i have been shaken
By: Jim Kellogg
(The Queer Poet)
12-2-24
i have been shaken
by your trembling breath
slumbering in my arms
the melody it makes
when your heart is at ease
our bodies intertwined
our souls harmoniously dancing
the tune of unadulterated love
once in a lifetime magic
tears flow like nature’s uncontrollable fury
as i read this poem
i have been shaken

Rest in Peace Pipita

Like a precious bottle of Malbec~ from the vineyards of Argentina Vintage 1928.
Her hair is stunning red, roots deep brown with traces of white.
The lines on her face emphasized the years of laughter and tears. So many stories of the old Argentine neighborhood she speaks about~ I see these stories in her lines.
Her expressions are truth.

Her hands remind me of an atlas map
Tracing veins like blue rivers with finely detailed “lunars” (known in English as beauty marks) properly positioned.
The jewelry she is adorned in brightly shines
Even after so many years without polish
Her gentle smile reminds me of her youth and vibrancy

“I am not afraid” she recited to me once “When God calls for me, I will answer”

Her spirit makes life worth living.

Looking forward to old age.
With my heart and soul, I am a reflection of her.

She is my GRAND-Mother.

Bendicion~ 🙏

I sat on concrete pavement asking the stars to show me a sign~

Snow flakes melted on my lips~
Opened eyes
I knew he heard my chime
The wind was speaking to me~
“Child ~always be kind”

Visions of a natural divine- My Lord did hear my cries

I wanted to be held by thee
A force to teach me wise
My daddy a vague belief
My Father treats me kind
I fall in arms so thought to be something I long to know

Pandora reassures herself at midnight in full moon’s glow

Heavy footsteps led a life in vain
Heartless memories draw so much shame
As only I smile to feed the dreaming tree
“Daddy come quick” so gone in memory
I begged and plead that very night God took heed in the stars so bright
Though disbelieved the sacred wind
To trail the roots that polluted kin
Begged salvation for I reached the depth
To discover the dreaming tree subsists
Nourish it with heart plus soul
Two sprinkles of dreams and three of gold
A dash immortality and one of bold

The dreaming tree lives, the relics unfold

Those who did not believe that night
Heard the winds had predicted a crest moon and rain
When evil lied in rhythms of naked branches

The eclipse made the marked apologize in nodded shame

My dreaming tree had grown all this time
I knew,
I know,
I believe.

I gave my all (so spent) as dear you are to me
The forecast called for a sunshine horizon
Out on the torrent sea
The dreaming tree survives in you
May your daddy be thoughts in knotted ribbons of blue
Your Father will provide for you at times of despair.
My dreaming tree blossoms
I smell spring in the air~

Spring, not sprung.

People can look like they’re fine, but inside they’re crying.
Many are trying, too many dying, I’m flying on some parachute of prayers.
To the God’s who will listen. To the points of the cardinal directions.
I look up and no longer see Orion who has always been my protector.

My hands fall short of magic. My generosity exceeds in deeds, grateful to bless, but somehow not enough to me. I know life is unalome, never even keel- my path made me stronger, wounds have healed.
Although the deeper I dive, the pain becomes real. I deal. I’ve observed on every level, inhaled, exhaled and weighed it on the scales. It tips. Balance is off-
When the whole world is upside down and right side up, I still live in my bubble. When I’m lost, I retreat. No white flag, no olive branch, no phone calls, just me- in the corner with a pen and paper, crying. For everyone I’ve lost, for everyone I’ve ever loved and had to walk away from, for everyone who bears the weight on their shoulders but wakes up and smiles at the world, I am you.

Spring, but not sprung.

Let me feel the rain on my face as I know it waters the flowers that blossom in the spring.

I miss my family and friends who are in another realm. Let their energy protect mine. Allow me to shine like gold in a river on sunny day.

I need my magic or I am useless.

To the God’s~ Please protect us.

the clockmaker’s bride

they can’t go where i go,
they can’t see what i see,
they don’t know what i know,
that can’t be what i be//i believe i’ve been living for myself- i have been living for life.

knowledge that belongs to you will find you.
what’s yours will come to you.
the focus on the future blinds you from the opportunities you are surrounded with today.
you would not be in this space if you weren’t wanted.

so why do i feel like you’re trying to prove yourself? your worth?
what is there to earn//i have nothing to give
are you entitled to the approval of others//are you too ashamed of your experiences to approve of yourself?

is it your experiences that make you, you?
is it your beliefs that makes you, you?
is it your actions that makes you, you?
what is there in the world that you claim as the creation of others//i claim that which i create
i don’t know.
i have no clue to be entirely honest.
consider this: am i what you decide to call me, or am i what i say i am because i’ve decided to be?

in one way or another, existence supposes definition,
you are something to someone, even if that someone is the ground you walk on. the plant life you trample over with the careless entitlement to destroy.
are you going to allow yourself to be defined?

frankenstein’s monster. he does not have a name because his creator never gave him one. although he could decide to name himself and shape his own identity, he could never cut the ties that bind to his father. the bond is why you seek approval. the bond is why apathy is worse than disapproval; those who are not acknowledged are the ones that destroy. you need to be responsible for everything you create, whether it be art, technology, literature, or life.

never give your creations to the world to be defined by the world,
they will never deserve what you are.
in approval or disapproval, acknowledge what you’ve done.
thank accountability for it,
take ownership of it,
the way every influence in your life have taken ownership of you,
how they’ve taken care of you,
how they’ve hurt you,
remember how you felt,
remember the feeling,
some people have nothing to feel,
i implore you to be intentional in your interactions with others//be intentional about how you make them feel,
how you make yourself feel.
you may be the reason someone in this world is lonely,
remember how you’ve felt in the deepest chasm of your limitless,
to whom/what you wanted to take ownership of it,
your friends, your parents, your lover, yourself, your gods?
now think of who you are to others, a friend known for being reliable, a child known for being grateful, a lover known for making someone feel whole, a creation grateful for who’s grateful for being created?
privileged.
who are you to abandon what you’ve created.

“i know all about the pain that you go through” – Gustav Ahr

I’m living in a body that does not have the capability to stay awake.
I’m held captive trying to get through each day, knowing I could shut down at any moment.
My eyes are heavy.
My head pulsates.
I disengage before I even give consent.

I’m so tired all the time.
I need a nap after basic things.
Shower. Nap.
Cook. Nap.
Eat. Nap.

The yawning is uncontrollable and a clear indicator.
I wonder if i could get assistance but don’t want others to view me as lazy or taking the easy way out.
Is my disability valid enough?
Will sympathy be shown for this unconventional disorder?
It’s hard to relate to anyone.
People often tell me we are all tired.
But I know that not everyone contemplates sleeping in a bathroom stall at work daily.
I know others could get a good nights rest and a boost from their favorite cup of coffee.
I know others don’t go to war with themselves about walking out just to go home and rest .. leaving my family financially unstable and confused.

As I write this, my eyes feel heavy.
They burn a little.
My head and neck give out occasionally.
I’m uncomfortable yet again.
And I don’t see any resolution in sight.
I’m chronically fatigued.

never take love lightly

remember that
the world you know today
could, and will shift in an instant

be courageous enough
to love so deeply
that you’ll go the extra mile
to create beautiful memories
with the people you cherish
and involve all of your senses
in being present with them

tell them that you love them
but don’t stop there
learn what to do for the ones
who’s lives matter most to you
seek what makes them feel loved
listen to what touches their hearts
and see them shine brighter
as you learn to speak
their language

start with giving yourself
all of that care
because if anyone deserves it
so do you
then spread that love around you

Everyone, I believe, has their struggles with mental health. For me, I deal with PTSD, mood swings, and depression. Some days are good, but other days, I just want to stay in my room and shut out the world. I have my crying days, especially as I reflect on the loss of my dad in January 2020, the heartbreak of losing my baby in 2021, and recently, walking away from a relationship I wanted but knew wasn’t good for me.

These experiences caused setbacks in my mental health. Adding to that, earlier this year, I was injured while trying to protect an officer during an assault. The lack of care and support from some of the people I work with only made it worse. After more than 12 years on the job, I’ve faced workplace bullying and lies against my name. I’ve had to accept that I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, and that’s okay.

PTSD brings its own challenges—it can make me angry or deeply depressed at times. But explaining that to others often feels impossible, so I don’t. Instead, I turn to prayer, trust in God, and meditation to help me navigate these struggles. These practices have become my lifeline, helping me find peace and strength to keep moving forward despite the setbacks.

I’m not where I want to be yet, but I’m on my way, taking steps to heal and improve every day.

Dear me,

You may be younger and think you are wiser but think again. Life will humble you quicker than quick sand. You are not mature or grown and life didn’t make you have thick skin, but rather it made you dull and hide pieces of yourself. It made it harder to try in finding who you were but deep down you already knew. You are young, vibrant, funny and full of life. You care too much and that is okay. You knew who you were and others hated seeing you shine. As you grew, your star got duller and duller but when it was the darkest, it still managed to brighten everything and everyone around them. When you were at your lowest the tides grew high but you always managed to swim to shore. You may be young now but you are brave. Don’t loose sight and always keep shinning because you are my north star. Love you deeply, always your older self.

At 11 years old I wrote my first suicide letter and attempted suicide for the first time at age 16. Throughout the years I struggled with suicidal behavior and attempted suicide many times. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, depression, social-anxiety disorder and PTSD. This resulted in me self medicating, with alcohol and prescription drugs that I used to numb a very wounded journey that was often judged, misunderstood and never discussed in my family. In December of 2009, a high school classmate and close friend, Stepf Hiser, took his life just a few weeks after our high school reunion. I did not attend and regret till this day, missing seeing him that last time. It was so devasting for everyone because very few knew he struggled, yet we had been soldiers in the trenches of our mental health battle together, my comrade and confidante. Then in 2012, I lost yet another dear loved one to suicide. In 2014, Stepf came to me in dream, put his arms around me and we talked about helping others in the struggle to avoid such a painful existence and exit. I awoke from that drean visit with a promise in my heart, yet that would not reach fruition until after seasons full of many losses sealing my commitment to being sober and to one day help others who struggle with mental health. I started walking and volunteering with AFSP since. As a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, domestic abuse, community violence, addiction, who has a mental health condition and suicide attempts under my belt; I use to be ashamed to feel or be viewed as this “Posterchild of tragedy.” But once the most high gave me the strength, I finally found the courage to #BeTheVoice to share my story with others to promote healing, bring awareness and love. I then humbly became a “Posterchild of testimony.” It’s been a challenging journey of tenacity; yet since 2017, with a group of other survivors, I am one of the co-founders and President of Project W.I.N.G.S. Our mission “We Inspire Nurture Guide and Support anyone affected by a mental heart disorder and/or a mental health crisis within our community.” I am so grateful to be here to represent not only Project W.I.N.G.S, but every suicide attempt and suicide loss survivors everywhere. You are never alone and you are forever loved!
My, Our and Their story is not over ;

The storm had finally arrived after brewing in a silent sea of delusion for far too long. The wind of truth blew fiercely against us all and the rain that fell endlessly were indeed our tears. The clouds drifted across an amber sky of clustered thoughts that hid the sunlight that day.
Yet still I held her to me.
I spoke of angels and good Soul food, whispered love and affirmations in her ear, and kissed her lips. Memories like morning dew covered and saturated my heart.
Yet still I held her to me.
Not knowing that she felt me or even knew who I was any longer because the time was at hand. Her breathing was shallow and yet the life she had lived spoke volumes throughout her transitioning. There was no more time for abandonment issues or thoughts of past transgressions; no space for generational strongholds to reinforce trauma bonding. For soon she would be gone, embraced by the light and Angels she adored. “Thank you” she had told me a mere few days ago as I cared for her, cleaning her and playing her favorite music. “I love you” she had said words that I thought I would never hear her say again after our estrangement.
Yet still I held her to me.
The embrace gave us both the closure that we needed and sought from each other. This day the hospice nurse comes to pull us out of the dark room “Give her space to transition” she said, “often loved ones won’t transition when being watched.” At the time, and in my grief, I thought that was odd of her to say. However when we went back into the room, I touched my mommy’s cooling skin and her stillness almost frightens me, yet it was then that I knew she was gone.
Yet still I held her to me.
Emotions too deep to express escaped us as we gathered around the shell that once housed her spirit. She had joined the ancestors that now danced in the wind beyond this realm. And as the years and time attempt to comfort us all in her absence, as she comes to visit us in dreams to hold dear with our memories, when moments too big for explanation are captured – my thoughts are of our last hug, when still I held her to me.