘see-er’.

When my 2nd daughter came along, her ‘sixth sense’ about things was quite ‘organic’ and natural. It didn’t seem freaky or mystical so to speak. It just seemed normal.

By the time my mokos came along, we were all beginning to embrace what we were as pretty normal, even though we didn’t fully understand it. Moko #1 senses what isn’t seen and whats not spoken. Moko #2, can smell whats not there; she can also understand whats ‘not spoken’. Moko #3 can hear the almost inaudible; and can also see your motive; she can also sense your pain. Moko #4 can hear your motive.

And Me. Well I’m still working out the difference between whats a sensitivity and whats pts(d). But I know whats a dream now, and what isn’t. I know now, when to ask my tipuna (ancestors) for assistance and advice.

What I like the most … is that my mokos won’t struggle with all of this like I did, or like my daughter did. For them, its natural, and they’re learning how to make it work for them.


kpm ©


 

religion

religion.

you are entitled to yours.

& me mine, or lack thereof.


kpm ©


 

the stronger.

who believes they can become better, bigger, stronger

by standing on another.

the who, that believes to make another feel small, inadequate & afraid

will elevate their own strength.

their diminished, fading, exhaling

false sense of strength.

.

a wise papa once said:

come here child, let me show you.

.

& in his actions he strengthened his child

& himself.

.

where, when & how

did we lose the ability to empathise, listen & love.

when did we lose our humanity & our dignity.

our respect for life.

not just of ours,

but of those we love,

& those that have the right to be loved, aka: everyone.


kpm©


 

Link

Silence Will No Longer Ring in My Ears

An awe inspiring, most gangstah poem by an amazing poet-tress <3
Comments are turned off here; please visit ‘The Brave and Reckless’ to comment.

Brave & Reckless

I will not be silent

I will not maintain the peace

I will say the ugly words

out loud and I will not flinch

Murder

Rape

Incest

Stalking

Harassment

Discrimination

Domestic Violence

Mansplaining

Discounted simply because we are women

To find our voices as women

to speak our truth

is a revolutionary act

that says that your voice

her voice

their voices

my voice

Matter

Count

Have weight

Deserve to be heard

Are valid

If my refusal to be silent

Makes me a bitch

A shrew

A ball-breaker

Then I will be loudest damn badass bitch that I can be

Silence leaves us to blame ourselves in isolation

Silence benefits only those who have hurt us

Silence has been the noose around my neck

The soul ache of my pent-up screams of rage

Every 13th story window I have considered walking out of

How fucked up is that?!

© 2017…

View original post 7 more words

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and we’re done.

It’s a good thing.

I finally finished sifting through my blog and changes the photograph sizes. I’ve managed to save myself a shit-tonne of room for more awesome posts lol. But overall feeling pretty accomplished …

And then theres the June – August / September mish …

I am more than freaking happy to announce the arrival of number 9 moko (grandchild). He’s healthy and happy and huge. His mama and papa did an amazing job with his birth as he proved to be as ‘challenging’ as the other mokos.

My girl has had 1 natural birth and 2 c sections. She desperately wanted to birth this moko naturally. The doctors were not keen, but she insisted. They found themselves a midwife who would assist and not deter her but who would also make the call for a c section if need be.

My girl was strong. She is strong. Overall, she amazes the fuck out of Me. She got her desire and she birthed moko naturally. She is stoked and so are We!! He’s just as gorgeous as his siblings!!

For Me: I did better than I anticipated. As y’all know, I’ve taken a few months to prepare for these past few months … to make sure I can manage myself and my environment changes and the extra activity and possible stressors.

I am happy to report I am still in one piece lol … but I also managed everything way better than I expected. There were a few niggly moments when things felt slightly overwhelming … but I managed with all my new and old tools and a minimal amount of drugs, which I was super stoked about!! We’re still not home yet and won’t be for a few more days, but I’m ok. I miss my beach and the quiet, but I’m ok. Surprisingly, I am OK!

Gawd I love my familia … they are so fucking awesome! We’ve been living like an old school community for the past week … mattresses everywhere – kids everywhere – food for miles – yelling and screaming – laughing and crying – work and sleep … all together. I am soooooo proud of my girls and who they are as humans and parents and co-habitants of this planet lol … they are absolutely cool. I can’t take the credit for all of that, but I fucking love being around them.

So … tomorrow I’m on a mission to clean my girls house from top to bottom before she brings our new moko home. And then I’m looking forward to new baby cuddles which are the absolute best!!

Love and light and heaps of warm fuzzies peoples xoxo

More updates Later :)


kpm ©


 

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ewww hurt feelings …

It’s been a strange day and I was / am reluctant to be here, trying to express it … but here I am anyway.

I feel awkward … oddly enough … trying to admit I felt ratshit today. Not because feeling ratshit is bad per se, but because I don’t like admitting I had hurt feelings and that made me feel ratshit … hurt feelings for Me, feels like weakness.

Basically I feel like a little bitch … there yah go … arrghhh.

It’s so much easier to be angry or annoyed or even a bit frustrated … but hurt feelings? Not cool …

But Yes, I’m getting over myself … and … here I am.

To get to the point, today someone I know, belittled my non-ability to be able to go to the shop; to be able to leave the house; to not be able to handle the ‘crowd’. They know it can be hard for Me to go anywhere, but I am managing it … well I’m trying … and have been for some time. I have my ups and downs … I make progress and take giant plummets and try and take all that shit in my stride.

It can be embarrassing. A fully grown, once was fiercely independent and extremely capable woman, now whimpering at the prospect of traveling in the car, of having to be in a crowded space, of talking on the phone, of bright lights and loud noises … Yes, I find it fucking embarrassing, humiliating and diminishing.

But I suck that shit up and I try and try and try … and I don’t know any other fucking person who tries and tries again, as much as I do.

And I do most of this shit on my own.

I don’t have a team of experts guiding me through … or a cheer leading squad that encourages me to keep going … literally, I’d be lucky to have 2 encouraging things said to me in a month about progress or how far I’ve come, or just a friendly high fucking five and ‘can i help you at all’.

But that is the story of my life … and despite that, I still fucking get up and try again.

But today.

Today I may have just spilt a few tears.

Just a few.

It’s not that I haven’t been belittled or humiliated before … but today, it just hurt.

So I sat with the hurt for a little while. I’m not big on feelings but it seems like I gotta deal with the bastards …

And after a little while was done, I looked for something ‘good’ that I had done recently; that I could be proud of.

I got the last of my paintings out.

I smiled at them.

I smiled because they are my final 3 for the exhibition, and I like them.

I did them. I like them. And no-one can take that away from Me.


kpm © : ig @kpm-artist


 

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a.response

do not

tell me

how i should respond.


kpm © : ig @kpm-artist


 

Link

My Pledge

#throwback Nov 13, 2016 @ 11:24

Written by my friend: Johanna <3


In all my readings over the last few days, no-one has responded better, in my opinion, than this self proclaimed “old woman who happens to be white” and is “not proud of what other members of” her “race (and the electoral college) have done in electing Trump. What can I do?” <3

All Things Chronic

As an old woman who happens to be white, I’m not proud of what other members of my race (and the electoral college) have done in electing Trump. What can I do?

I pledge to stand up with every group that Trump has denigrated. I pledge to be vocal about my support for the LGBTQ community, people of color, women, veterans, the disabled, those who suffer from mental health conditions, the homeless, and of course, pain patients.

If you want to be a racist or a bigot, you cannot do so if I’m around. This has nothing to do with political correctness. This is about being a human being.

On the internet or out in public, at Walmart or in Walgreens, if you behave like a racist, sexist, or homophobe, be warned that I will call you out on it. I’m not afraid of you. You think Trump has given…

View original post 27 more words

all those times

today i noticed

how delightful all my

pieces are.

how i wish

i had appreciated

them earlier.

and some i even

wish,

i had

earlier.

my

wobbly tummy.

soft and gooey.

would’ve come in handy

when you punched it that time.

my

thick thighs.

solid and unbreakable.

would’ve come in handy

when you prized them open that time.

my

rough feet.

scaly and tough.

would’ve come in handy

when i ran away from you that time.

my

long fingers.

spindly and flexible.

would’ve come in handy

when your fingers were around my throat that time.

my

wrinkly toes.

aged and firm.

would’ve come in handy

to kick your fucking nuts in,

all those times.


kpm ©


 

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un.fucking.thyself.

Whenever I see a tree this size and shape and age, I always wonder what kinds of things it’s seen in it’s lifetime. If it grew that way because of its environment or if it was shaped that way or if it wanted to grow that way. And of course, I’ll never know for sure …

But they command respect that I can’t quite explain. They’re so big and patient and quiet, yet dominating.

Yes, I sat and stared at this one for ages … I have No idea what kind of tree it is … but I liked it … and I hope no-one chops him down any time soon … I’m sure he’ll fall of his own accord, when he’s ready.

<3


kpm ©


 

bite back

we think

we

can damage

the world?

have yah seen

the size of her?

and she bites back.

eventually.


kpm ©


 

trade

not resistance,

but

confrontation.


kpm©


 

Link

Guest Post: Liberals need to check their views on “violence”

I’m still perplexed at the idea of differing feminism … but I do wonder, if our up and coming ‘liberals’, or whatever they like to call themselves, didn’t have another club to join? Possibly?
I chose feminism, a very long time ago, as a political view / as a response / as an activist voice … I don’t particularly need a label to define what I am, however it assists with perception.
More importantly though, I chose feminism as a response, because of the ‘violence’ I had experienced, as a woman (with a vagina) … and I did not want my daughters (with vaginas) to be recipients of this type of degradation, because they were female. This is not a perception, it is a reality. It makes me wonder of our ‘liberals’ have actually experienced any type of violence other than breaking a nail?

I applaud this womans stance, and the ‘balls’ for saying it as it is!

For more on this topic and similar, please visit: https://reneejg.net

Source: Guest Post: Liberals need to check their views on “violence”