Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: cesspool

I wrote this poem in March of 2019.

Feeling hopeless in a cesspool of a world
That will never accept you
-for your skin color
-for your accent
-for your nationality
-for your religion or lack of one
-for your independent thought
Anything that doesn’t fit the image
of white and Christian is blasphemous
To be an “other” is to carry the weight of racism,
discrimination, xenophobia
All the phobias on your already burdened shoulders
So they try to kill us with actual guns Or
metaphorical ones of insults,rejections or looks of disgust.

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: soldier

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

I’m soldier of love
too lost battles for me to count and recount
how many times I’ve had to stitch my heart over and over again
from the many knives past lovers have stabbed me with
with the last one, I almost lost all hope for love
It made me lose my sanity and almost gave me PTSD
Still the romantic in me refused to die
and resurfaced this year
Told me, “this time it will be different, this time you have self respect
and you’ll be choosy over who’s worthy of your love energy”

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poetry: second chance

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

raindrops serendipiciously hit the window panes of our room
and the wind sings a song everyone can hear
I lay on your chest in our bed in awe of what just happened
caught lovestruck with a smile of love
thankful for this second chance at marriage
for so long I thought I was doomed to be alone
never expected to find you
especially the way you showed up in my life
and now there isn’t a space between us
and you look at me with goofy smile of yours
the one that inspires the poet in me and say
“we need to make up for lost time”

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: between

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

me at open mic in February

between heartbeats and honeysuckle, they fell in love
this time, it was different for both of them
this time it didn’t take much to see that both of them
Wanted to exchange I dos
this time they believed in forever and happily ever after

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poetry: special

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

me on my birthday

With a fiery madness, she survived and made it out alive
tragedy after tragedy, diagnosis after diagnosis
she questioned how or why she did it
Many stood astonished at how she kept herself together
and composed even as her life and her body fell apart
but after a while it was easy for her to triumph
after every devastating plot twist
she was something else
a mixture of manic pixie girl and goddess
she was special

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: help her

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

her help with her hair

help her find hope after becoming the worst version of herself
after getting herself entangled with men who did nothing
but hurt her

help her find grace after the fall from the altar of love
men placed her on and she turned into a monster
who resembled medusa

help her find a path to enlightenment and purpose
after she once again drowns in waves
nostalgia and grief over what could have been

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: all worth it

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

I’d never say I lost time with any of my love stories-
they all taught me something about myself
They all inspired me to write poetry
and two of them help me create my three kings
even if some of my love stories left me decimated
and almost destroyed me
they were all worthy for the love I felt
the growth and progress I had

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: feminist

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

a part of my poem “learn patriarchy”

never set out to become a feminist but somehow ended up becoming everything
opposite of what I was taught a woman should be
in my young girl’s mind
a husband and children should have made me happy
even when I observed all of the women around drown in misery
always complaining about their husbands and kids
I thought that maybe with me, it’d be different
and when I found myself in my grown up conditioned woman narrative
I almost tried to die in that reality and knew it was never for me
and for a while I searched for answers in others until I looked within
and understood, i alone am magic
I alone without a man am really enough
and the only one responsible for my happiness and to make my dreams come true
all a man ever did was drag me down and made me feel like the dirt on his shoe
or like an ornament to take out at times for his convenience
and when I realized all of this
that’s when I became an unintentional feminist, unapologetic and unashamed
to be the woman I always wanted to be but had been too afraid to embrace
until my middle age

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: looking

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

ready to live this kind of story

I’m looking for the rhythm of a new heartbeat to fall in love with
A heartbeat that goes with the flow of my intense intimacy
A heartbeat who doesn’t call me angel or princess
only calls me by my name
a heartbeat who’ll fall in love with the real me
and not the idea they have of me
or the persona I play on social media
A heartbeat who can handle my crazy and chaos
A heartbeat who accepts and understands me
and never tries to change me

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: dystopian clusterfuck

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

to be honest

me and my family have immigration jokes for day on end
and some of my friends think that’s sick and awful
but its one of the only things
that helps me and my family keep our sanity
in Trump’s American is making fun of our misery and misfortune

it’s how we’ve survived generations of corrupt governments
and wannabe dictators
its how we’ve passed resilience and strength to future generations

sure, we may cry at first as the life we’ve worked hard for
starts falling apart and our plans for the future are shattered
because of a few megarich and corrupt maga idiots
who run our government
but right after we wipe our tears and break out in jokes
and laughter
especially now that what’s supposed to be the land of the free
gets more and more fascist
and we swim closer and closer to nazi waters
the only thing we can do is try to find a way to smile, to laugh,
to find a bit of joy no matter how fucked up in may seem
in this dystopian clusterfuck

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: criminal

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

my face after I wrote this poem

rose gold cross ripped from her neck
handcuffs cutting into her smalls wrists
mami and papi can’t explain why
they’re nowhere to be found
she thought officers were supposed to be good people
but they hurl insults at her and call her a criminal
and at 10 she can hardly grasped
the severity of the situation
they tell her over and over again
“we’re taking you back to where you came from”
and it’s beyond her compression
because her birth certificate says Illinois
because America is the only home she’s ever known

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: so resilient

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

Diseased hip evicted, shiny aluminum to replace it
6 inch scar needed to better my life
80 minutes of the Drs doing their magic
Cutting into me and making me whole
a recovery period of 6 weeks or so they say
third time trying to fix my hip
hopefully the third time  is a charm
all of this just for being born broken,
Damaged and different

everyone admires my strength and resilience
and all I dream about is one day not being defined
by everything I’ve had to overcome,
of ne day not being called resilient
and being seen as more than the turmoil
I’ve had to endure and over come