Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: improvement

I wrote this poem in April of 2023.

my son living his best life

the freedom and independence in my son
brings me a sense of pride with so much happiness
I see his fiery spirit shine from within
and his light is so bright-
I know I’ve done something right
he’s not afraid to take risks, he’s not afraid of failure
He’s not afraid to be himself
and I breathe a sense of relief
he will not bear the sense of forced obligations
or burden of expectations I had-
instead he’ll make himself and his happiness
a priority above all else
while still caring for humanity
it’s the beginning of breaking a generational curse
of obedient and silent martyrdom
that’s been inherited for generations

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: we all fuck up

I wrote this poem in April of 2023.

me in Oxapampa in April of 2023

we all fuck up from time to time and have to remind ourselves
we are not our worst mistakes, our terrible breakups, or our emotional relapses
to be human is to make mistakes and sometimes those mistakes will feel catastrophic
and that’s when your inner critic with the help of shame and guilt will step in
trying to make you feel like a piece of shit, worthless and useless when it comes to everything
acknowledge it, honor it if you have to but don’t get stuck in it
because this is not the entirety of you
this is just a small fraction of your being-
don’t get caught up in the worst of yourself-
remind yourself of your strength and the gifts that you bring into this world

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: always

I wrote this poem in April of 2023.

always never works out for me

Always has never been a friend of mine
because of the many lies I associate with it
I’ll always be here for you-
I’ll always love you
I’ll always be your friend
so now I never believe people who say always
Instead, I look at them with cynicism
And tell them, “that’s nice but I don’t believe you”

Posted on by pattytacuri

poesía: agradecida

here’s the English version of this poem:

Poetry: License

agobiada y frustrada desde una temprana edad
con la responsabilidad de mi maternidad
nunca tuve tiempo para apreciar la bendición que eran mis hijos
Nunca pude entender que mis hijos son el mejor regalos
que me pudo dar el universo
pero después de cumplir 40
y recibí un diagnóstico que cambiaría mi vida
Por fin pude sentir una gratitud verdadera por mis tres reyes
Por fin pude apreciar la felicidad que ellos me brindan
Por fin pude convertir mi historia de madre frustrada
a madre feliz y orgullosa

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: circle of fury

I wrote this poem in April of 2023.

pmdd is awful

Anger trickles in throughout my body
I didn’t get enough sleep
and the monster of PMDD is creeping in
I scream at the universe
for playing a certain song on the radio
And I get annoyed by everything
I hate being so sensitive and triggered
by the stupidest shit
I hate being mentally ill
I hate how the smallest change in my routine
causes me to spiral into nonsensical circle of fury

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: hands

I wrote this poem in March of 2022.

facts

The hands of ego and pride kept them apart
They chose themselves instead of following their hearts
it was tragic to see how many lies they weaved
I don’t love her, I don’t love him
they held on tightly to their anger, went back to their safety nets
it was more comfortable to do so then to fall back into their chaos

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

poetry: rope bunny

I wrote this poem in March of 2022.

addicted to the pain

Cover me up in rope and tie me up every which way you want
It’s fine, it’s okay honey, I’m used to it by now
Men and society have been tying me up since I could breathe
So a real rope won’t bring me much harm
take control of me like you own me, tonight I don’t want to think
It’s not much different from the way every man in my life has treated me
so do whatever you want with me and make me your ultimate rope bunny

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: does this person even exist?

I wrote this poem in March of 2022.

for real for real

I used to want a lover who looked at me like I was magic
now I want a lover who sees the real me and doesn’t leave
someone who doesn’t scare easily when I cry in front of them
and instead holds me and offers me kind words of solace
someone who accepts that I’m both angel and devil
and doesn’t hold it against me
Someone who’s persistent enough to get through my emotional walls
even when I’m closed off because of trauma
this kind of lover won’t be ideal and will have his own set of issues
but it’s the only kind I’ll accept from now
Because lovers who have looked at me like I was magic
quickly disappear when a strong wind of my insanity ruins me
me for them and they say, “fuck me, I didn’t sign up for this”

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: when I tell you I’m poet

I wrote this poem in March of 2023.

bruh, I’m more than just a pretty face

When I tell you I’m a poet-
please take me seriously
don’t think I’m some cute girl
who writes a few verses in her room
about how your kiss is a new kind of heaven
Poetry for me has a much deeper meaning,
poetry is how I bleed out all of my emotions
I hold within

When I tell you I’m a poet-
please don’t laugh at me or mock me
don’t berate the simplicity of my words
I weave into verse
It’s how I make sense of my explosion of thoughts
It’s how I express what I can’t say out loud

When I tell you I’m a poet-
don’t try to cure me of my poetic nature
and prey on my insecurities and try to kill
my dreams of making my art seen
I know how the odds are stacked against
someone like me
I don’t do it to make it to the mainstream-
I do it so other women like me
can be seen, can be inspired to dream

And finally when I tell you I’m a poet-
Appreciate the artist in me,
make yourself a sanctuary to put my poetry in-
I’m not asking for endless compliments or an ego boost
I’m asking for a safe space in you to love
the poet I hold within

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: a lesson in dialectics

I wrote this poem in March of 2023.

one of my favorite shirts

How many times have I lied to myself
when I was young in believing some man’s love
would save me, would complete me
when all it ever did was decimate me
over and over again
but I refused to believe love could be anything
but beautiful
Until one day I learned to be honest with myself
and it was a lesson in dialectics
of how love can be both an ugly and beautiful thing

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: was I joe?

I wrote this poem in March of 2023. My reference is to Joe Goldberg from the show “YOU” and not Joe Biden( who is in his own right a monster as well.lol)

random thoughts from my 15 year old self

I sit around in horror-
flagellating myself for comparing myself
to a monster
I know that this was the only way to cope and process
with emotions that threatened to crush me
but if I had to be honest with myself
it makes me question the reality I was living in
and maybe the psychotic who resided inside of me