Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: september

I wrote this poem in September of 2023.

exactly

September comes in with a rage and determination in my heart
to keep on moving with a new purpose
to heal and evolve into the healthiest version of myself
without condemning myself over my past misdeeds
and obsessing over how toxic I once was
so what if I allowed myself to be a doormat,
to be stepped on over and over again?
so what if I wasn’t the mom my kids deserved?
Every day is a brand new start to live a life
Intentionally and with purpose
to continue to grow, build, and expand exponentially
because while my past has impacted me
and I’m still dealing with the consequences of it
I need to move past it, leave it behind
I’ve learned everything I need to learn from it
now it’s time to build my present for the future
I deserve to live in

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: words

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

I’m armed with my notebooks and journals full of poems and stories

what cannot be said aloud will be written in a poem
for better or worse
I have a tendency to process my emotions
in metaphors and verse
and while many wouldn’t call what I write poetry
because I lack technique or an MFA
or whatever else I’m missing
I’m going to keep writing my raw emotions
Down and sharing them
My words hold value,
My words have power
And it has helped and a few other souls
when our feelings lack logical explanations
and reasons
For better or worse I’m going to continue
to tell my story in poetry

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: no one is coming to rescue you

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

such a hard lesson to learn

No one is coming to rescue you, princess
no matter how much you wish to be saved or try your hardest to  manifest
a prince to carry the heavy burden of responsibility
you’re constantly lifting
No one is coming to save you, princess
It’s up to you to save yourself
It’s up to you to continue to work hard
and be selective on what you expend
your energy on
No one is coming to help you, princess
You’re no longer relying on others
for a sense of identity or security
and you’re now an independent Queen
who’s learned only she herself
can save herself and is wise enough to block out
any negativity or toxicity
that threatens her autonomy
or wants to bring on another
Emotional relapse

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: doomed

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

exactly

Am I doomed to men trying me on
just so they can change their minds-
days, weeks, months, years later
is it some kind of karmic energy in me
I still haven’t found the remedy for?
Perhaps I really need to stop trying
to find hope in love
and stick to what’s working for me
and that’s being alone

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: coffee

I wrote this poem in July of 2023.

“I am your sweetheart psychopathic crush”- Lorde

I collect crushes like little boys collect pokemon cards
I’m addicted to the potential of love
without doing anything about it
except to occasionally test their waters
Nonchalantly sliding into their DMs
And posting a thirst trap selfie
and celebrating with a love song
when one of them likes it
or comments on it
hoping one of them sees past my salty poetry
hoping one of them is brave enough
to ask me out for coffee
and wants to get to know the real me

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: prophecy

I wrote this poem in July of 2023.

me and my stupid brain

the tragedy of my anxiety is that I overthink things
until I sabotage everything
and while I’ve worked on this for a couple of years
I still have problems when good things happen to me
It’s the demon of insecurity coming back to fuck with me
who wants me to fulfill my self fulfilling prophecy of defeat

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poetry: FUCK LOVE

I wrote this poem in July of 2023.

fuck love and fuck whatever my bangs were trying to do in this pic

I gave the middle finger to love for a few reasons
I like to stay emotionally regulated
I like to not be on the brink of suicidal ideation
Every other week
I needed to find out who I was
without anyone distracting me
And for once in my life
I needed to make myself a priority

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: seeds

I wrote this poem in July of 2021.

I’m someone’s psychos sexual dream come true

Seeds of resentment and anger creeps up in my throat
Men who claim to care and love me just want to control me
And me, well i’m just a weak thing, a rag doll
To be used at their convenience,
Be a nice girl, be a good girl, be a sweet girl
Work hard and play by the rules of their game
Be kind, be submissive, be sexy

Seeds of resentment and anger creeps up in my throat
And I want to be burn them all down
With my actions, with my words, with a tweet
I can’t be controlled or stay submissive
For I am too powerful, too crazy, too opinionated
To be tied to this illusion and false idea
They want to have of me
I am a bitch, a vixen, a bad ass
I own my sexuality, my independence, my life
And no one, no one can ever own m

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: bones

I wrote this poem in July of 2023.

truth

My bones did not bend back to how they used to be
after you left, they hardened, became dense
and formed a circle around my heart
And every time I try to soften them
to allow the potential of a new love in
it stubbornly refuses to soften a single bit
no matter how amazing that new potential may be

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

I got mace

I’m ready to fight back with all of my BPD rage
Daily writing prompt
What bothers you and why?
View all responses

mace sits next to my insect repellent in my backpack
gone are the days where I could go on a solitary walk
without worrying if someone evil is lurking nearby
gone are the days where I could turn the volume all the way up
in my earbuds and forget about everyone else
and meditate and write in nature
soon I’ll be looking up self defense classes
to cover all of my bases
I’m too important to fall victim to bad luck
and become another statistic in the epidemic of femicide
still I dare anyone to come at me
this time I’m armed with the rage of my ancestors and BPD

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poetry: two years ago

I wrote this poem in July of 2023.

always a heroine in the making

I don’t recognize the woman I was two years ago
and I’m most grateful for that
always dependant and clingy
always insecure, always settling for the trifles of attention
given to her by men
and never confident to share who she really was
always suffocating her needs and wants for the benefit of others
the woman I was two years ago didn’t know
the magical and powerful creature she was
and how even despite her issues
she was a heroine in the making

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: Modern Day Marie Antoniette

I wrote this poem in July of 2023.

and sometimes those meltdowns include angry poems like this one…lol

she thinks she should be thanked for flexing her confidence
clothed in privilege and luxury by posting advice to women
about how dining alone in a fancy restaurant is women’s empowerment
and I have an adverse reaction that makes me want to vomit
it feels like a modern day Marie Antoniette moment
perhaps it’s because I’m a working class immigrant woman
who struggles in America
perhaps it’s because the rights of the marginalized and working class
are being ripped away from us
and on my social media feed, this yuppie and elitist bullshit appears
how can I be friends with this bleached blonde Barbie
oh yeah, we worked together briefly
and I almost start to comment with an essay on how she should
check her privilege before handing out tokens of toxic positivity
while people like me are drowning in debt and lack financial stability
but I stop
this barbie isn’t worth my time or energy
it’s time to unfriend and unfollow the marie antoinette wannabe
who only serves to trigger my working class rage
who serves to remind of the injustice and inequality
in this capitalistic and racist American society