Down Twisting Rabbit Holes

DoWn TwIsTiNg RaBbIt HoLeS

eVeRyThInG i CoUld NeVeR tELl YoU
iS lOsT dOwN tWiStInG rAbBiT hOLeS

YoU sMiLeD wItH LiPs Of BrUiSeD wAtErMeLoN
YoUr WhIsPeReD wOrDs PiErCeD ThRoUgH tHe CaGe Of My HeArT

sHaTtErEd PiEcEs HeLd ToGeThEr
bY a SpIdErWeB oF fRaGiLe GoSsAmEr

tHe PiErCeD sKiN BLeEdS
sTiTcHeS CoMiNg LoOsE

i StAnD oN tHe EdGe
My LiPs SoFtLy taSte ThE sOuNd Of yOuR wOrDs


© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning

Tango on the Lips

At first I was attracted to the shape and form of the letters in the word,

with curvy vowels anchored by strong consonants,
the word that came to mind was tango,
a beautiful woman held gracefully by the strong arms of her partner,

Before even reading the word, my lips were softly tasting the sound of the letters,

cool clean water with a subtle sweetness exploding on the end of my tongue,

I mouthed the letters out slowly in the first steps of the tango,

the man pulled the woman closer into his body.
her soft curves melted into his hard muscles,
as he pulled her in even tighter he started moving,
his body carrying her graceful form with him,

I whispered out the syllables into pairs and triplets,

the dancers slipped into an effortless and intimate elegance,
the dance was coming into its fullness,
the dancers had no eyes for anyone but each other
and only the beautiful sounds of the whispered word reached their ears,

e L e u T H e R o M a N i a

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning.

(Origin: Eleutheria – Freedom, Greek)
noun; an intense and irresistible desire for freedom.

*Featured Image: Tango Nuevo I by Pedro Alvarez*

The Pen

I saw words in the ink
I wrote until the spiderweb tore
I wrote until their bloody cage broke
I wrote until their blood flowed
I wrote until I set them free
I wrote until their story breathed

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning.


You walk away,
I wait


The world breaks apart
The groaning earth cracks
The heavens tear asunder
Eyes burning with the sting of salt
My chest aches, the muscle of my core cracks
Bile rises up in me
Rivulets of Blood flow in a cage of ribs
Claws of Malice grasp into the beating muscle
Spilling my life through its talons
Terrible keening fills the air , something is dying
Eyes drowned in tears
I stumble in a half run
seeking the dying creature
The agony of its violent pain deafens me
Crowds surround me, mouths moving, mute
their faces are blank, deaf to the cries of the dying
Talons are clawing at the broken muscle struggling in my chest
I fall, My mouth is open, my heart pleads in agony
The broken thing lies fallen, curled in a womb
Cries as old as the earth tear out of my mouth – echo tears in my heart
The heart struggles in weakness,
Salt crystals grate into my cheeks
I watch as the hand tears open from within me
heart lies next to me, dull and grey
curled in a womb
the tide of tears from the grotto deep within
rises in a flood out of me, drowning the shadow of my heart
silence – cold, hollow finally stills the creature
soft whimpers are the only echo
lying, a curled up husk in a womb
sorrow covers its naked form in heavy layers
blanketing the creature complete
the stitching of sorrow is the thread of your love
pulled tight through the needle of your cruelty
yours are the talons rending my core into shattered remains
my heart lies without, torn from me
dull, greying muscle
– a heart dying
– a husk curled in hate’s womb
– a creature hidden in sorrow’s quilt

*Published online in Undead Poets Society, August 9, 2010 by last_lines

© All rights reserved Kim Koning.


The soldiers are unseen
Camouflaged in skin
Their weapons are lethal
They are elements of torture
They have captured me
Stretched out on a rack
Every muscle screams in protest
Every muscle held in a vice-like grip of agony
My jaw is locked shut
My eyes are blinded as the blades enter
My mouth is slack with pain
My fists tied down, tightly clenched
The torture has only just begun
My body fights to find an inner strength
The needles pierce the back of my neck
I am held in place, too weak to struggle
I try to call out for mercy
I am ready to confess anything
The needles enter my skull
There are hundreds of them
The prison is too bright for me to see
Shadowy figures surround my body
Slowly I feel the needles draining my veins
I try to release the bindings on my limbs
They use my body as a pincushion
I have no more strength to fight
I can feel the weakness take over
My mind tries to fight, to shout
I open my eyes
I stare into blinding white light
The needles in my skull blind me
Bile rises up from my empty insides
I search for the unseen enemy
These faceless soldiers dealing in torment
I open my eyes and see a figure before me
It looks familiar, a faint echo of disbelief
The reflection is myself
My very flesh the rack of agony
I lose hope, I lose the battle against my skin and bone
My body is my battleground, my flesh the enemy torturing me

*Published online in Undead Poets Society, August 9, 2010 by last_lines

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning.

Death’s Last Breath | The Abandoned & The Disappeared

Death’s Last Breath

Dust Devils dance a macabre dervish

Tumbleweed twists in torment

Ghosts of the Disappeared stalk the streets of Death

Screams of silence fill the graveyard of the Abandoned

Gates creak open with unearthly screams

Come down to the Graveyard

Coffins spill their bone chilling secrets

All Hallow’s Eve draws near

The battle-worn stone sentries slumber

It lies waiting for the fire in the sky to die

The soft light seduces it’s midnight soul

Golden eyes filled with scorpions wait

It longs to drink the light, to swallow its darkness

Beware the lost Spirits

Slipping through the open spaces

Tread softly past their places of rest

Do not disturb the Abandoned and the Disappeared

The gargoyles screech their unbridled glee

The ravens cackle and call

The dragon forged in the fires of molten metal shatters

In its shroud of twisted metal a creature stirs

Deathly grey skin covered in bloody thorns

It lifts its heavy head and opens eye eons shut

Twin black crevices entrance me nearer

The twin crevices swallow my thoughts

This thing of death twists through my broken mind

Visions of desperate violence assail me

Strange unearthly places not yet forseen

This will be the place where my spirit flees

my place of death

Twisting its way through my thoughts

Its thorns tangle and tear at my deepest fears

The broken city shrinks into nothingness

The silence that drinks my dreams stalks me


a whisper, a whimper

I stumble blinded into an empty classroom

The whimpering comes from the corner

I claw at my eyes desperate to see

The red mist lifts unveiling him

A boy, emaciated, shrunken yellow skin

He scratches at his gaping mouth, breath wheezing through in a whimper

The basket ball net twists tighter trapping his spirit

The witching hour draws near

The boy grasps desperately for me

His eyes pools of terror waiting to drown me

The anthracite sky parts, moonlight forms a ghostly finger

The rustling of pages makes me turn

A bible lies before me abandoned in the ashes

“In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.”

The creature twists dementedly in my mind

Its thorns tear through my skin in desperation

Molten fire flows through my being

The creature shrieks until my ears bleed

The pages before me rustle again, I look down

“He will swallow up death in victory;and the Lord GOD will wipe away tears from off all faces; and the rebuke of his people shall he take away from off all the earth: for the LORD hath spoken it.”

The liquid fire swirling in my being drowns the desperate creature

Its thorns tear an escape through my bleeding eyes

It leaves behind a trail of yellow mist and silence swallows its remaining screams

The veil of red mist lifts from my eyes, the room is filled with luminous moonlight

A small hand slips into my still bloody hand

The boy looks up at me, his eyes now flawless twin sapphires

He pulls me down, then whispers in my ear

“The battle is won

Death is destroyed

Lost spirits are free to rest”

He slips away with one last smile embraced in joy

My head hits the ground before I know I have fallen

A crown of thorns lies next to me

The silence is broken by the sweet singing of Seraphim

I breathe my last breath

It is done.

My spirits dances free of the caging skin and broken bone

I fly free on wings of eagles into the bright new dawn.

All Hallow’s Gate is closed.

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning


Tread softly past their resting places…

Do not disturb the Abandoned & the Disappeared.

Lightning Dusk

Lightning strikes dust

Finger of God touches Man

Life and Death –

Haiku © Kim Koning.

The Divine Orchestra

Steam rises from the barren ground
Liquid sand boils in an earthen cauldron
Molten fire swims in a deep river
The air above the toiling caldron stills
Not a bird calls nor do creatures stir,

The waxen earth beats to an ancient drummer’s heartbeat
Nature’s choir hums a song of still serenity
The winds breathe and tremble a Beethoven sonata,

Air that stirs with a thundering Bassoon
Clouds gather and clash with clanging cymbals
Curtains drape the air in folds of darkness
The stage is luminous in a ballet of ethereal light
Ushered in a staccato of falling liquid notes

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning

Soul Wings

If writing words are the Bare Bones of me,
then Poeme` is the ephemeral Soul of me
Bones are formed from dust
flesh out the form of my shadow
Poeme` the intangible core of my being
the breath of life to my shadow
Without the breath divinely inspired
I am but a lost thing having no heart, no core, no soul
My soul is not anchored in my flesh
but soars within the cage of my earthly body
This too is the beautiful tragedy of Poeme`
Flesh pulls the oxygen from the air
my core pulls divine inspiration into streaming flight
~ the uncaged bird is set free ~
I can no more cage this poeme`
to trap my soul in earthly realms hollows my flesh
Poeme` is life fleshed into my Bones
A place where the intangible is material
A window through which the tears of God
break open the unseen cracks in a heart
A Love divine and Light surreal
is my heart free, my soul uncaged
the Bird of Poeme` soaring into the heavenly realms.

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning


Life is not about Resistance,
Life is about Release:
Life is about Releasing the Past
To Embrace the Now.
Life is about Releasing the Lessons
To Embrace the Blessings.
Life is about Releasing the Sadness
To Embrace the Joy.
Life is about Releasing the Hate
To Embrace the Love.
Life is about Releasing the Bitterness
To Embrace the Forgiveness.
Life is about Releasing the Cocoon of Regret
To Embrace the Wings of Hope.
Life is not about Resisting your Heart,
Life is about Freeing your Spirit
To Embrace Life.

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning


Christmas Spirits

Twas the night before Christmas and as I lay down in bed I sent out a Christmas prayer.
“Christmas Spirits, both ancient and present I plead with you this dark night lit only by the moon.
My Christmas wish tonight is not for gifts of gold and silver wrapped trinkets or sweet morsels to fill my mouth.
My Christmas wish tonight is not for earthly peace nor endless sunshine and cloudless skies.
No, my Christmas wish is a touch, a kiss, a warm embrace, the whisper of my name on breath long disappeared.
My Christmas wish is for the living and the spirits to meet once more, even for a few hours.
My Christmas wish is to tell those that left me how I loved them and how I missed their presence in my life.
My Christmas wish is to hear the sweet tinkling bells of their laughter and to feel the warmth of their smiles.
My Christmas wish is to tell them that though their spirits now walk this realm and the next, their love remains alive in my heart.
Christmas Spirits, both ancient and present I plead with you this dark night lit only by the moon.” As the moon disappeared behind veiled clouds of deep grey, I fell asleep with trickling rain dripping down my cheek.
It was not long and I heard a sound and felt a warm caress dry the rain’s tears from my cheek.
A voice bent down to my ear and whispered my name and I heard tinkling laughter coming from all corners of the room.
I slowly opened my eyes and looked to see what marvel had appeared in my room under the clouded sky.
There in a bed, covered up to the chin by a heavy blanket of death-white, lay a girl with a dried tear on her cheek.
Her hair was smooth and dark against the white of the pillow and her lips were bruised as if some kiss had longed to punish them.
I heard the tinkling laughter then and looked to my side and behind me.
There were ethereal specters there all around the bed of this lost girl.
The moon had disappeared but pale light shone through their shadowy forms.
I looked back at the girl wondering where I had seen her before.
One of these specters looked at me then for the first time and smiled a smile that embraced my soul in warmth and light.
The specter’s lips did not move but a low melodious sound came from him like a cello chasing the sound of light in a moonless night:
“We heard your Christmas plea little one. You did not ask for earthly peace nor endless sunshine and cloudless skies.
You did not ask for gold and silver wrapped trinkets or sweet morsels to fill your mouth.
Your Christmas wish was for the living and the spirits to meet once more.
So here we come, at your call and as you wished…all the spirits who loved you once and missed you long.”
But dear one the living must sacrifice life itself to walk with the spirits…Your sacrifice has been a tender gift for us this Christmas Past.”
Then he stretched out his hand and he touched mine.
I trembled in fear at his words and wished to take back my Christmas plea.
I had not wished to sacrifice life, what of all those I love this Christmas Present.
His hand went right through air and though I could feel his strong grasp, there was no hand to cling to in return.
I looked down again at the lost girl lying asleep in eternity and knew that my heart would ache to feel the tears of rain or light of the moon again.
No more endless sunshine nor cloudless skies for me. No earthly peace nor gifts of gold and silver.
No touch, no kiss, nor embrace, sweet laughter, nor whispers of my name.
These specters were only veils of what had been warm breath and soft laughter, shed tears and sweet memories.
The lost girl lay in bed as the clouded sky gave way to the all seeing eye of the morning.
All around I could hear carolers singing and in the house far away I could hear mother and father calling out “Merry Christmas.”
The lost girl did not stir. Christmas Eve had come and passed taking her with it.
I watched the two people I had once known as mom and dad come running in with gifts of gold and silver wrapped trinkets spilling forth from their embrace.
I saw the woman collapse to the floor before he could catch her and the sounds that poured forth from both pulled a veil over the sun, their misery was so great.
I knew then, looking at the ugly grief of the couple where I recognised that lost girl.
She had been this same specter once before when it breathed, laughed, hoped and loved.
I took one last glance at the lost girl and the grieving couple and I bent down and whispered my forgotten name in the woman’s ear.
She shivered at the sound of my whisper and glanced wildly around searching for that missing girl
I touched the man’s arm but he shook my touch off as if a cruel thing had pierced him.
The specter who had spoken so melodiously before beckoned me once more.
The other ethereal forms had drifted off as the moon had been swallowed by the morning.
He looked at me once again and his face showed pain so great and so forlorn:
“Come child, you are no more. Now you walk the realm with those who have gone before.”
Now I walk this realm and the next longing for a warm touch, a sweet kiss and shared laughter.
I visit all the homes of my loved ones each Christmas, silently coming in with the moonlight and leaving with the sun.
I am moonlight and stardust, wind and water but ancient spirit I remain.
Heed the wishes you make on Christmas night for twas a wish such as this that took my breath…
Heed the living and love the present for the realm of spirits leaves much to be attained…
Heed the Christmas wish that regrets the past, forgetting your gift of Now but love life lest you sacrifice it.
Christmas Spirits, both ancient and present keep your silence, the living seek you out…

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning

The Passing Of Pain

The time of healing is near
yet for a distance,
Tears unshed with silent screams
Agony through the barrier of solitude.
Emotions create voids;
voids of self-discovery
Is it fear of vulnerability?
Arrows of others’ views
The bows of torment are sprung…
The clouds of time are building slowly
The torrent of healing is falling
Time strikes through
The barrier disintergrates.
As the quiet of a storm
so silence of the heart,
Focus on solitude lifts
Wounds wrap in scars.
Scars fall apart
lives weave a quilt of patchwork,
Thread sewn – meant to tear
The needle of Love
first and last
Eternal Union…

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning


Letting Go

Receding and returning
Burning, constantly churning
The feelings
ever elusive
Emotionally abhorrent
mentally abusive
An act, a mask
a tear behind a smile
The wall shutting out
the pain
the fear
My heart at odds
no hearts breaking even
Twisting and turning
my strength keeps me burning
The once insuring strength
always an alluding weakness;
The Keeper of the Walls
the key, the entry, was…
But one has touched the brick,
the wall; a barricaded entry
An allusion of uncertainty
veiled by the cool
collected calm
– Two –

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning


The Keeper Of The Walls

The Storm is moving closer
The peace, the security;
Anger strikes out knowing no reason.
The weakness to be strong
the elusive quality of tears;
a sorrow lifted.
The knowledge of the alluding strength
– my salvation –
The holy water of your tears
turns me to bitter wine.
-Goodbye –
The walls cannot crumble
The heart does not break apart, evenly
The intensity of feeling, the passionate emotion;
Nearness, togetherness…
Distance, innocence…
– Au Revoir –
To know my soul, my heart
open the windows, my windows…
Look behind the curtain
to my soul, through my eyes
– Welcome –
The Keeper of the Walls

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning.

Emotions At Tide

Undisturbed turbulence veiled by a calm tranquility,
Unleashed by the Earth’s might
Let its Spirit enfold;
Strange yet magnificent in its complexity
Known to change the essence of the mould.
The placidity, complex in the very simplicity
Known to affect the heart of the matter;
The slow ebb and flow of this inner city
One heightened wave meant to shatter.
The crest at the height
One with both the sun of the day
And the ghostly night shadowed in opaque moonlight;
Ebb and flow, ebb and flow nearing the bay.
Tumult of the heart, contradiction in the mind
Causing torment and pain with an ever-present falter;
Reason and logical thought bound as if by a halter:
Innocence borne out of knowledge
Ceased is the ability to solve,
A problem without the logic of college
All that is needed is involved;
One solution is true:
The answer of Love is the glue
meant to shatter,
in truth to matter…

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning.


~ Life is a poem ~
Inspired on the breath of Divine Creation
It shows your cracks
Through the cracks
A sliver of hope saturates your soul
~ In ugliness and in beauty ~
To breathe is both a burden and a gift
~ Living is naked honesty ~
In a film of vulnerability
A core of raw strength
~ Breathing is the whisper of the wind ~
As a miracle passes through a mirror of time
~ A life is but a seed unsown ~
Scattered on the winds of chance

Published online in Undead Poets Society, April 10, 2011 under last_lines

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning.

Kia Kaha | Stand Strong

May your strength and hope shine through and may it be a beacon to the rest of us.

May God be with you all.
May the Lord still the earth beneath your feet.
May He strengthen your foundations.
May those that are trapped be sheltered under the Lord’s wings and kept safe til they can be rescued…
May those who are waiting to hear be comforted and strengthened…
May those who are scared be encouraged to know that many, many prayers are being lifted up for your city in this hour of her need.
May God be your foundation as the ground’s foundations tremble beneath your feet.

~ dedicated to Christchurch,
a city brought to her knees but still fighting…our hearts are with you.

* Published online in Undead Poets Society, April 10, 2011 under last_lines

© All rights reserved Kim Koning.