poetry: pieces

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

given the role of cycle breaker

pieces of my abuela bleed into my mami which bleeds into me
and I’m the vessel of the generational trauma inherited
and given the role of cycle breaker
I go against societal norms and conventions
and I’m always the odd one out
always the one who never belongs, who never fits in
until I find sanctuary in poetry, friendships,
and my own creative community
and while the trauma inherited still lives in me
I find a purpose for it as i share abuela’s, mami’s, and my stories
through poetry and slowly those generational wounds
start to heal and turn into scars

poetry: marionettes

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

AI Generated Liz Taylor

Mae West and Liz Taylor knew how to take up space in a man’s world
and that was the problem with them
it intimidated the fuck out of the men who worked with them,
who loved them
so they were ostracized, made to be cautionary tales
the minute they got out of line
so much beauty partnered with intelligence
made them a target in a patriarchal society
that like their women cute and mute
like the marionettes they can pull strings on

Poetry: Spiritual Journey

Summer Child

The journey into the broken pieces of my soul makes me cry out from agony felt
Solitude, vitamins, a healthy and boring routine
Affirmations with big and healthy dose of self compassion
are the requisites for healing and growth-
it’s a spiritual journey into healing my inner child
and it fucking hurts

poetry: 80s TV

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

ai generated Peg Bundy

jem, brenda walsh, peg bundy, and many more empowered women
made their way to my tv screen in the 80s
when I was an immigrant child living in poverty
these characters helped me understand women are complex
and not the meek and submissive beings
my culture and religion led me to believe
these characters made a strong impression on me as a young girl
I didn’t have to live the story of the mujer sufrida
or saintly martyr
I could just be me and that would be enough

Poetry: experiment

What curse to be a lovergirl 😭

The experiment of life leaves me breathless with rage
Why keep trying love on over and over again
when it continually abandons me
It’s like a balloon
I’m filled up with joy and happiness
and then there’s life’s pin of reality
makes my balloon burst
and I’m reduced to nothingness until I find rage
to fuel me to move forward
it’s exhausting, it’s madness

poetry: day of the dead

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

this day of the dead, I’ll pay reverence to my female ancestors
i’ll build a shrine with their pictures and letters to honor them
it’s the least I can do do the generational gifts passed down to me
this day of the dead, I’ll pay reverence to my female ancestor
write down their stories and later on share them
remember that doing this heals something in me,
something in them

poetry: pick me girls

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

the pick me girls of the 60s

haven’t we all been pick me girls at the same point in our lives
with our push up bras, our twirling the hair, our miniskirts,
our not so subtle flirty behaviors
it’s the ways the patriarchy conditioned as to be in order
to find love, to find companionship in order to have a life
worth living in a society that tends to value women
according to who’s she’s holding hands with
haven’t we all been pick me girls at some point in our lives
have we all been brainwashed by the patriarchy?

poetry: a year from now

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

I’m the magician

a year from now things will be radically different
I will not be stewing in my misery and making poetry out of it
instead I’ll be more empowered, more creative than ever
instead I’ll be wiser and stronger understanding
the rollercoaster of the storms of 2024 was needed
to inspire another cathartis, another catalyst for change
the universe had to humble me for a bit
to remind me of what’s really important
to assess how I’ve been living my life
and whether or not the many hours were worth killing myself over
a year from now this will be radically different
I’ll have a deeper knowledge, understanding and clarity
about what’s in alignment with me
life will be more balanced, more full of joy
and with an abundance of everything that inspires me
everything that brings purpose to my life

Obsession

Daily writing prompt
What are you passionate about?

My yen to better myself is has become an obsession
causing me constant frustration
being so self aware of my unhealthy patterns
leads me to self flagellation
Oh another poem about how I’m so toxic
or I’m a perpetual love addict
or I do everything wrong when it comes to love
When will I reach a point of enough
Enough with pointing out my faults
Enough of feeling my self imposed emotional claws
Enough of acting like I’m a monster
and how I’m consumed by anger
I know that healing means being self aware
but there’s gotta be something on the other side
of this constant despair

poetry: bothered

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

trying to not be bothered

when I’m bothered, when I’m embarrassed, when my inner critic
starts knocking on my mind’s door
the best thing I can do is reapply my lipstick, write some angry seΓ±ora poetry
Remember the goddess that I am, and take my power back
I’m not some stupid and weak little bitch some people perceive me to be
(that narrative ended at age 40)
now, I take the disrespect and insults with grace
keep my composure, pretend I’m unbothered
even as I fume inside
I still keep on going
I won’t make a big fuss or call anyone out
that story usually ends with me being gaslit and called crazy
instead I adhere to the age old adage β€œaqui no paso nada”
Really being the opposite which is everything
my anger, rage, grief being the fuel to become better
to prove to myself and others
I’m not the mentally unstable bitch society perceives me to be

poetry: when

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

trying find balance among the chaos

lately life has been a most unfortunate chain of events
and my universe is upside down
can’t tell which way is up, which way is down
I just want relief from this elephant of pressure
that sits on my chest
I know that it will get better
I know a sudden rush of clarity will come after this
but the not knowing when is killing me

poetry: bomb

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

so annoying

the bomb of my insanity explodes and I try my best
to do damage control
tell my paranoid inner child not everyone’s out to get me
but it’s too late and I fall once again under the spell of depression
I try every single coping mechanism and it’s futile
I just need to sit and acknowledge my inner critic
and the dark and intrusive thoughts that come up
Understand and accept that shit is temporary
there will be better times ahead
for now it’s just annoying

poetry:not right now

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

trying to be logical

love will have to wait while i switch the gears from survival mode to triunfadora mode
right now I can only concentrate on existing and putting one foot in front of another
right now I only have the energy and time to focus on myself
and digging myself out of the latest catastrophe I find myself in
right now is not the time for crushes or new relationships
it wouldn’t be fair to him to invite him into my current chaos
right now I stand alone, get myself together
before trying to fall into the magic of love again