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poetry: a lesson in dialectics

I wrote this poem in March of 2023.

one of my favorite shirts

How many times have I lied to myself
when I was young in believing some man’s love
would save me, would complete me
when all it ever did was decimate me
over and over again
but I refused to believe love could be anything
but beautiful
Until one day I learned to be honest with myself
and it was a lesson in dialectics
of how love can be both an ugly and beautiful thing

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: was I joe?

I wrote this poem in March of 2023. My reference is to Joe Goldberg from the show “YOU” and not Joe Biden( who is in his own right a monster as well.lol)

random thoughts from my 15 year old self

I sit around in horror-
flagellating myself for comparing myself
to a monster
I know that this was the only way to cope and process
with emotions that threatened to crush me
but if I had to be honest with myself
it makes me question the reality I was living in
and maybe the psychotic who resided inside of me

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poetry: too wild

I wrote this poem in March of 2023.

only tacos have an invitation to my heart…always and forever

On days like today, I feel too wild, too untamed
to be loved, to be handled by anyone
I feel like too much and I won’t find anyone who’s enough
and I wonder if I’ll really be alone forever
because right now that’s what my future looks like
and it’s not me trying to diss any potential love candidates
it’s me acknowledging how much of an earthquake,
a hurricane, a tsunami I can be
and even though I’ve done the work to tame my inner demons
It still feels like there is still so much work left to do
before I feel confident enough to invite anyone else into my chaos

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: international women’s day

I wrote this poem in March of 2023.

two badass women against the patriarchy

women are recognized all over the world today
but none of us are equal
we still have to fight the same bullshit every day
if we’re human and show emotion, we’re labeled crazy or dramatic
if we want to show off our bodies, we’re labeled slutty or conceited
if we don’t give in to our partners because they’re “in the mood”
we are called prudes, frigid bitches or worse,
we feel obligated to give in to avoid being raped
it we’re educated and try to succeed in our careers
men are intimidated by us and try hard to dim our light
and if we are loud and take up space
we are labeled as too much and abandoned
it’s like as much as the media try to paint a picture of equality
it’s all a fucking lie
because in my 42 years on this earth
I haven’t lived anywhere where my existence is valued
as much as man’s

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poetry: my covid trauma speaks for me

I wrote this poem in March of 2023. I guess I was angry that day. Lol.

ask me how I self medicated during the height of the pandemic

I’m still salty about how you quarantined assholes
treated us essential workers
looking down on us, treating us like the plague
making judgy statuses about we were all subpar
I hope Karma got to some of you
and you didn’t just get COVID one time
but you got it three or four times
I hope y’all got a lifetime of insomnia
and cholesterol problems you have to take pills for the rest of your pathetic lives
I hope y’all got a guilty conscience and life fucked you over and over again

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poetry: prison

I wrote this poem in March of 2020.

me in March of 2020

Trapped in this self made prison-
Trapped in what I thought was the American Dream
/but in reality is the immigrant nightmare
Trapped in my mom’s life
Trapped under a heavy blanket of strength
I continue to cloak myself in
Trapped in a suburban hell
of family and responsibilities
Trapped because I wasn’t patient enough,
wasn’t independent enough
to build the life I truly wanted
And instead settled
for a mediocre one
Trapped because of my fear of being lonely
a fear that has chained me to a heavy present
without any hope for the future

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poetry: my anger walks in

I wrote this poem in March of 2023.

watch out when I have this look on my face…lol

my anger walks in and I feel an earthquake within
and I become the saltiest bitch
Writing poetry about anyone who’s wronged me
but then again it is entertaining
Seeing how mean and petty I can be
It’s not like I’m vindictive or seeking out revenge
most of these new angry poems won’t be shared with the world
it will be kept inside the pages of my notebooks and journals
I just need to let it out and scream
Fuck you, fuck him, fuck her, fuck the world, fuck everything
Before I take it out on anybody
before I post something stupid and cringy I’ll regret later
before I allow the world to know how I’m burning