Honesty ~ A Repost From The Vault

I wanted to share an older post and found this one from 8 December 2013. I don’t remember writing or publishing it. It wasn’t tagged and it seems not a soul saw it.

I do remember now that it was almost three months to the day that I broke up with the Narcissist. Seems I was just beginning to unravel myself from the cocoon that had been woven around me.

The words stand. From this stronger place and going forward. Honesty is everything.


In retrospect, all I can say in bring honesty to a relationship
Don’t let your fear of what someone will think give you permission to not bring your true self to the table
Disguises don’t allow the bond to happen, your focus is all on appearance
You will come to resent the person you are wearing the mask for
They will never know where your anger comes from or why
When it is not they that expect it but you who won’t allow them fully in
What happens is that all the emotional investment you make in maintaining the illusion
Bleeds out of the relationship that you want so badly
All the hours and days spent in hiding, rearranging, chess-like moves and fighting
Could have been spent on loving, sharing, bonding
Don’t let a perception become your reality
Your past is past, it doesn’t define you necessarily
Someone who loves you won’t care who you slept with before
They will care that you are bringing your full and best self to them now
Don’t let the past unnecessarily shackle your present
Don’t let your fear of the unknown hijack your future
How I wish someone had told you these things long ago…
~ kei
8 December 2013

The Spider And The Lie

Oh what a tangled web we’ve woven
With words we’ve said and words unspoken
Seems I forever misconstrue
A word, an email, a touch from you

You’ve had me dangling by a thread
Bound up by the pretty words you said
Kisses that are honey dipped lies
My beloved’s face but it’s just disguise

So now it’s time to reverse the spin
I’m a fool to have let you in again
You knew my heart, of course I’d believe
It was you who loved with intent to deceive

~ kei

22 August 2011

The Spider & The Lie KbT

So, Here’s The Funny

When one of my best friends, Roz says that, we all lean in a little closer. It’s usually the cue for a hysterically funny end to a long and involved story that she’s been telling.

My long and involved story is of course, my life and times with The Poetic Predator. A “man” – and I use that term grudgingly and with no intended insult to functional, adult males of the human species – that targeted me with the express purpose of stealing from me every human emotion that he could to shore up his puny, dysfunctional, Narcissist ego.

There are so many anecdotes from the almost two-year long “relationship” that make for a good story. In the early days, one of the best is how he would often tell me about his dream for us. How he wanted to leave the “backward” town he lived in and move here to continue with his writing and to share that with me. We were going to open a bookstore / coffee shop / knitting store .

I guess some might say that me believing him is one of the funniest bits but then, a lot of people still believe he’s a writer and a great guy. They were never exposed to his rage and endless stream of abusive emails, texts and telephone calls. They never saw the fake profiles that he used on Tumblr, WordPress and Facebook – including those he created to pretend to be his own children –  to shore up his stories to me. They never saw / choose not to see, his blatant stealing of other writer’s work.

I did believe for a long time. I initially ignored the niggles of doubt and I ignored the concerns of my best friend and even when I finally began to ask questions; there was always an excuse that he made palatable, if not believable. If that didn’t work, he’d begin an endless stream of abuse, create a fake surgery, or some other drama to draw attention away from the question at hand.

Back to the coffee shop.

At the time, I had no reason to doubt most of what he said. There’d been the first introduction into my world of female stalkers on the internet and I’d been enlisted (Gaslighted) to help him with that. One in particular (we’ll call her “The Other Woman” or TOW because this is the role he cast her in), kept showing up but after several episodes of her stalking, defaming and slandering – his words – he’d initiated a lawsuit against her and two others. He’d had me block her from my social media and from his Facebook poetry page, he’d blocked her from his Facebook profile – the one I knew about. His “daughter”, and “the teachers”: “Natasha” and “Sharon” were all sufficiently chastised for keeping his Facebook Page alive behind his back. We had one of those four to six days of calm in between dramas that eventually showed up as a pattern and were in a brief “Honeymoon” stage again.

And so… the coffee shop.

I used to draw a lot and paint a little. I wanted to give The Poetic Predator (PP for the rest of this story) something to encourage him, a tangible of his dream to hang onto and mark a new beginning for us. He’d been so put upon with recent events and don’t lets forget, his horrible late wife who was unfaithful when he was overseas fighting for his country, moved another man into his home to do so. She was spoiled, wouldn’t work, spent to point of bankruptcy and didn’t want their second child and wouldn’t feed said child when he made his appearance. None of this is true incidentally, except for the part about me. There is no record of PP having ever served with the army and apparently, his spouse was still alive and kicking at this point, though where remains a mystery to this day.

As a gift to buoy his spirits I designed, sketched then commissioned, a painting for him. I pulled in the elements that he and I had often talked about, his pets, his clothing style, even his dog tags (you can get those on Ebay, by the by). I added a catchy little name for our some day coffee shop / book store venture and then sent the works off to a friend and wonderful artist for the painting bit. It’s not an accident that it’s painted in the same style as the banner for my other blog. That work is a caricature of me that Cynthia painted for me several years ago. She brought this new piece to life so well, even to the shop front. I’d sent pictures of downtown Muncie to her so she could capture that flavour.

Poetic Painting v one

I KNOW, right?!

When it was done, I was happy and excited, Cynthia too, as she’d heard the reasons for the commission and she posted it to him. The day it arrived, he was so thrilled. He called me on the collar (err, phone) that he’d given me as I was coming home from work. He wanted to open it with me – so cute – ahem, barf. He was so touched, he was crying (he could turn on tears at the drop of pants). “you,,,make me cry..Karin this means more than anything..I love you baby..Karin I’m so moved by this” (sic)
He went on with how no one had ever done anything like this for him and “Baby, it’s beautiful, our dream”. He sent a photo of himself with the painting, apologizing for the tears. He was so overcome with emotion. The painting went on his living room wall and can be seen in many of the photos that he sent to me (and god knows who else subsequently). I was so happy that he was happy. I’d poured so much effort into this gift, one that I believed to be so thoughtful and meaningful. Little did I know that the only thing that ever moved him are his bowels.

I can hear the bated breath! 😉

A short time later, I used the picture of PP with the painting in a post to mark the publication of his first non-digital book. It went up on my Facebook page with a poem and a slightly mushy blurb about dreams coming true, tra-la, tra-la, to my co-Admin, PP. (Why yes! Yes he did have access to post at will there once upon a time.) What a shit storm that caused! The post was reported – ostensibly by one of the crazy female stalkers and there were so many at this point, I could have thrown said book and hit two of them! Kidding. Only a little – reported not once but twice and precipitously removed by the FB drones. I could not understand how anyone could take an exception to the post and put it up one last time with reference to my rights to it and took a screenshot of the last (I’m tenacious!) one in the event that it was reported again. I note the date: the 2nd report was on my wedding anniversary. Narc liked to jack special events like Grandmother’s birthdays, holidays, pretty much anything that’d take the spotlight off of him (even though I’d been separated over a year at this point, he liked to rub it in when he was raging).

Fuckhead Reported Painting 2014-03-23 at 12.59.47 PM

Fast forward to January of 2014. TOW contacted me. Bless her for her bravery. For as it turns out, she’d been sold a similar bill-of-goods about me and my actions. She and I established a truce that eventually became a friendship. Both of us have found peace and some solace in being able to fill in the blanks of the worlds that the Narc created for us. One of those was about “The Painting”. Here’s what was happening on the other side of the wall.

Within days of having received my gift, he contact TOW and told her that he’d commissioned this lovely painting of himself to represent the dream that THEY had of someday living and working together!!! Imagine her shock and hurt to see the same photo appear on MY Facebook page along with my deeply personal, though professional message of encouragement!!

We two girls damn near fell out!

She conveyed to me how she had often been hurt by some of the more personal things that myself AND my co-Admin had shared there and this time, she had torn a large strip off his arse, wondering what chicanery I was up to now and why did he allow me to post these terrible lies?! He responded predictably with blowing smoke up her arse and blaming me, as TOW had threatened to leave him. It was at this time that the post was mysteriously reported and yanked by Facebook.

TOW and I put the missing bits together and concur that Narc most likely reported the post HIMSELF to shore up his flimsy story to her. This must have killed him, considering the huge volume of comments and compliments that were placed there. Conversely, when I was understandably very upset about the reports (and the loss of my poem, which didn’t exist anywhere else) he attributed the report to one of the crazy women who was stalking him and jealous of me. Neat trick right? Poetic Predator was a whiz at orchestrating “twofers”. Make one look crazy and placate / enlist the other..

Where the hell is the funny? Right?!

My painting. My copyrights. My wonderfully talented friend redoing the image to reflect the current state of affairs. Narc-hole and I wrote three books together. Wait for it – not one, not two but three! – I like that phrasing. One of many other things that I’ve discovered along the way is evidence of his lack of concern regarding posting work as his own that other people have written. Thankfully, I had control over the online versions and removed them from publication. As mentioned in a previous post, I’ve edited those to remove the Arse-issist’s work and am now happy to let you know that:

KB Book Cover

“Remains Of The Prey” by Karin Bole Tupper is available for purchase at Smashwords, Amazon and other fine ebook retailers. The hardcopy edition will follow shortly.

One of my favourite quotes is “The best revenge is living well”.
Personally, I never wanted revenge, I leave that to Karma.
Justice though would be epic.


From my Facebook page, “Everybody Has A Story”.

Good Reads, Good Writes…

It’s been a long time since I last did a GR,GW post. So much has happened in the last year. Life, health, home changes.
So much to be grateful for since my escape from the clutches of a terrible person and his “Laud the Fraud” club. If any biographersor P.I.’s are looking for research materials or a timely story about Narcissist Predators, Gaslighting and Internet “Catfishing”; I’m available to tell mine!

As to my own writing, I’m happy to say that the artwork is underway for my next book. I’m hoping September will be the release date. It’s significant in marking a year since my new and Narc-free life began. My life and now my writing, are free.
I wrote three books with an individual who, though prolific in their output, was not respectful of other writer’s copyrights. Unfortunately, I had to shelve the books until I could dedicate the time to reformat them without his offending work.

Happily, the time is soon approaching when I can share my words! The cover is another creative collaboration with a very talented artist and friend, Cynthia Frenette. Cynthia has brought a few of my pencil sketches to life in her signature style. My favourite to date, is her caricature of me on my craft blog Pointe Shoes Punk Rock And Purl. The rework of a painting that I had designed and sketched and then gave as a gift, promises to be a lot of fun when it’s finished. I’m looking forward to the 2.0 version!

I’ll keep you posted as things progress and as always, thank you to those who have hung in there with me.Your support during the last year has been invaluable in this journey of recovering and moving my life forward in a positive way.

Kei ~ Everybody Has A Story & The Eclectic Poet

(My previously published books are available on Smashwords, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes and elsewhere.)

Goodbye Stranger

Farewell to Ole Charlie
He will never rise again
Though ’tis rather a miracle
That his run was so long
What with so many in his harem

Goodbye black diamond promises
Rings that came and went like smoke
Though how would we have worked that
Three-way joint custody?
Really? Such a fucking joke

Oh Hai there truth for anyone to see
Only a brick could remain so blind
All so busy trying to be his confidante
Sisterhood? You crazy?
Cool, if you want to be that kind

Hello passwords, I hope that you’ll be found
Keys to the kingdom of his master hoax
Words, photos they don’t bother me
Hell! Call up my family or my friends
The pandering harem is such a joke

You want to wear the crown Honey?
Go fill yer boots, be my guest
Think you’re better than her or me?
You’re a fill-in-the-blank female
No different from all the rest

Blocking and stalking, stolen words
Faked accounts, valour and Albany
“Baby, my Princess, you’re the one. I wrote this for you”
But look! It’s revolving door poetry!
In my name’s place, a different one; or two, or three

I’ve no need to fear the truth
Because, sad dupes, I’ve got the proof
I don’t care what he said ’bout me
I’ve the advantage of evidence you see
And while you’re sitting supercilious and smug
Believing all his faerytales were true
I proofread his alternate ending
And all the things he said about all of YOU

Goodbye to doubts, so long to fears
Sayonara to all my endless tears
For after all is said and done
I know I dodge a bullet
When I left that one

~ kei
6 June 2014


We Begin

I had woken up very early, what with the strange bed, unfamiliar sounds. It took a few moments to get my bearings, the flight had been not too bad, only a little turbulence to mess with my superstitious self. Our meeting at the airport had been… just like in the novels and best Hollywood movies. I can’t remember a time before that when I had been so nervous, seems funny in the retrospect of almost twenty-four hours. I’m sure that we caused some amusement among the late night arrivals and departures. It’s been forever since I travelled alone and I was know that I looked like a lost waif with my beat up World Famous purse and a backpack that sported hand-me-down buttons and badges from punk rock icons of the 70’s and 80’s. I kind of felt like a deer in the headlights when I walked into the terminal at PDX. All the crazy thoughts and rollercoaster emotions that you get when you’re doing something a little risky, a little out of your comfort zone, a little wild… Those and more ricocheted through my brain. “What am I doing? What if he isn’t here? What if this was all a dream? What if..

All of that fell away when I saw his tall frame in front of one of the inbound flight monitors. My heart did a somersault. Good to know it still can after all this time but the weak knees were a bit of a surprise. I thought I was WAY past that. He looked even more handsome than his pictures. It was the way he moved, deliberate, contained power… and the smile that lit up his face when he dropped his gaze from the screen and looked right at me. I swear, time slowed and all other sounds and people dropped away. It was just us, looking at each other. I could feel tears coming and all the strength seemed to run out of my arms and legs. The backpack slipped unheeded from my suddenly nerveless fingers and I managed a couple wavering steps toward him, a distance that he seemed to teleport over, and then, we were in each other’s arms.

I don’t remember everything we talked about, right now it’s still a delicious blur and I just want to write down what I can and fill it in later… I’m still in a hazy, warm blanket of love and laughing and total contentment.

We drove home to his loft and I don’t think either of us took a breath between talking and laughing the entire trip from the airport. Any nervousness I’d had disappeared within minutes. We fell into our rhythm and pattern of all the last months of chatting through email, letters, etc. Me, constantly interrupting – damn ADD – and then falling all over myself to apologize, him laughing at me because it’s the same when I type or chat. We stopped at the little Thai place across the street from his building for takeaway to go with the Pinot Grigio I’d picked up at the duty-free.

When we pulled into his driveway, the butterflies in my stomach decided to try another flight pattern. We sat for a moment, listening to the engine tick down as it cooled. He took my hand in his, kissing my fingertips as he looked at me, then popping his door and tipping his head with a smile in the direction of his building said, “Your castle My Queen.”

Again, my legs seemed to have forgotten the trick to walking. Watching him grab my backpack from the car and his easy movement to the door, the heady magic that his deep lilt was weaving in my head… the lift ride up to his flat seemed to take the most delicious amount of time, all I wanted was to be in his arms.

Unlocking his door, he stood back to let me in. My breath quickened simply at being in his world, here with him at last… I dropped my bag on the floor, turning to watch him close and lock the door. He grinned, tossing the keys into the air, then tucking them into his pocket. “Home sweet home…”, he said, taking a step toward me and in that moment, looking up into his eyes, feeling the warmth and beauty of him in person, I felt like I had come home. I held my arms open to him and he swept me into his hug. The kiss at the airport terminal had held a promise of a bonfire to follow the sparks, and the flare was immediate and intense.

No more words, no need for words as his body moulded itself to mine, as my tongue found his and told him everything he needed to know. Thought burned away and only desire spoke, the last coherent words in my mind, as our bodies collided with the wall and we couldn’t tell anymore where his body ended or where mine began, was his name…

~ kei

8 May 2014


Arlington Calls

I had a friend once. A veteran who suffers from PTSD. Two years ago, I received a panicky text from one of our mutual friends as I was walking through February ice and snow to buy groceries. The call was to tell me that after several sleepless, nightmare filled nights, my soldier had put on his dress blues and was on his way to Arlington Cemetery. Speaking in tongues mostly but making clear that he wanted to know, wanted to see his final resting place. The panicked email that followed this, from my friend’s daughter just about unhinged my heart and soul. What could I do from seven hundred and fifty miles away?

This is how I remember those moments…

Walking, taking jerky steps as if I were a drunk man’s puppet
My breath wouldn’t come to fill the collapsed balloons of my lungs
I moved, through the blinding sun, with my cellphone in hand
Couldn’t let go of it because you were in it, in the resistors and wires
Wires and connections like the synapses firing, rapid fire thoughts
Thoughts circulating and revolving, mimicking the revolution of tires
I moved. Forward through quicksand. To what? Where? Too far
To bend time. touch your mind. To try to stop the slash and burn
Connected to one thought – your hands on the steering wheel. Turn!
Clutching the proverbial straw. Adrenaline overdose and raw
Nothing else to grab on to. Alone on the phone with PTSD and you
Legs could no longer carry, dropping down into the snow
Weeping to finally hear that slow and wavering hello
Bend bandwidth
Take your finger off the damn trigger!
Beg Ma Bell
Heart stuttering, fingers freezing
Begging deities, pleading, pleading
Invoking my force of will. This is my will!
Force back his hell

11 April 2014

PTSD Lover


NaPoWriMo Blog Button

National Poetry Writing Month

See more at the link above.


ETA 2014: All the things that I love that you stole from me

My faith, my love, even my ancestry

I take them back, I make them new. They never were meant for the ilk of you

Your theft may have sullied, your charade fooled some

But with these words, your evil is undone

Kateri Darkwolf, wild and free

Wolf spirited she was and ever shall be

You are not these things

Nor ever were

Now be gone

You thief



Her name is Kateri and her eyes are emerald green
Silky coat of white, a graceful vision from a dream
Waiting in regal silence for the return of her mate
Separated by circumstance, a most cruel twist of fate
Disdaining all the others, for there’s none could ever win
The love she saves for her alpha, ’til they are one again

~ kei, writing as Everybody Has A Story

22 February 2012



For You

As dawn streaks the sky with ribbons of pink against silver, my thoughts turn to you, painting pictures of your image as you lay dreaming. In this moment, I see the perfect connectedness of our souls and my heart places a bookmark on the image of your sleeping face.
You are a mystery and a conundrum to the world around you and yet, I have been blessed with reading the chapters of your story. A tale that is intriguing and endless, parts as yet unwritten. I wait with bated breath for every word and I cannot put the book down. I want to know it all, you have drawn me in from the opening lines. Pull me in deeper, let me inspire you to write the next chapter. How I long to be beside you, creating with you. We have found ourselves bound together because we were destined to be. Our souls searching for one another, neither knowing what our hearts and eyes wished for and yet, here now. The emptiness that had no name, no frame of reference is now filled with this precious gift.
We hold this gem in each of our hands, marvelling, unsure as yet of what to do with it. Our minds lit with the flame contained within, it warms our hearts and lights a pathway to our future. A touchstone that keeps us warm even in the times when we are separated by circumstance. It’s like a charm or talisman, each of us holds half just like the best of friends. We are the best of friends, my life has been blessed and made purposeful by knowing you and I cherish this every day. I no longer wander through my life as a stranger, oblivious to the power of being loved so completely.
Sleep my Beloved. I am right here at your side. You’ve taken my Watcher’s soul into your heart, joined with your Warrior’s spirit. You took my heart captive with all the colours of your love and the beauty of your words. You’ve salved the bruises of my psyche and bring life to my pen, for that you will forever be my Muse. Now that we have begun the story, our collaboration continues and your Poet cannot wait to create the next chapters together with you, forever with you in a series that is ageless, timeless and eternal.

~ kei

Twinned Souls

Soul Mates I

This feeling has been growing
A gentle whisper in my mind
Begging for my attention
Wishing to be defined

A warm and glowing ember
Or a wisp of memory
Begs me to remember
Someone who’s been a part of me

Have we met before Love
Did we know each other well
There are many times just lately
On this question, I do dwell

In a simple turn of phrase
Or a laugh we have shared
Kindness in a moment of sorrow
It’s as if you’ve always been there

I suppose you’d have to believe
In this being a concept true
That more than one person
Can hold a key to you

And I do have certain moments
Bursts of spontaneity
Where I am quite certain
That you’ve been a part of me

Souls born in the same moment
Each knowing much of the other
Not incomplete in of themselves
But so much more when together

That deep and gentle knowing
In your eyes mirror’d is a wonder
Soul mates from the beginning
Divergent paths, brought back together

~ kei
19 March 2014

Sun and Moon Lovers