I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
a drunk driver hits an ambulance-
and there is outcry, an uproar over the craziness of it all
we all judge and hate the drunk driver without compassion
without looking in the mirror, without acknowledging
how most of us have made alcohol a staple,
a must need for celebration-
a must have for everyone no matter what social class you’re in
If I had a magic wand and I could un-invent something, it would be the concept of war. Maybe it’s the idealist that still lives in me that thinks humankind could be more evolved that who we are now. It’s inhumane and absurd that in 2024, innocent lives are lost, entire family lines decimated because some countries need to “win” and think they’re far superior than the “other”side.
here’s the english version of this poem:
Poetry: My Pathetic Little Beast
cuando las lágrimas quieren salir
busco mi cuaderno y empiezo a escribir
dejo que mi pequeña bestia de creatividad
llena la pagina con todo lo que sofoco y suprimo
llena la pagina con el desmadre y las pendejadas
que ocupan espacio en mi mente
y escribo, escribo, escribo
hasta que encuentro claridad
hasta qué puedo respirar
I wrote these three poems in November of 2022 when I was still married. One thing I wanted to mention about the first poem is that even though my ex no longer serves me breakfast, he’s still super reliable. For example, my car decided to kiss another car this morning (car accident) and he was the first one I called to help as I was overwhelmed. Granted, we still live in the same house but he didn’t have to come and still came. I’m glad we are still able to be friends despite the fact that we’re divorced. I think that when it comes to love, familial and friendship love is the best kind of love there is out there for me.
little reminders
little reminders of how I’m loved
greet me on daily basis
breakfast served by my starter husband
my son asking me if I’m okay
my coworker saying one of my poems moved her
the cold breeze in the air kissing my face
my favorite song playing on the radio at the right time
it’s the little reminders that give me hope in humanity
11/20/22
friends
friends provide everything a lover hasn’t been able to-
an unconditional love and acceptance
where they provide a space for me to be who I really am
they don’t care if I’m dramatic or loud
they encourage me when I’m down
and they never leave me when I’m too much
11/19/22
my community
community is my tia’s buenos dias on whatsapp
or mami’s phone calls to check up on me
community is greeting my fellow runners on my route
or laughing with my coworkers about the latest absurd policy
community is blasting yung gravy from my car radio
or vomiting my feelings out on paper or at open mic
community is everyone and everything I love
11/9/22
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
if my parents hadn’t chosen america as their new homeland
I wonder who I would’ve been
a woman of priviledge married to a man who loves me for me
or would it have been inevitable for me to turn out as a rebel who’d cause many scandals
would I have take my education more seriously because of the pressure from society and my parents
or would I have still struggled with my ADD and said fuck it
I wonder who Peruvian me would have been if I didn’t have a bilingual and bicultural identity
In an ideal world, I would reduce a lot of clutter in my life if my emotionally supportive ex husband moved out. I can’t kick him out though cause my children would cause a ruckus and hate me. Plus, I’m trying to be patient and give him time or find some way we can live apart (I’ve been set on this goal for years), I guess I could find other ways to reduce clutter. I could go through my closet and dresser and get rid of clothes I don’t wear anymore and donate them to goodwill. I could also go through my bookcase and donate books. Honestly, I need to go through my room and the entire downstairs of my house and do a deep decluttering and cleaning. I could also through my google storage and delete the videos, pictures, and files I don’t need since I’m always running out of google storage so this is something I really need to do. My problem is that with little free time I have off, I like to get lost in writing poems, reading, or watch TV and have no desire to do adult things unless I absolutely have to. I guess I could add it to my 2024 goals.
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
They laid him on my breast and told me,
“Meet your baby boy” and I was in shock
the alien on top of me is mine?
this wasn’t supposed to be part of my adolescence
I’m only seventeen and some days I barely remember
to brush my teeth
and now I have this great responsibility
and his beady and angry eyes questions
as to why his comfort was disturb-he already hates the world
and I think , same, kid, same
WordPress, twitter
Instagram, facebook (ew)
tik tok (cringe)
and email(when necessary)
and occasionally tumblr
it’s how I share my art, my beauty,
my vulnerability with the world
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
I go between contacts and glasses to fit my different personas-
in my contacts I’m a pretty woman with makeup and a dress
I become the kind of woman men are nervous to be around
or get intimidated by
In glasses I don’t care to capture the male gaze or even mine
it’s when I work that second job or I’m at home
it’s when I allow myself to just exist
not caring about the pressure to be attractive
or allow my social conditioning to take over
and tell me since I’m this crazy, I need to be pretty, sexy, charming
to validate my existence
Lately I prefer my glasses, lately I want the freedom to just be
I remember being super excited and happy going on this bus ride because going to Oxapampa has been a dream of mine for quite some time. Oxapampa is the town my dad was born in and raised. When my dad talked about it, it always seemed picturesque and like something out of a fairy tale. I was also excited to meet my dad’s relatives (aunts and uncles) who helped raise him and the cousins who he played with. His relatives also seem to be larger than life characters who were genuine and good people according to my dad’s description of them.
when I think about my most memorable road trip, I think of my 10 hour bus ride I made from Lima to Oxapampa when I went to Peru last spring. It was memorable in a good way. The company we booked the trip with was wonderful and me and my son were mostly comfortable. So the trip to Oxapampa meant going up into a high altitude of 5951 ft above sea level from the 528 ft above sea level altitude in Lima. We were advised to consume coca leaves before going to prevent motion sickness so we went to the pharmacy and they gave us coca leave in pill form.
Our seats themselves were super comfortable and we could recline into an almost bed so we slept super comfortable. They also had screens where we could watch American movies dubbed in Spanish. One reason we were super comfortable was because we were on the upper deck of the bus which had more space for seats. Of course, we paid more for this V.I.P seating but damn , it was well worth it. Unfortunately and fortunately, it didn’t have WIFI so I just listened to my downloaded spotify playlist. There was a lot of Conan Gray and Taylor Swift I played on my way there. We went at night so we slept most of the way there but I did manage to capture some short videos of what I saw outside the video. We went through a lot of provinces and small towns. Here’s a short video of going through Pasco. This was shortly before we arrived.
I also want to mention that going on this bus ride was also kind of exhilarating because some of the roads are treacherous and narrow and sometimes we were going on terrain that was high. That meant if the driver lost control of the vehicle, we were SOL. Haha. It’s a good thing that a lot of drivers in Peru start driving between the ages of 12 and 14. There’s probably more I will write about this trip. So when we arrived, my great Aunt picked us up and we stayed at her air b&b on her property. Where we stayed had this rustic and magical vibe. I’ll probably write more about this trip that was life changing and healing in so many ways but for now, I’ll just answer the prompt for bloganuary about memorable roadtrips.
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
music and lyrics have always given me a sense of home-
it’s how I’ve grown and evolved
It’s how I learned to express my emotions
when I couldn’t make sense of anything
it fills my soul with love and creativity
it makes me feel a sense of belonging in this world
that looks down on dark and tortured souls
it eases off my loneliness
that sometimes makes me crumble
and leaves me in shambles
If I had my gluttonous way
and I wasn’t counting the sodium content
in fucking everything
I’d devour an entire bag of chili cheese fritos
in between purchase orders and writing poems
I’d stress eat the fuck out of them
I’d even offer some to my friends
everyone needs to taste this salty and crunchy treat
everyone needs to get addicted to this devilish snack
that had me buying 4 bags at the time when it was on sale
me and Chili cheese fritos were the most epic poem,
a match made in consumerist heaven
until middle age and genetics brought on high blood pressure
and my addiction to chili cheese fritos had to end abruptly
so for now, I’ll write silly poems about how I can’t have the one thing
I once was addicted to and still crave
and hope that once I get my blood pressure under control
I’ll be reunited with my comfort snack
and we’ll be together again as I write, as I cry
as I lay on the couch binge watching
some depressing show on netflix
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
does someone have a voodoo doll of me and stuck pins inside my head-
inside my heart-because lately I’m finding it hard to breathe
as my emotions consume and control me-
and I feel like the biggest failure and imposter for allowing it to happen
even though I still function well enough to mask
the mountain of turmoil and grief that’s currently residing me
here is the link to the english version of this poem:
Ser poeta es una locura, una aflicción
es un desmadre que hago cada vez
que palabras de ira, de amor, de desgracia
aparecen en mi página
solo a una loca maldecida
se le ocurre hacer poesía
de sus aventuras y tragedias de su vida
when it comes down to it, my mission in life is simple, it’s to be a good person and a good mom. that means being able to sleep at night with a clear conscious at night and knowing that I have done my best that day. that means giving my children the best of me most of the time.
Life on the BPD 