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poetry: I’m a fucking delight

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

I’m okay…just let me turn my pain into art

I try my best to take delight in my life and enjoy everything good
but fuck it, if I have to be honest with myself-
sometimes the depression gets the best of me
and I drink and write sad and pathetic things
about how I want to cut my wrists and watch the blood leave my body
maybe I’m just embracing the cliche of being a tortured artist
or my darkness needs a place to fucking go-
at least I’m now acknowledging it instead of suppressing it-
and I almost spiral into a cycle of self loathing
but instead say “fuck it- this is who I fucking am sometimes”-
An emo girl caught up in her trauma and hormones-
Wait-how did this poem turn into–
Oh yeah-the prompt delight
well whatever this is its the best drunk and depressed me has to give
to my creativity tonight

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Sharing my story

Me at open mic last month

What’s the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make? Why?

I’ve taken off my mask and stop repressing my true self-
And while it’s terrifying at times, I show the world my authenticity
and vulnerability
I share the parts of my story that are terrible, happy, sad, lovely, crazy, beautiful, and tragic
so others don’t feel alone and find solidarity
in my chaotic and bicultural story of love, rage, defeat, hate, and resilience
And bring to light my rich and vivid experience of the duality of being a rooted and rootless,
Peruvian and American, a hateful and kind woman living her life fearlessly and shamelessly

4/24/23

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Words

Me with my boys at my niece’s Quinceñera

Who are your current most favorite people?

My favorite words are my sons names

names that taught me about patience

and unconditional love

names that have made me get up

when I didn’t want to 

names that fill me with faith and hope

when I’m about to lose it

names that make me want to become 

a better person than I was yesterday

names  I live for  

names  I would die for 

7/6/22

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poetry: chalk line

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

always a Reina

I used to be an expert at throwing my own pity parties
I drew a chalk line of the outline of my body
and called myself the victim of my life
It was before self-awareness kicked in,
it was before radical honesty
it was comforting to drown in my misery
but now, if I feel myself treading in a sea of self-pity
I look back on all of the progress I’ve made
and all of the healing I’ve done
and am reassured I’m not a victim anymore
I never really was
I was always a diamond buried under a mountain
of mental illness-and now I shine
with the queen energy that took me a long time
to uncover

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poesía: puerta cerrada

here’s the english version of this poem:

Poetry: Poor and Destitute

apareció en mi puerta con una mirada vacía
pidiéndome un poco de dinero para su adición
pero me acordé de su nuestro pasado tumultuoso
y le digo no
ella me trata de chantajear con nuestro enlace de sangre
pero no me dejo manipular
hoy elijo mi tranquilidad, mi paz, y mi salvación
hoy cierro la puerto
a anos y anos de trastornos que ella causó,
que ella me hizo sufrir por su egoísmo
hoy empieza una nueva etapa en mi vida
donde por primera vez siento la ruptura de la cadenas
de codependencia de mi familia

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poetry: slow down

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

my soul commands me to slow down and listen in silence to what I need
It tells me to not suppress anything-even it looks angry
another mean and petty poem appears
it’s okay, it’s shadow self needing to be seen
it’s a part of my identity that doesn’t define me
my soul tells me I’m not worst or best moments
I’m more complicated than that
I’m a woman full of trauma search for the calm in the chaos
that is her life

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Poesía: otra guerra

Here’s a link to the English version that inspired this poem. The original poem was about the war in Afghanistan and the Spanish poem below is about Gaza.

Poetry: Oil and Greed

otra guerra fútil financiada por los Estados Unidos
y el mundo con los ojos abiertos ve el genocidio terrorífico
que se transmite en vivo en las redes sociales
Hombres, mujeres, y niños inocentes heridos y asesinados-
madres con cesáreas sin anestesia
familias aniquiladas en sus propios hogares
supuestos santuarios bombardeados
y los héroes de la justicia alzan su voz
para denunciar las atrocidades cometidas
mientras los demás tienen temor en decir algo
los único que podemos hacer es rezar y escribir poesía
para procesar la falta de respeto a la humanidad

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poetry: staying sober

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

fucking facts

staying sober from a lover is not easy for a love addict like me
it’s crying in bed wishing I was dead
it’s loneliness, making me crumble in a ball on the floor
making me feel unloved
and even though I have the cure with a text
to someone who’d put me out of my misery
I’d rather suffer for a while
even if it is a hell of a withdrawal
because if I’m ever going to have a healthy relationship
I need to be comfortable first with solitude
and the much needed introspection and healing it brings

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poesía: cuatro años

Here’s the English version of this poem:

Poetry:Childhood Lies

buscando paz y seguridad-
mis padres dejaron nuestra patria por otra-
pensando que sería una mejor vida para todos
nunca pensaron que seríamos menospreciados
y maltratados por cuatro años
por nuestra falta de inglés y documentos

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poetry: chaos 2019

I wrote this poem in november of 2022.

me in 2019

the chaos within won’t let me sleep, won’t let me be-
I worry and worry and worry
about my kids, my bills, my productivity
and I fall into the purgatory of what could have beens
and of my many lost dreams
and disappointment and depression covers me
There was so much I wanted to be
I am the opposite of the American Dream
a woman dependent on her husband
a woman stuck in the depths of her insecurities
and anxiety
who longs to escape from this self imposed
stagnant mediocre reality

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poetry: comparisons

aqui esta la versión en español:

poesía: mi nueva felicidad

let me sabotage this new relationship by comparing him to my ex-
the one I still write poems about, the one who still visits me in my dreams
the one who wouldn’t leave his wife or other lovers for me-
my new boyfriend treats me with respect and is such a calm guy
my friends tell me this is healthy but I find it boring
I miss being last on someone’s list
I miss being treated as an afterthought
I miss the inner chaos and conflict that came from the uncertainty
of not knowing if my lover was sure of me-

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: psychopathy

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

should have apologized there, Brad

five years ago, I was obsessed with a psychopath
he made me believe he wanted only me
he made himself out to be single for 10 fucking years
but one day I found out through his dad’s obituary he was married
and I severed our connection without any remorse or apologies from him
he claimed he didn’t do anything wrong, he was just a private person
that day I received my honorary degree in psychopathy

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poetry: it’s cool, it’s okay

Aqui esta la version en espanol:

poesía: gracias a ti

cupid gets it wrong once again-
bringing out a drawn out rejection for a month-
This time he tells me,
“You’re cool enough to make out with
but not good enough for my mom”
I almost throw my phone across the room
instead I say “it’s cool.it’s okay”
and take a pen to my rage on paper