Poem of the Day: More Time with Mamacita
Poetry: Joe Goldberg
I wrote this poem in January of this year for a DBT exercise about being creative.
My love for Joe Goldberg is for real
even if he is a psycho serial killer
he might kill me but won’t abandon me
or break up with me
My love for Joe Goldberg is healthy and lovely
It brings a calm and serenity like no other
My love for Joe Goldberg makes me understand
Myself better
I’m like him, in love with love
My love for Joe Goldberg is the only one I want
for now
I’d rather deal with a fictional crazy Joe
rather than a real life asshole
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Happy Halloween! What’s scarier than a regular bitch?
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Poesia: No Quiero Quejarme
For the English version of the poem, click on the link below:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/08/04/poetry-i-hate-to-whine/
No quiero quejarme
pero desperdiciaste mi tiempo
no pensé que fueras otro canalla
o que me dejarías con un hueco tan profundo
Es un dolor constante y tremendo
tu cara manipuladora está grabada en mi mente
No quiero quejarme
pero estaba buscando una señal
que tu eras mi alma gemela
Y no otra persona que me llenaría con odio
Que tu eras el hombre de mis sueños
No otro hombre que rompería mi cordura
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Poetry: Rejection
I wrote this in 2009 about Brad.
Rejection
Is an interruption
Of the infatuation
I felt towards you
Rejection
Is a profound sadness
With a river of tears
That flows down my cheeks
Rejection
Is a broken promise
You made
That breaks my heart
Along with the rest of me
Rejection
Is the start of learning
Who you are
Behind the facade
Of infatuation
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Poem: Depression
I wrote in December of 2012 when I was amidst a great depression.
Recognizing the triggers of
My depression is one of
The hardest things I have to do
It’s when I’m silent
Wishing all the bad things
Would go away
It’s when I stop listening
To music
It’s when I struggle
To open my eyes
And face another dreadful day
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Poetry: Horizon
I wrote this in 2009 when I was feeling contemplative about life.
Horizon
The horizon stretches out before me
In a limitless manner
I see a future but am unsure
Of which path to walk towards
Everything is a blank slate to me
Undefined by my indecision
The moment I choose
Is the moment I’ll become
Something, anything
Than the nothingness
That I am
The horizon stretches out before me
Offering everything and nothing
Offering this or that
Offering a wasted life
Or a meaningful one
The horizon stretches out before me
And I need to stop
My hesitation
And become a person of actions
And do something, anything
So the horizon is not wasted
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Poetry: Restless
I wrote this poem in 2008. One the BPD traits is feeling restless and oh my, I feel this a lot. Sometimes it’s for a few hours, sometimes it’s for a few days and I write about it.
Restlessness lies in
my mind at
night and does
not go away
easily. It invades
my thoughts and
questions me.
Will it ever go
away or will I
become insane?
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Poesia: Mi Valor
Here is the English Version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/12/13/poetry-old-habits/
Ella era un hábito que no podías romper
aunque te di lo mejor de mi
Aunque te di mi amor
No era suficiente para ti
entonces corriste a los brazos de ella
y cuando me entere
me aleje de ti
Mientras ella se quedó contigo
porque yo no soy una estúpida
yo se mi valor
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Poesia: Mentira
Here is the English Version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/10/29/poetry-lies/
Tenías puesto tu disfraz de príncipe azul
para que me queda contigo
Fingiste amarme
Fingiste apreciarme
y yo me creí el cuento
que me estabas contando
Y te amé y tú te volviste mi adicción
pero todo era una mentira
y ahora estoy llena de remordimientos
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Poetry: The Latina Thing
I wrote this in September of 2019 after I read somewhere about some politician making fun of AOC for doing the “Latina Thing”. It annoyed the fuck out of me.
Make fun of our accents-
Make fun of our names-
But y’all never have our rich history
Call us feisty, caliente, spicy
Call us fiery, loud, sexy
But y’all will never have the exotic magic
we carry within ourselves
Try to bully us into silence
Try to put us down
with racist and ignorant insults
But y’all will never have
our immigrant work ethic
or ingrained determination
Try to stereotype us-
Try to make us feel less than
Try to kill us-
But y’all never kill our chingona spirit
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Poetry: Cold
I wrote this in October of 2007.
The freezing cold
hit me as you
said your last
goodbye.
No more warm
and cozy instances
of your body
entrapped with
mine.
Will I ever feel
warm again or
is the cruel cold
a permanent thing?
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Poetry: Sigh
I wrote this in 2007 when I was frustrated with life.
Indentations
of small
frustrations
wear thick
in my
thoughts.
To take them
out is what I
desire to do.
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Poetry: Small
I wrote this in 2007 when I transferred to a 4 year University. It was a rough experience.
I feel small in this enormous and elitist world
it doesn’t seem like I will ever fit
It only seems like a perfect fit
for my younger, blonder, whiter,
and younger counterparts
Older, hispanic, and poor is not acceptable here.
Should I even try ?
When I’m destined for failure on this institution’s steps
Failure on the steps is what I feel here-
a place where my browner, poorer self
feels like an outcast, an undesirable- by the eyes of prejudice
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Poetry : Dreams
I wrote this poem in late 2007 when I was depressed about my life. Again, instead of going to therapy, I just wrote a poem about it. Lol.
Tainted dreams
of life is what
I have left.
A career of abstract
nothingness lies
before me.
Chaotic and sensitive off springs
I must put before me.
Frigidity and
senility in my
marital bed lie
next to me.
Is this it? Is this
what is left
of my
foolish childhood dreams.
Scattered dreams
in my past
become failures
of my present.
Will my soul
ever recuperate
from the cost?
Will I ever be that
hopeful again?
Life on the BPD 