Poetry: Borrowed Time

How does death change your perspective?

word press prompt of the day

lately I feel like I’m on borrowed time-

lately I feel like I’m not doing enough 

and  lately this fucks me up

so I over work, over exercise,

and over post

to make myself worthy of my existence

I want to make sure I’m leaving 

some kind of imprint, some kind of legacy 

behind that I’m remembered by

but it’s really me trying to please 

the inner critic in me

who comes out when I’m most vulnerable

in my grief

Poetry: Duality

I wrote this poem in February of 2022.

I’m constantly shunned from men who profess their love
when I show up feral and without a filter
They’ll call me their princess until I show them my wild
They always love me beautiful and submissive
and they leave when I get assertive and subversive
They feel deceived when they fall for a polite princess
And somehow end up with an amazon Queen
Maybe it’s the Incan in me who can’t reign it in
They say, “you’re too much, you’re too crazy”
Is there a man out there who can handle my duality?

Poetry: Bilingual

I wrote this in January of 2022.

me at work living that bilingual life

Stuck in between Spanish and English
is a bilingual nightmare
constantly switching between languages
gives me a lifelong jaqueca
and at times I don’t get it right
it’s switching between two identities
Latina or American
it gets hard and confusing at times
but it’s who I am
Hablo con mamá en Español
I speak to my sons in English
Hablo con los pacientes en Español
I speak to my coworkers in English
and to code switch parece una comedia
I’m told that I’m fun and loud en Español
pero soy profesional y reservada in English
eventually I learn to meld
my American and Latina personalities
and I find my most authentic
bilingual and bicultural identity

Poetry: I’m Done Apologizing

I wrote this in January of 2022.

me in January of 2022

I’m done apologizing for being too much or not enough
I’ve always been enough
I’m done apologizing for being crazy
I’m God’s creation of a perfect imperfection
I’m done apologizing for being too bland or too spicy
I’m a perfect blend of whatever I want to be
I’m done apologizing for being me!

Poetry: Writing is My Lifeline

I wrote this in January of 2022.

me in January of 2022 in my writing attire

Writing is my lifeline
with it, I’m almost fine
without it I’m almost lost
and my mind pays the cost

Writing is my lifeline
Especially since I’m borderline
It’s brings my truth to the forefront
It’s almost my antidepressant

Writing is my lifeline
It’s part of my life’s design
I accept it as my passion
and also my ammunition

Play-Transition: Scene Two

Here is a link to the first scene:https://wp.me/p23LY2-1qp

Scene 2: 

SETTING: Landon’s apartment. The aesthetic in this apartment is minimalist There are no stray things around. There is a very expensive looking sculpture. Landon has a very simple geometric painting. There is a glass coffee table at the center and really sparse furniture. CHLOE is at the door ready to knock. LANDON is in an expensive jog suit and on his laptop writing a business negotiation. 

CHLOE knocks tentatively on LANDON’s door, Landon looks through his smallish peephole, sighs deeply, plasters a forced smile on his face and opens the door. 

LANDON: Chloe, hi! To what do I owe the pleasure of having my little sister come over here unannounced. Do you want a drink ?

CHLOE: (goes to sit down slowly on the expensive chair) No…uhh..I wouldn’t have come over if I didn’t think it was important. 

LANDON: Well, you know, you could always send me a text or call me.

CHLOE: You never answer your phone or reply to my texts. Besides, this is really important. 

LANDON: Well, you know, I’m a busy guy. You could have a little more consider-

CHLOE gets frustrated and yells.

CHLOE: It’s about dad!

LANDON: Jesus! You’re on that business again. I thought I had already made it clear to you what needs to be done.

CHLOE: No,you didn’t. You’ve skirted around the issue without resolving anything.

LANDON: What is there to resolve? He seems okay living by himself. 

CHLOE: You only see him once a month at the most . He’s struggling and doesn’t want to admit it. He’s not only holding on to mom’s old stuff but is accumulating new stuff as a way to deal with his grief. And to make matters worse, the landlord is about to put him out. We need to reason with him. 

LANDON: How is the landlord going to put him out ? I give the old biddy a little something extra so she doesn’t bother him. 

CHLOE: You don’t understand.It’s not about money, they want him out because dad has basically made the place a hazard. We need to help dad. 

LANDON: And what is your suggestion. Einstein?

CHLOE: Well, you know, he could always move in with you.

LANDON: Like hell he can. Listen, I got a better suggestion. I put up the money, you make all the arrangements and we put him in one of those assisted living places. He’ll be surrounded by –

CHLOE: Are you nuts? A nursing home because you don’t want your life inconvenience

LANDON: I don’t see what’s so bad—

CHLOE: It will kill him! He will hate it. You can’t always just throw money at every fucking problem. You are such a selfish jerk. 

LANDON: And you are a mindless little idiot. Are you done now?

CHLOE: (feeling rather defeated and sighs) Will you at least come with me to reason with him. He won’t listen to me but at least he will listen to you, his favorite child.

LANDON: Sure. I need to see when I’m free. Maybe next week, I could pencil something—

CHLOE: God damnit! Don’t you understand that the situation is urgent? He could be out on the street by the end of the week.

LANDON: Must you always be such a drama queen?

CHLOE: Ugh..there no use talking to you (Chloe mutters under breath, you just don’t fucking care)

LANDON: What did you say?

CHLOE: Nothing.

LANDON: Fine, I’ll go with you this Wednesday afternoon.

CHLOE: Okay.

CHLOE  slams the door and sighs deeply.

Poetry: Distorted Reality

I wrote this in January of 2022.

it’s so much damn work

My emotions cloud and distort my reality
anger brings out passive aggressive social media post
sadness tells me I’m worthless
joy makes everything seem magical
numbness makes me want to end it all
hyper-sexuality makes me want to fuck almost everyone

My emotions cloud and distort my reality
I get paranoid, mad, sad, happy, and horny all in one day
My escapes used to be fucking and drinking
But I got older and wiser
And now I run and I write

My emotions cloud and distort my reality
And I learned to regulate and control them
I observe, I listen without judgment
and I honor my emotions

My emotions cloud and distort my reality
but now only for a short time
And I’m in control again
I’m no longer a mess of destruction and chaos

Poetry: Death

I wrote this in January of 2022 when I was depressed.

honestly

I welcome death to take me away tonight-
death must be better than the anger
that has made an eternal home in me
death must feel better than this emptiness
that lies in my heart
death has to be better than this sorrow
that floods my pillow with tears continuously
death would be better than my emotions
that threaten to consume me

Poetry: I Scoff at Your Good Intentions

I wrote this in January of 2022. I was mad about everything. Lol.

Judgment feels like harsh criticism dressed up in “good intentions”
“you have a college degree, you should be doing better”
or “I’ll respect you when you drive”-thank you for the support sister
Ignorance taste like harsh criticism dressed up “in good intentions”
“I’m saying this out of love, you should be like other latinos
and work and don’t go to college” -thanks for the encouragement coworker
Judgment feels like impossible standards I can never measure up to
it’s an ocean of emotional abuse dressed up as “good intentions”
by calling out my insecurities and pointing out how I’m not enough

December Poetry Challenge: 2022

This was my response to prompt #26 : How has your life changed in the past year

it’s been one of the best years of my life

2022 blessed me with more joy and growth than I could have dreamed of
I changed my narrative from a woman full of anger and resentment
to a woman full of contentment and an appreciation for everything
Unexpected and pleasant surprises filled up my year
swimming for the first time to Taylor Swift
music concerts that brought on catharsis
a spontaneous trip to my homeland where I found a stable sense of identity
and my accidental bangs in that beauty salon in Lima
I also learned to place my solitude as a priority for my recovery journey
It was the year when I stopped chasing love and unabashedly started
chasing my dreams, conquering my fears, and learning to love
the woman in the mirror
It’s been one of the best fucking years of my life
when I finally learned the meaning of gratitude and healthy love

December Poetry Challenge: Everything Else is Bullshit

This is in response to prompt #22:Something all people should know

me reading this poem out loud at open mic

stop allowing the world tell you who you should be
embrace who are with all of your imperfections
being “flawless ”is a lie sold to us by a consumerist society
who uses our insecurities for profit–
the countless anti aging creams catered to women of a certain age
even more weight loss shakes and gimmicks targeted at everyone
feeding us a false narrative that if we are skinnier or younger
we’ll somehow be an almost perfect ideal of human
be whoever you need be to fit your own brand of happy
everything else is bullshit

Poetry: Petty Pouts

I wrote this in December of 2021.

I want to find my way to forgiveness
instead I’m covered in hate
I want to find my way to kindness
instead of being stuck in this
cage of anger and rage
I want true radical acceptance
instead of being a victim to my
black and white thinking
I want to be full of Zen
Instead of being full of insecurity
I want a stable sense of identity
instead of this constant confusion about who I am
I want to write about happiness and joy
instead of filling up my pages with petty pouts

Poetry: Christmas

I wrote this in December of 2021.

me and my boys on Christmas Eve of 2021

Christmas sounds like Mariah Carey and Wham
competing to blast their christmas songs from my radio
or a Christmas Story playing on the tv
Christmas looks likes the crooked christmas tree
almost tipping over with an excessive amount of ornaments
and way too many gifts under the tree
christmas taste like mashed potatoes with ham
and alcoholic eggnog to swallow
uncomfortable conversations about politics
christmas smells like candles burning with scents
called christmas tree farm
christmas feels like happiness with everything in my life
and the warmth and magic of my little family

Poesía: Soy

Escribí este poema en Diciembre del 2021.

Soy todo y nada

Soy la sangre de mis antepasados
Colonizadores e indígenas
y pues por estoy llena
de una ambigüedad
de moralidad
Y pues por eso tengo
la tez blanca con cabello negro y crespo

Soy la sangre de mis abuelos y abuelas
y pues por eso estoy
llena de frialdad
y tambien tengo
un calor único

Soy la sangre mis padres
Y por eso soy
débil y fuerte
Y callada con mal genio

Poetry: An Act of Rebellion

I wrote this in December 2021.

once you get your wings, there’s no going back

Believing in myself feels like an act of rebellion
after years of self loathing and self destruction
I finally feel enough and complete
Is this some kind of dream?
Do I really love myself?
Do I really accept myself?
Do I really care about myself?
I do and I do and I do
I’m ready to live out my truth
I’m complicated and complex
and not terrible or a hot mess
I’ve been forever misjudged
and thought I was too much
The reality of my authenticity
Brings out a new transparency
I was never too much or not enough
or even the hardest to love
I might be a complicated puzzle to solve
But I’m always, always, worthy of love