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poetry: blog

I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

cute girl with a sick mind-Camila Cabello

maybe I restarted the blog for a younger version of us out there
in another state, another country who needs a roadmap,
Understanding, knowledge, and wisdom
in navigating a hard situation they never thought
they had to face
maybe I restarted the blog out of hope that some couple
out there who’s struggling can find something useful
in my story, in my prose, and my poetry
to get through their own hardship through the worst of it
and make it to the other side, evolve and grow together
in intimacy and find their own happy ending

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Precious Commodity

so beautiful

my energy is a precious commodity
i don’t give it to anybody
my time and effort now has to be earned
because of so many false starts and lessons learned
I’d rather embrace my solitude than once again
Become Joe from “YOU”
because I’m much to beautiful
to fall for another insensitive fool

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poetry: intruder

the intruder within me won’t quit
she remembers every wrong done to her
and every mistake she’s made
and starts the game of how much self loathing
i can take
And I used to try to quell her with affirmations
but lately I tell her-tell me more-
And I listen and write out her words
about every insecurity that still plagues me
and she stops because it’s no longer fun
so she leaves once she’s acknowledged
and once again I return to my inner peace

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: not sure

I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

me when I wrote this poem

I’m not sure if I have to work as much as I Do
but I know what happens when I don’t
my electric bill goes in the red
a food stamp application is filled and filed
for me and my family
I start to lose sleep over the bills and the things
my kids need
and when I fall into dreamland
dreams of soup kitchens, panhandling,
and scarcity follow me
and I end up in the land of poverty, insanity
and hypervigilance
where I beat myself up for not doing enough
to give my kids the life they deserve
and I regret my life choices that led me here
especially the one where I chose a lazy baby daddy
I’m not sure if I have to work as much as I do
but I’ll continue to do so until my body shuts down
who cares if my hip is broken and I hardly have
any time to myself
I’d rather work myself to the bone than to allow
my family to fall again into being victims of poverty

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Poetry: Bragging

bitches better watch out, I don’t play

When I was a teen I was the girl guys hid
They were embarrassed to be seen with me
and now in my middle age men want to brag
about fucking me even if it was that one time
and while I’m not ashamed of my sexuality
I still hate this misogynist reality of
how my body and my sexual intensity
makes me fodder for men’s sexism
maybe it’s toxic masculinity
Or maybe men can’t see past my powerful sexual energy
They need to remember I’m also crazy
and when they relegate me to a sexual object
they become my subject for my salty poetry

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Poetry: It could be worse they say

It could be worse they say because I could be dead
my children left without a mother
my parents left without a daughter
My friends and coworkers left without entertainment
of my emotional and dramatic hijinks
And I left without fulfilling my potential or life purpose
It could be worse they say because with me gone
Who else will give you my special brand of crazy?

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: charity

I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

feeling some kind of way

their used knicknacks, their used clothes
their used whatever is taking up too much space
in their closet or garage
all of this is given to their browner and poorer
counterparts
act like ever act of charity will bring them
one step closer to heaven
when at times their recipients feel
like it’s a act of condescension, arrogance
a way to remind them where they belong
a way to remind them of their working
class status
the haves need the have nots to have someone
to feel superior to
while the have nots cannot escape
the cycle of poverty
due to the greed of the haves

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

Hunger

Dm me for the price 🤣🤣🤣

Are you seeking security or adventure?

lately I take the biggest bites out of life and flaunt it
in front of everyone
for too long I suppress my hunger for experience,
For adventure
thought I was crazy for trying to explore my curious nature
So instead I took small bites here and there
thinking it would be enough
but it wasn’t who I was
a little bird taking nips
naw I’m a condor reading to pounce and satiate my hunger
my big ass appetite
ready to be satisfied
with the unpleasant  and pleasurable things in life

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poetry: COVID AGAIN!

I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

in the midst of another bout of COVID

with this new strain of COVID, all of my cell are mutating and regenerating
and making be at a standstill where I have time to sit and think
about what I really want, about whether or not I’m doing enough
to live a life worth living
or if I’m just existing in a routine of monotony that leads nowhere
in a routine I’ve deluded myself into calling healthy
but really it’s far from it

Posted on by pattytacuri · 3 Comments

Poetry: Pretty Mess

honesty is not pretty

Men love a pretty mess like me
especially the nice ones who want to fix me and save me
I’m their pretty princess who’s so lovely and sweet
And for some, my pussy makes them think or say they love me
but when I turn from a pretty mess to a crazy and chaotic hurricane
they can’t stand to be around me and run away
“I never signed up for this, you’re toxic”
and I cry and then laugh at the absurdity
you don’t get to choose just to love the fun part of me
because that’s not love
that’s their primal need and lust for me disguised as loved
because real love accepts everything about me

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: American dream

I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

part of my american dream

to see my american dream I just need to step into my backyard
and look at my holy trinity who call me mom
they’re the ones I try to better myself for
they’re the one who make my immigrant existence
worth living for
they’re my american dream wrapped up in burps, dark humor
and love

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: july

I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

an omen in july

july, july, july
it’s the month where I lose my mind
the heat gets to me and turns up the BSC in me
you won’t find me sweet and eager to please in July
you won’t find me full of ruffles and flowery phrases
in poetry
you’ll find me being a ball of immigrant rage and fury
you’ll find me a woman who’s had enough
of the American dream bullshit
and ready to roar and scream out everything wrong
with this country