I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
beautiful women possess a certain kind of power
it’s the power to bring men to their knees
with just one kiss
or make them fall in love
with the prowess of their sexuality
they’re lionesses and make men their prey
I wrote this poem in July of 2025.
your lips on mine taste like happiness on steroids
is this what they call joy
is this what they call euphoria
are you the happy ending I’ve searching for
since the age of 15
are you the reason that I want to burn down every poem
inspired by lovers that aren’t yo
I wrote this poem in July of 2025.
one last hit before we have to call it quits
before we have to move on to new love stories
before we have to grow up and forget
our Alice and Peter personas
and try to find something mature, something healthy,
something long lasting
I wrote this poem in July of 2025.
today I won’t write a poem
because I’ve just lived one
for the past 24 hours
I wrote this poem in July of 2025.
spring love happened unexpectedly
on our first date, he called me his Incan Queen
and sent jolts of electricity though my body
the first time he touched me
and even though it’s too soon to say
if this will be my last chapter in my book
of lust and love and we’re only almost 3 months in
what I can say is that this feel promising, worthy,
and something simply with pure intentions
that feels almost majestic
This is a poem I wrote in July. I was angry when I wrote it. Lol.
celebrating a country that rips babies apart from their parents
and takes away rights from the marginalized
and makes anyone who’s not white and christian feel unwelcome
feels like the cruelest irony
it’s celebrating genocide, racism, prejudice, xenophobia, and white supremacy
it’s celebrating everything atrocious and wrong about this country
it almost feels like a personal violation of my beliefs
to celebrate the hypocrisy of this country
founded on genocide and slavery
who claims liberty and justice for all
but “all” is really white, christian and male
so I’m passing on this year’s 4th of July celebrations
because except for a small portion of Americans
no one can claim true freedom
or independence in this American Land
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
even in our middle age, our mami still tends to us
calling us, asking about our eating habits and love life
giving bits of wisdom and encouragement
still worrying about us
she doesn’t have to
but it’s her nature to do so
it’s a habit of almost half a century that’s hard to break
it’s a tradition of an unconditional mother’s love
What’s the best way to deal with negative thoughts?
On the days when I feel like a complete failure cause I got like 3 or 4 rejection emails for my poems and my bank account is almost in the negative. I do a couple of things.
Or I write a list of new goals and manifestations.
I also remind myself that bad days are inevitable and temporary. Try to remind myself how much progress I’ve had the past 10 years and I’ve been through worst times and made it through the other side. Also, at the very least, I will have gotten inspiration for a new poem so, technically I still win. I also remind myself that rejection and failure are part of the process and have also been my greatest lessons.
I wrote this poem in June of 2025.
When I’m 54, I want some things to stay the same and others to change
I want to love freely unafraid and unashamed and without apologies
without the anxiety I have right now that one day he’ll leave
I want to have the same creative energy that motivates me,
and continue to share mine and my family’s stories
that will continually be seen and make me succeed
I want to not worry so much if it’s a matter of when this epidemic
of violence and madness reaches someone in my family
or live with the fear one of my loved ones will be detained
I want to have hope for the future of my children and descendents
that when I leave this earth things will be better for them
because I did the work so they didn’t suffer and can enjoy life a bit more
also , I want to be filled with financial stability where I’m not doing financial gymnastics
to pay my bills on time and an no longer a slave to my debt
but mostly when I’m 54, I want to have evolved as a healer
who continues to share her light in this world as a poet, writer, and storyteller
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
I”m a complete disaster when it comes to love, well, romantic love
but I’m great at other kinds of love
Loving my children, adoring my friends, worshiping my parents
and of course filling myself with self love
but still I wonder if somewhere in this big wide world
exist an almost ideal lover
who’ll bring out my best and love me at my worse
who won’t put me on a pedestal
and doesn’t scare easily and leave
when he sees all of me
I wrote this poem in June of 2025.
Hold onto joy and magic in times like these
pause, breathe, drink water
Remember your existence is resistance
all of that pain, sorrow and grief felt in your body
Alchemized it into poetry, art,a story
or you could just scream and allow it to exist
understand that the oppressors want to overwhelm you
And make you crazy and over react
using it as an excuse to frame you as the enemy
protect your peace at all costs
if someone threatens it, it’s a sign they’ve
handed you a match to light up
and burn their bridge to you
and finally,
Remember, the distress, the exhaustion is intentional
to burn out your light
Don’t let them
I wrote this poem in June of 2025.
dating a soldier in not for the weak in these modern time
especially now with a civil war and WW3 on the horizon
our new love story could be cut short if he’s deployed
Things can get complicated and messy
if end up dehumanizing or ripping apart families like mine
because its his job
it makes me wonder if we were foolish in the throwing caution
to the wind and getting into a relationship
it makes me wonder if we have any chance of working out
I wrote this poem in June of 2025.
my beloved LA is under siege
the place that saw my immigrant child self grow,
and learn English
the place my parents decided to make their new home
the place with tastiest hot dogs at culver city mall
my beloved LA is under siege
and all I can do is watch the carnage be livestreamed
and I’m transported once again to the L.A riots in 1992
when I was 11 and violence and madness
was a stone’s throw away from our small apartment
while mami pretends nothing’s happening
as she cooks dinner
and we’re all glued to the TV
my beloved LA is under siege
and I couldn’t be prouder of my people standing loud
and with a firm grip of love and justice
for the most vulnerable of us
whose only crime was to come this country
in search for a better life
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
closing the door to love is filling up every moment I’m awake
with work,therapy, my kids activities, time with friends,
Exercise, facing fears, writing, writing, and more writing
because I want to be so busy I don’t have time to think-
to think about romance, to think about what could have been
to think about how nice it is to have someone
so instead, I fill up every second of my life
with everything that fuels my growth
so I don’t have time to think about this love nonsense
I wrote this poem in June of 2025.
we get up and live our daily lives, work, go to school, show up to jury duty
while the new regime is on a warpath to destroy the lives of the most vulnerable
of the marginalized, of those who are not white, cis, and male
we get and continue to live as if the American Gestapo isn’t ripping families apart
and as if city after city isn’t been torn apart and turned into a warzone
Life on the BPD 