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Poetry: Extinction

I wrote this in 2017 during my great depression. I guess I was just annoyed and angry by society.

me in 2017 around the time I wrote this poem

Simple decency is becoming extinct
Manners and politeness is rare
rudeness and sarcasm is the norm
Being kind feels outdated
in this narcissistic society
filled with superfluous and superficial people
Who bring their harsh and shallow attitudes
everywhere
There is no escape from this epidemic
of the nothingness
that tries to appear profound
It is a society that blames the victim
“ but what was she wearing?”
or
“He was hanging out with the wrong kids”
It is a society that’s prejudiced against
anyone different
“Go back to where you came from”
“You’ll never belong here”
“People will always remember
how you made them feel”,
Maya Angelou said
Unnecessary, weak, aloof, isolated alone
Is how this world makes me feel
I’m a FAILURE trying to accommodate myself
to this world full of shallow feelings
I miss the kind and real people
in this world
It’s rare to find them now
They are almost extinct

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Poetry: Silence

I wrote this 2013 about my husband.

silence kills

Silence, awkward silence is what was left after everything they needed to say was said

 It was the same fight over and over again.

Old wounds were brought to the surface and reopened. 

She blamed him for derailing her ambitions

 and he blamed her for derailing the productive and selfish life he once led. 

They both couldn’t see that they were both at fault

 for not continuing to push each other to flourish

 but instead they fell into a complacent spell 

And a pattern of a comfortable 

and the fruitless routine of suburban life.

 And the years went on and they had nothing to show for it 

except debt and wrinkles they both inflicted upon themselves. 

And the years went on and all that was left 

was regret for her for the things that she didn’t get to experien

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

Poetry: Joe Goldberg

I wrote this poem in January of this year for a DBT exercise about being creative.

Me and Joe

My love for Joe Goldberg is for real

even if he is a psycho serial killer

he might kill me but won’t abandon me

or break up with me

My love for Joe Goldberg is  healthy and lovely

It brings a calm and serenity like no other 

My love for Joe Goldberg makes me understand

Myself better

I’m like him,  in love with love

My love for Joe Goldberg is the only one I want 

for now

I’d rather deal with a fictional crazy Joe

rather than a real life asshole

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Poetry: Rejection

I wrote this in 2009 about Brad.

sometimes all you can do is laugh

Rejection
Is an interruption
Of the infatuation
I felt towards you

Rejection
Is a profound sadness
With a river of tears
That flows down my cheeks

Rejection
Is a broken promise
You made
That breaks my heart
Along with the rest of me

Rejection
Is the start of learning
Who you are
Behind the facade
Of infatuation

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Poesia: Esperandote

Here is the English version of this poem:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/10/02/eliza-conquers-heartbreak-poetry-edition-2/

Espero, espero, y espero por tu llamada
para oír que mi soledad fue una pesadilla
Espero, espero, y espero que aparezcas en mi puerta
para decirme que todavía me deseas
Espero por tu carta por correo
diciéndome que me echas de menos

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Poesia: Otro Niño Confundido

Here is the English version of this poem:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=1792

Eras un sorpresa lleno

de atención y afección 

hasta me dejastes rosas en mi tablero

Pensé, por fin, llegó mi príncipe azul 

Pero después de un tiempo

Sentí la distancia entre los dos

ya no tenías tiempo para mi

pronto me darás alguna excusa estúpida

porque me tienes que abandonar

y mi corazón quedará en pedazos

no habrá nada más que decir

me dare cuenta

que tu fuiste el mismo cuento

de otro niño confundido

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Poesia: Mi Valor

Here is the English Version of this poem:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/12/13/poetry-old-habits/

Ella era un hábito que no podías romper

aunque te di lo mejor de mi

Aunque te di mi amor

No era suficiente para ti

entonces corriste a los brazos de ella

y cuando me entere

me aleje de ti

Mientras ella se quedó contigo

porque yo no soy una estúpida

yo se mi valor

Posted on by pattytacuri · 7 Comments

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:Traitor

Aquí esta la versión en Español:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/08/08/poesia-desgraciado-2/


Perhaps I’m crazy,

Perhaps I’m dramatic 

But I must say

You’re a traitor

for what you did to me

Causing me so much  heartbreak

and misery

Pretending to “love me”

Behind your “nice guy” disguise

was really an asshole

who lured me with sweet lies

into a web of treachery

and infidelity

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Flash Fiction: Once Again

I wrote this in 2004 and revised it recently. It’s not based on anything from real life.

hard truth

They’re driving back from the theater. All evening he’s been quiet and she wonders what is going on. She reaches for his hand but he won’t give it to her. She tries to look into his eyes and he looks away.She can feel him cold and distant. She no longer recognizes what is supposed to be “them”. With tears in her eyes, she says, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing.” he says as he’s still evading her eyes.

“Do you still love me?” she asks with a quivering voice. 

“I’m sorry.I’m in love with someone else. It’s nothing you did. These things happen, I hope–

“STOP!” she yells. She’s barely holding it together at this point. 

“I’m really sorry, I just want to-”

“STOP! I’m done with this. Stop the car.” she screams at him. 

“You’re being crazy, at least let me-”

“NO. I want nothing from you! Stop the car NOW!”

“You need to calm — he stops mid sentence as he sees her taking off her seat belt and unlocking the door. He stops the car. He says, “I just want–” 

“Fuck what you want” she says as she gets out of the car.

“But I-”

“There is nothing left to say”. She tells him. She walks away while she cries and laughs.She whispers to herself  “fuck.once again”.  

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Poetry: Fence

I wrote this in 2007 about my husband. I was frustrated that he was always so guarded with his emotions and his past. I hated that I could give him my vulnerability and he couldn’t give me his. Looking back now, I should have realized how incompatible we were at the time, but my stubborn and optimistic self wanted things to badly work.

me around the time I wrote this poem

A steel and locked fence guards you.

It does its job well.

Your insecurities and emotions never

come out to play with mine.

Your past never comes out to 

join mine in a game of nostalgia.

Will your fence ever open for me?