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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.

what I think of the haters

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: Small

I wrote this in 2007 when I transferred to a 4 year University. It was a rough experience.

me with my friends in 2007

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.

none of us know what we’re doing

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?

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Poetry: Waiting

This another poem inspired about the great breakup of 2001. I probably wrote this when it first happened. My sense of reality is shook up after a break up and it feels like a never ending nightmare that I’ll never wake up from after it happens. This doesn’t happen with every break up…just the ones that really affect me.

Waiting 

So I wait for the phone to ring
To hear you say
this loneliness has all been a horrible dream
So I wait for you to show up at my door
To tell me you can’t stand being away from me no more
So I wait for your love letter in my mailbox
To begin getting back together

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Poetry: Fence

I wrote this in 2007 about my husband. I was frustrated that he was always so guarded with his emotions and his past. I hated that I could give him my vulnerability and he couldn’t give me his. Looking back now, I should have realized how incompatible we were at the time, but my stubborn and optimistic self wanted things to badly work.

me around the time I wrote this poem

A steel and locked fence guards you.

It does its job well.

Your insecurities and emotions never

come out to play with mine.

Your past never comes out to 

join mine in a game of nostalgia.

Will your fence ever open for me?

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Poetry: False Stability *trigger warning*

I wrote this in March of 2020 as I was reflecting on my suicide attempt in December of 2016. I don’t remember writing this poem but that could be because it was a crazy time for me since I was an essential worker during COVID.

me in March of 2020 when I wrote this poem

Appearances were kept well for 15 years
the husband, the salaried job, the 3 off springs
I pretended like everything was fine
And yet there were ominous signs
I never felt like my authentic self
and always felt false
I tried on this so called suburban bliss
and mediocre routines
but knew it just wasn’t me
So I ended up in profound misery
And one day I wanted to forever sleep
To forget my mediocre reality
I took 15 numb feeling pills
one for every pseudo happy year
I wanted to slip into a forever dream
to never wake up to my false stability

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Poetry: Long Ago

I wrote this poem about my husband in 2006 when we were in a rut of routine and being parents. I remember thinking how hard it was at the time to reconnect with him.

Long ago…

Passion was lost

Where did it go?

What has it turned into?

Perhaps into comfortable feelings

Of gratitude and friendship

And boring things like that

But how can we find once again?

The long lost passion 

That we once had. 

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Poetry: Free

I wrote this in 2006 when I was frustrated and fantasized about leaving my husband.

deserving better

What if I don’t think?
About our precious link
And decide to go
Without letting you know
And let you wake up
Free of our never ending rut

What if I don’t feel your love
And am no longer good enough
And continue to fight for us
And leaving you becomes a must

What if I choose to be free
and leave you abruptly
and live my life without you
because I finally learned my value

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Poetry: Lame

This is another poem about the bio dad of my oldest son. Obviously I had a lot of anger directed at him that I should have gone to therapy for but instead I just wrote a lot of angry poetry. Ha.

me and my oldest son in 2006

You don’t know him and chances are 

 You never will

You could’ve been somebody real in his life

But you BLEW IT! 

So now is the time to say 

Goodbye forever.