Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: bitch

I wrote this poem in June of 2025.

women’s empowerment is sold and neatly packaged with sabrina carpenter’s new album
always the heroine for this consumerist society even if the intentions feel a bit icky,
feel a bit 1950s, with a man pulling her hair like a bitch giving off sub energy
that feeds into the handmaiden narrative of America is trying to write for women
and with the shitstorm of the past 2 weeks, I don’t feel sane enough to form an opinion yet,
except that this feels like a weirdly perverse distraction from the rise of fascism
taking place in our country

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: so long, Belgium

I wrote this poem in June of 2022.

write that story

Once again I’m thrown off the pedestal for standing up  for myself
for wanting respect
I’m accused of being a stranger and crazy
My response is :
I did warn you, I did tell you
I have no space in my life for you, I was never looking for romance
I never asked for your love, and now i’m the villain
and you’re another victim
a victim who  love bombed me over and over again
a victim who harassed me with unsolicited dick videos and pics
who never asked for my consent and forced himself into my world
Sorry for not being the girl of your dreams
but I’m also sorry for any ounce of my energy I was pressured to invest in you
maybe now you’ll leave me alone
and maybe even one day, you’ll learn to ask for consent
and perhaps even learn to treat women with respect

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Blanket of Lies

I wrote this poem in June of 2022.

Cover me with a blanket of lies and tell me you love me
tell me I’m the only one for you
and false promises about you’ll never leave
and how you’re not like the other guys
Love me at your convenience, love me when I’m easy
I’ll believe the fantasy and play my role
of the perfect and polite princess
until one day, I grow out of my role and explode
and I’ll discover once again
you’re like everyone else
who can only stand me for a short while
and accuse me of being a crazy bitch and leave

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: unfriended

I wrote this poem in June of 2025.

putting in bold letters I support ICE in your facebook profile pic
I quickly unfriended yours and your husband’s joint facebook account
the one created after he stepped out on you
and karma was served to you for being a homewrecker
several years ago
the one created to keep tabs on him so he wouldn’t do it again
and as I write this, I almost laugh hysterically
because of course it makes sense that you support Trump, ICE,
and everyone who wants to destroy and rips rights away from everyone
who’s not white and straight
After all, didn’t you yourself tear a family apart?
so it makes perfect sense
also I always wondered who the other woman was
from your hateful vitriol of immigrants and latinas
she must be one hell of a Latina who almost took your man

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: harassment

I wrote this poem in June of 2022.

once my boundaries are crossed, I CUT YOU OUT LIKE TAGS ON MY CLOTHING (like the great Conan Gray said)

it’s not romance, it’s harassment
placing me on your dream girl altar
and telling me about your boner
Even after I  told you no
But then you still threw me your delusional love
and when I was honest right away
and I told you “I’m sorry but no”
somehow now I’m a crazy bitch,
a stranger
who’s letting her mental illness talk for her
after calling out your misogynistic behavior
All I said was no to you and the insults come on cue
I warned you, didn’t I and now foul, you cry
I told you I wasn’t ready for what you had to offer
but you kept playing the part of my great admirer
and maybe I’m fucked up in the head
but your fantasies I needed to behead
I needed to keep myself safe from men like you
who try to bully me into loving them
into giving in because your endless attention
and compliments
haven’t you read my story?
I’m not no longer a woman who bends and bends
to man’s thirst for me

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: soft heart

I wrote this poem in June of 2025.

me in 1988

my rage comes in like a bright orange burst and it explodes in social media posts,
my notebooks, and journal
it’s my inner child scared and anxious who feels threatened
and take it upon herself to call on middle age me
to defend her, to protect her from the cruelty and abuse happening in front of her
so many families like mine torn apart
so many immigrant children like me many years ago crying for their parents
not understanding why this is happening
and I feel the heavy weight of impotence not knowing how I can help
or what to do to stop all of this needless pain and suffering happening in front of me
and all I see is a bright orange burst of rage ready to punch walls
because my empathetic and soft heart feels the cries, the whimpers, the screams
of the parents and kids whose only crime was to leave their country
in search for a better life

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: warzone

I wrote this poem in June of 2022.

you can go your own way-fleetwood mac

I’ve walked through the warzone of my love life long enough to know
when a bomb is about to explode (when I fall of some guy’s dream girl altar)
It’s a minefield full of suppressed feelings
consequences of accommodating to a man’s ego
And I’ll tread ever so carefully
I don’t want to be alone, I just want to be loved,
I’ll bend and bend until you call me Gumby
Except I’m not and then I’ll snap and another bomb will go off
“You’re crazy,” you’re dangerous” “ I don’t recognize you”
all for expressing my feelings and wanting respect and dignity

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: exhaustion

I wrote this poem in June of 2025.

to inhabit and exist in my body is exhausting
it’s constantly being in fight or flight mode
constantly waiting in hypervigilance
for the next atrocity from this administration
wondering if my son will make it home today without incident
worrying if my parents or brother will be taken away by the American Gestapo
lighting candles and praying on my rosary for my family’s safety and my sanity
try my best to function as democracy is falling and continuously reminding people
yes, immigrants are human beings and deserving of respect and dignity

Posted on by pattytacuri

poesía: no me vendo

escribí este poema en junio del 2022.

especialmente aquel hombre que me falta El respeto

No me vendo por tus promesas o tus piropos
o por dinero o por tu supuesto amor
porque yo valgo mas que mi belleza
porque soy todo un mundo de magia y talento
entonces quedate con tu dinero y falsas promesas de amor
y nunca me busques mas

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: pink haze

I wrote this poem in June of 2025.

floating in a neon pink haze , the afterlife awaits
no more suffering, no more mental health crisis
no more dark doses of reality
this could be lovely and nice
but I’m pushed out by forces beyond my control
wake up in a fog
my soul’s purpose has not been fulfilled
I must continue telling my story

Posted on by pattytacuri

Honestly

If you had an unlimited budget for 24 hours, what would you do?

Pay off all of my debt, pay mine and my parents rent 12 months in advance and pay my son’s car note. Also go through any go fund me friends and acquaintances and donate what they need. Also, sign up for a couple of writing workshops and pay fees for that.  And buy lots of pretty dresses, journals and books. 🥳🥳🥀

My spirit animal rn
Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Second Chances

I wrote this poem in May of 2022.

I believe in second and third chances
because more often than not
I’m the one who’s written off
because more often than
I’m left after the first time I fuck up
because more often than
I’m expected to be almost perfect
and this weighs on me heavily
but it’s my cruel reality
so I’ll give a second, a third, even a 4th chance
because I believe people can change
because I accept people for the humans they are
because even if my benevolence burns me at times
at least I don’t commit an emotional crime
cause judgment without compassion
makes one an inhumane and callous