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Poetry: The Woke “SJW”

I wrote this poem in May of 2022 inspired by this “woke” white woman. Lol.

you’re nothing but a selfish and narcissistic attention whore
constantly craving the limelight
by posting long and stupid ridden Facebook statuses
about the “truth” of the injustice you see
injecting yourself as the voice of minorities
it all unveils your world of deep seated insecurities
and the irony of all of this is should you know better
since you’re a therapist
but apparently you’re still dumb as fuck
It doesn’t matter how many degrees you have-you still reek of ignorance

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Poetry: State of Modern Womanhood

I wrote this poem in December of 2021. I was kind of angry. Lol.

performing this poem at open mic in October of 2022

Let’s hashtag the fuck out of our imperfect perfect lives
smile for the camera but make it look candid
this is for instagram after all-
we want to present an image of authenticity
Authentic needs to look put together and balanced
there can be no cracks in our suburban realities
no one wants to see tears and frowns
let’s continue to act like modern clowns
except our lipsticks presents a false smile
that hides our misery inside and let’s add a witty caption
that spells out live,laugh, love
and hashtags about #momlife,#gratitude, and #bestlifeever
depression, sadness, and anger has no room in our modern world
where we pretend to be perfectly imperfect moms and wives
with these amazing and perfect lives
let’s continue the facade of authenticity
even as we burn inside and want to die
we are not just okay but we are fucking fabulous
so honey continue to smile for that selfie
even as the expectations of modern womanhood
continues to burn us all up

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Poetry: The Latina Thing

I wrote this in September of 2019 after I read somewhere about some politician making fun of AOC for doing the “Latina Thing”. It annoyed the fuck out of me.

what I think of the haters

Make fun of our accents-

Make fun of our names-

But y’all never have our rich history

Call us feisty, caliente, spicy

Call us fiery, loud, sexy

But y’all will never have the exotic magic

we carry within ourselves

Try to bully us into silence

Try to put us down 

with racist and ignorant insults

But y’all will never have 

our immigrant work ethic

or ingrained determination

Try to stereotype us-

Try to make us feel less than

Try to kill us-

But y’all never kill our chingona spirit

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Poetry: Small

I wrote this in 2007 when I transferred to a 4 year University. It was a rough experience.

me with my friends in 2007

I feel small in this enormous and elitist world
it doesn’t seem like I will ever fit
It only seems like a perfect fit
for my younger, blonder, whiter,
and younger counterparts
Older, hispanic, and poor is not acceptable here.
Should I even try ?
When I’m destined for failure on this institution’s steps
Failure on the steps is what I feel here-
a place where my browner, poorer self
feels like an outcast, an undesirable- by the eyes of prejudice

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Poetry: I Wish

I wrote this in April of 2002 when I was depressed AF. I wrote this because I was in a toxic work environment where I was discriminated against, disrespected, and at one point even slut shamed. We could say by today’s standards that I was bullied to the extent that getting up every morning for this job was really hard. I was tired of it when I wrote this poem. I’ll tell the story of this toxic job in another blog post.

resilience should be my middle name

I wish I could throw up
everything ugly in my life
and only enjoy the beautiful
Perhaps tell the put me down people
to fuck off
Or stop their pathetic attempts
to change me into their idea
of what I should be
And stop getting talked into what
they think is best for me

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Eliza Conquers Toxic Situationships

It’s been 2 weeks since the toxic dude “C” that I’ve been having an on and off situationship with has ghosted me. We’ve been playing this game since we met in July of last year. The chemistry and connection between us has been the insane from the beginning and maybe that’s why I have always let him come back. Or maybe I let him come back because I do genuinely care for him and love him and a part of me wants to believe that he’ll change and things will be different this time. I hate that every time I let him in, I let myself be vulnerable and let my guard down. And then he does something to disappoint me each and every time.I think I lost count of the times I’ve cried over his idiot ass. I think this time I’m finally convinced that he’s never going to change and I’ve got to let him go. He doesn’t have the emotional maturity to face whatever conflict we’re having and he never will have the emotional maturity to do so. It’s strange because he’ll be the one to mention marriage or having kids with me and get crazy jealous about other dudes. I think this time he ran away because I called him out on his offensive behavior while we were out in public and he got his feelings hurt. Or maybe he simply got tired of me.

And of course, he was my muse for my writing for a while. Today, I am tired of writing about him. Today, I am relieved that I’m not waiting for him to text me. Today, I am thankful that I don’t have to deal with his alcoholic and depressive ass trying to make me see things from his republican/libertarian perspective or trying to pull me down in his depression with him. Today, I am lucky I’m not measuring my worth by how he treats me. I’m obviously still angry and upset about this but I’m slowly entering the acceptance phase that he will no longer be a part of my anl life. I think the fog has lifted and I understand that I deserve way better than him. He was part of my wild phase from 2018. It was this phase where I got I was hooking up with dudes for fun (me and my husband had opened up our marriage at the beginning of 2018). A few of them I had genuine feelings for but I ended up being a fun phase for them. I realized that while that phase was fun, I need something deeper than a shallow “no strings attached” connection. I thought that maybe me and “C’ had that for a while but I was wrong. I was another “fun” phase to another dude and he got tired when it was no longer fun and made me feel disposable. Oh well. Honestly, I don’t blame guys for being that way. I know my part in putting that energy out there and tolerating waaaay too much. And damn, I tolerated too much with “C”. It probably should have ended for sure when he friendzone the first time in late July or that time he threw me out of his apartment in January or that time in August when I was sitting in the emergency room with my kid and he accused me of sleeping with other men. Typing all this, I think damn, I should have let him go a looong time ago.

20191005_015451

Anyways, today, I say to “C”, thanks for inspiring me for the many poems I wrote, thanks for not believing in me when I needed you too, and also for the excitement and your dumb antics that me and my friends laughed about for hours. I’m not just turning the page, I’m burning our book.
In the words of Ariana Grande, “thank u, next” .