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poetry: birthday week

I wrote this poem in February of 2024.

me on my birthday

man sets himself on fire for gaza
woman murdered just for existing
babies starved to death for being born Palestinian
young adult dies at dorm of the local university
collective grief rattles our communities
don’t know what to make of so much loss
happening within a matter of days
all we can do is hold on to each other
as senseless madness and violence takes place
all we can do is tell our stories
build our sanctuaries within each other
remind ourselves of our warmth, our humanity
when the world is heavy with cruelty and toxicity

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poetry: the sky

Here’s a link to the original 2006 poem that inspired this poem:

Poetry: Why?

the sky fell on me on that tuesday morning
when you ended me with a 5 minute phone call
for weeks I cried on the carpet
until I fell asleep
for weeks I wanted to fade away
into an abyss of nothingness
and even though it’s been almost decade
I still think about that Tuesday morning
the morning I lost the small piece
of innocence I had left

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poetry: thanatos

here’s the Spanish version of this poem:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=11875

petrified, frustrated, and stagnated
drowning in a sea of disillusionment
thanatos finds me and whispers in my ear
“come with me and your pain will disintegrate”
and the temptation to follow him is great
I hate living in such a terrible and inhumane
world

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poetry: toxic story

I wrote this poem in February of 2024.

Triggered trauma brings in a spiral of toxic guilt and shame
even if logically I know it’s not my fault
and I was just standing up for myself
I’m still recovering from being a nice girl
I’m still recovering from saying please and thank you
when toxicity was served on a platter of love
I’m still recovering from compromising
my values and my true self
for the comfort of others so they’d stay
I’m still recovering from the most toxic
story I ever told myself when it came
to measuring my worth by how
others judged and perceived me

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poetry: wild, wild west

I wrote this poem in February of 2024.

accurate photo of my wild wild west

it’s the wild wild west inside my head
it’s where my demons decide to come out to play
they dance with traumatic memories
making my fears and insecurities come out to the surface
it’s the wild wild west inside my head
being insane becomes my personality and aesthetic
scaring away any potential love candidates
it’s been a long time since I held someone’s hand
much less been in someone’s bed
It’s the wild wild went inside my head
And I wonder when will the demons get tired and leave
so maybe one day I’m not so jaded
so maybe one day I give someone the chance
to take me out on a date

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poetry: my favorite customer

this poem was inspired by this silly poem from 2006 called, “A poetic tale”.

Poetry: A Poetic Tale
this is the vibe of this poem..lol

it was another boring night at work
I was stuck on aisle 10 between stocking
and my racing thoughts
a 90s dance song comes on the speaker
and just when I’m about to sing
I heard footsteps behind me
I turned around and there he was-
my favorite customer
5’10 ,curly black hair, full red lips
and a body built by some Greek God
he was looking at pots and pans
I quickly turned my back to stock the tupperware
and sneaked glances and admired him from afar
hoped he didn’t notice me in my Kroger garb
I looked like too much of hot mess to flirt
but still my dead and jaded heart was resuscitated
and my imagination took flight
as fantasies of him surfaced to my mind
and just as I’m imagined our first kiss
he approached me, -OH NO!
of course he asked for a specific type of pan
we didn’t have
I told him no and apologized
in my best customer service voice
and he told me “no worries”
as his voice cracked and walked away quickly
and I wondered, am I imagining things,
or is he also attracted to me?

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poetry: purpose

I wrote this poem in January of 2024.

that cabinet also brings purpose to my life- it holds almost all of my stories

Open mics, family, karaoke nights, dance parties,
Tarot readings, poems written on sticky notes,
Epiphany after epiphany about how I have always been worthy,
Long conversation about life in coffee shops,
Trips to my dad’s hometown, sharing silly verses with friends
making dumb videos, coffee cups that say main character energy
dancing in car while I drive, taking picture of the moon
and everything else that brings me joy,
and every single experienced Ive lived,
every single person I’ve loved
is what my life’s purpose is about
It’s joy,hate, love, anger, empathy, envy
it all brings purpose to my wretched everyday
existence

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poetry: bridging the gaps

I wrote this poem in January of 2024.

manifesting that one day my book will be here

In bridging the gaps of my story that have remained unresolved
every story, every poem leads to pieces of healing and closure
I’ve been desperately search for since I can remember
Whatever my child self , my teenage self couldn’t voice back then
My middle age self brings to the surface
and while at times it’s difficult and terrifying
it’s needed in the process of healing and evolving

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poetry: utopia

this poem is inspired by the 2006, “let’s go to your store”

Poetry: Let’s Go To Your Store
utopia according to AI

take me on a tour of your utopia
the one you always talk about
the one where mental illness doesn’t exist
and we all go to sleep without the need
of meds and sleepytime tea
the one where everyone is respected
and being different is celebrated
and not used as fodder for insults or war

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poetry: are you?

I wrote this poem in January of 2024.

are you ?

you donate to endless non profits, sit on boards of organizations
that want to bridge communities together,
you volunteer at the soup kitchen or as a mentor
for underprivileged at risk kids
you share your stories of trauma
and you do all of this telling yourself
I want to help others
I want to be a healing light
this cesspool of a world desperately needs
and despite dozens of explanations
I’ll ask you
are you doing it to help others
or are you doing it to fuel your ego?
are you doing out of the purest of intentions
to make a difference
or to make yourself feel better
about your mediocre first world privilege existence?

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poetry: downpour

I wrote this poem in January of 2024.

I’m insane, what can I say

the downpour from this morning made me uber emotional
driving through a flood, trying to not lose control of my car
and with God by my side and Olivia Rodrigo on the radio I made it to work
the downpour didn’t stop
and my coworker mentioned it was an upside world when the morning
looks like evening
and the dreadful weather triggered the on switch to my depression
and out pours the thoughts about grief and death
the downpour of my emotions started and nothing could stop it

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poetry: luchadoras

I wrote this poem in January of 2024.

me in my luchadoras gear ready to go into my second job

I channel the luchadoras before me
the ones who had to work in the chacras
to provide for their families,
the ones who had to work with their bare hands
to build generational wealth
the ones who survived infidelities, abuse, and tragedies
and still came out on top as Queens
the ones who never had the option to lay down
and princess to be doted on, be taken care of
they had to become working class luchadoras
for the betterment of themselves
and their families

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poetry: unsolicited advice

truth!!!
Poetry: Did I Ask For Your Advice?

this is inspired by the 2006 poem, “did I ask for your advice”

well meaning unsolicited advice and opinions from others
Made me feel like I was a failure
like I wasn’t doing enough to better myself
it always comes after a life changing event-
a new baby, marriage, and most recently my divorce
In my 20s it drove me crazy
In my 40s I nod, smile, take whatever is helpful
and move on

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poetry: algorithm

I wrote this poem in January of 2024.

How long do I have to scroll before the algorithm fucks me up
Before the algorithm makes me feel like I’m not doing enough
before I lose my shit and say “this is bullshit”
and delete all of my social media apps
How long do I have to scroll before the algorithm makes me feel better
before the algorithm starts to validate my existence
Before some random stranger slides into my dms and tells me I’m pretty

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poetry: rebel without a cause

I wrote this poem in January of 2024.

for real

My body slowly starts to rebel against the daily stress
I put on it
It says, “stop this nonsense, you’re trying to do too much constantly.
hardly stopping to catch your breath
Constantly moving with a fast pace, tying up your worth
with how productive you can be
when just breathing, just existing is enough”