I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
me and my cousins followed in our abuelas footsteps
having kids out of wedlock with men
who abandoned us and becoming the other woman
and God bless our parents for trying to break
this unhealthy cycles
but Gabriela’s blood is too strong for any of us
to fight off properly
so at some point as we come into adulthood
we search for love in the wrong places like her,
become pick mes and suffer the consequences
of our actions
I wrote this poem in April of 2025.
the nuns and mami started into obedience and I reverted into a world of silence
And everyone praised mami about what a good little girl I was
and no one thought much about this
until my parents demanded answers for the rebellious streak in my teens
couldn’t understand the numerous absences, the subpar performance in school,
why I sulked in my bedroom for hours on ended, the disrespect from my mouth
as I stood up for myself, they wondered where their sweet and quiet princess went
all the while they should have looked back 6 or 7 years ago
when they indoctrinated me to hold it all in or else they wouldn’t love me
should have known one day I’d rebel and explode as I was finding my spirit,
my voice once again after it had been buried under layers of good behavior
I wrote this poem in April of 2025.
abuela, today is your 94th birthday and I still look for you
in mine and papi’s face
I still wonder how your story would have turned out
if you hadn’t been taken away from us at age 50
I still wonder if your spirit was with me and my son
on that magical day 2 years ago
I still weave parts of your story into mine
since our paths were so alike
and today I wonder if along your goddess cleavage,
I also inherited your fiery spirit and generosity
I wonder if right now you’re looking down on me
confused with the life I lead
or accepting and understanding I was made different
from the women in my family
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
sometimes I wish you were here-
so you could share your wisdom, so you could explain your truth
I followed in your footsteps of being a teenage mom
And it would have ripped me apart to have abandoned my son
so I’m wondering how you did it-
were you full of guilt or was it because of your lack of options
how did you survive being away from your child
and go on with your life as if he was an afterthought
Perhaps I’m judging you harshly
and I don’t understand the whole story
I just want it to make sense
wordpress prompt:If you won two free plane tickets, where would you go?
I want someone to take to oxapampa
so I can show him where part of my story started
so he can watch the sun rise and the sun set
on my family’s farmland
so I can experience joy through his eyes
for the first time as he observes the beauty
of the land
So I can watch his face when he takes a sip
for the first time of the world class beer 7 vidas
so we can take tourist pics at the plaza
and the church were my dad was baptized in
dance the night and awkwardly laugh
at the cultural appropriation of the Cheyenne Club
so right after we end up at the Hakuna Matata karaoke bar
when I sing “Lover” to him off key
as he sits in his chair and cringes in embarrassment
and tells me I’m crazy and everyone stares at us
so we could have breakfast with my tia
with the eggs, chorizo, coffee, and milk coming
from the family farm as we all awkwardly make small talk
about our plans for the day
I want someone to take to oxapampa to hug trees,
go on hikes in the jungle, and make love in some little cabin
but I’ll have to wait and wait until the universe
sends someone worthy of going the magical land
of oxapampa
written in September of 2023
Es abril nuevamente y no solo florece la primavera, sino también la creatividad que la acompaña. Y, por supuesto, es el mes nacional de la poesía y todos los años desde 2022 intentó participar en NaPoWrimo, que es una actividad en la que escribo un poema al día y lo publico en mi blog. Estoy emocionado de ver qué poemas locos se me ocurren. El año pasado mi poema favorito fue uno picante que escribí sobre Yung Gravy y que terminé leyendo en frente del público . Además, este año, decidí darles mis propios temas originales para inspirarlos a escribir sus propios poemas. Si quieren pueden enviarme su poema y lo publicaré en mi blog o simplemente pueden guardarlo entre las páginas de su diario. El año pasado tenía como objetivo publicar mis propios mensajes para el Mes Nacional de la Poesía y aquí estamos. Este año decidí usar los títulos de los primeros 30 poemas que he escrito.
Mi Corazón
La Llave Especial
Mi Alma Gemela
El Idiota
Niño
El Canalla
Aquella “Noche
La Magia de Fleetwood Mac
Asesino
El Desenlace de Mi Adolescencia
Todavia Sueño Contigo
Siempre Una Novedad
Fue La Quimica
Desgraciado
Gracias
Traicionada
Querido
Estas Despido
El Miedo
El Compatriota
Te Amo
Otra Estupida Mas
Algo de Ti
Fantasia Exotica
Mar de Desgracia
El Estante
Pasatiempo
Olvidarte Sería Un Sueño
Seguiste con Tu Vida
Un Amor Liberal
El Principio
Otro Hombre Confundido
Mentira
Mi Valor
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
I pay tribute to the women who came before me
women who sacrificed so my parents could exist
my mami who had to leave behind her culture,
traditions, and language to give me a better life
to make sure I grow up safe and well educated
and taught me what strength and resilience means
as she worked long days to make ends meet
as she showed initiative to move our family forward
and with her example I was able to follow it
except I change it up some
to live a life full of love, community and creativity
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
at 17, the pregnant bride to be got a telegram from her groom
sorry, but I’m betrothed to another and am getting married
at gun point
maybe it was the heavy feeling of rage or her aries nature
and hormones
the jilted bride with a silent fury went to her closet
and took out her ostentatiously beaded wedding dress
and with matches in her hand
she went outside and set fire to it in front of the family home
one of the younger siblings saw the insanity as the bride
stared at it mesmerized by fire that grew and grew
she walked towards it
all sense of reality gone from her
not hearing the screams from her abuela who ran towards her
and just before the bride step foot in the fire
la abuela shook her and slapped her across the face
until the bride reacted, let out a loud wail heard
across the farmland and fainted
aquí esta la versión de Este poema en Ingles.
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12168
una ola de nostalgia me golpea
y casi me ahogo en recuerdos
y toma todo de mi para me quedé
quieta en mi presente
y toma todo de mi para que mi pasado
no arruine la realidad
que estoy viviendo
escribí este poema en febrero del 2024.
dejan su patria por una mejor vida
por el bienestar de su familia
nunca pensando en las consecuencias
de esta decisión
nunca pensando del sufrimiento
que este paso puede causar
y al empezar su nueva vida en américa
se enfrentar con la dura y cruel realidad
de ser inmigrante
nunca siendo aceptados,
siempre ser tratados como algo menos
de ser humanos
siempre teniendo que trabajas el doble, el triple
para poder sobrevivir
nunca dándose el lujo de parar
para procesar sus sentimientos
o lo que están viviendo hasta años después
cuando todo el trauma que vivieron
viene como un huracán en su mente,
en su cuerpo que se adueña de ellos
y no los quiere soltar
here’s the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=11706
llévame a recorrido de tu utopía
del cual tu siempre hablas
el sitio donde no hay trastornos
Mentales
donde todos nos quedamos dormidos
sin la necesidad de tranquilizantes
el cual a todos se le tratan con respeto
y son celebrados por ser diferentes
y no son marginados
o insultados
I wrote this poem in January of 2024.
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
I wrote this poem in September of 2023.
today I woke up overwhelmed, exhausted and in a fit of rage
feeling underappreciated in all of my efforts
to move my family forward
not remembering the last time I had a full day of rest
wondering how to continue this existence
of 60 something work weeks,
and of course the guilt over not spending enough time
with my kids-
I was downtrodden with grief and mad at the world
until my abuela’s story made its way to a conversation
with my coworker and a small light of hope dawned on me
if my illiterate and indigenous abuela Mercedes,
alone in the world could make generational wealth
in the early 1900s
despite the racism, the obstacles, and many tragedies faced
I, too. will not only survive but will also thrive
and continue to shine my light
it’s in my bloodline, my ancestry to evolve,
push myself forward despite obstacles, mental illness,
or life’s tragedies-IT’S UP TO ME!
as a Peruvian woman living in America in the 21st century
to make the best of what’s been given to me
which sometimes feels like the sourest of maize
and turn them in the sweetest and tastiest Chicha
escribí este poema en abril del 2023.
abrazo el árbol de pino para absorber su energía
y para darle mis angustias y tristeza
y rezo por todos que dejaron mi vida
porque sin esas lecciones
no sería la maravilla que soy hoy dia
I wrote this poem in april of 2023.
I put my insecurities and fears on display for the world to see
it’s a most arduous task-it’s not for the weak
at first I thought it was crazy
it was me trying to get attention
it was me seeking validation
and while it may have been these things
it was also brave, courageous
to be so radically honest
about what unnerves me
It’s how I’ve been able to heal
and claim my identity
Life on the BPD 