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 · 3 Comments

poetry: playground

I wrote this poem in August of 2022.

look but don’t come near me

My bra is the milkshake that brings men to my playground
It gives me the cleavage that makes them feel like they’re in love
They’ll claim it’s my words or my eyes they’re in love with , but let’s not kid ourselves
It’s really my majestic breasts that pop out with their own personalities
they fuel their many exotic and erotic fantasies

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: TBH

I wrote this poem in August of 2022.

heartbreak brings up raging hello kitty energy…hahaha

My love data tells me I shouldn’t try again because every time
I crash and burn and cause trauma and drama
because every time it ends, I get hateful and want revenge
and While I do appreciate the poetry that comes
after every broken relationship
I don’t think I can withstand the heartbreak and hardship
the next time it ends

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: IHOP

I wrote this poem in August of 2020.

this was the best AI generated Art could do…idk,,lol

I met you on a cold January night at the IHOP
across your apartment complex
As I was eating up my loneliness
with scrambled eggs and coffee
I hoped you couldn’t see remnants
of tears that had fallen before you came
and you sat across from me
and as we awkwardly made conversation
I wondered if you would be the one
to breathe new life into my almost dead existence
I wondered if your kiss would help me
reignite a fire of desire, would remind me
I’m more than a wife and mother
But most of all I wondered if maybe, just maybe
someone would finally love me

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: tradition not kept

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

me with my oldest in August of 2023

Children should be seen, and not heard is one tradition I’ll never keep
It would mean invalidating my children’s feelings
It would mean for them to have years of therapy trying to find their sense of identity
It would mean to reduce them to shadows who only speak when spoken to
It would mean passing them the torch of a generational curse that makes them question their self-worth over and over again
So everyone can judge me or criticize my parenting all they want
I like my children to not just be seen but also heard
even if it’s sometimes loud and boisterous
even if it sometimes sounds disrespectful
It’s important for their emotional growth, for their confidence
and to break and heal the generational curse where children are silenced

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: useless

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

the monster of Depression vs Man—AI generated art from wordpress

talking about how mental health is health is useless in times like these
times when someone takes their own life
not enough actions or preventative measures were taken
it’s always too late to say “this was preventable”
when really we’re all too selfish, too lazy to extend a helping hand
to someone in pain, to someone who is an enemy to himself

Posted on by pattytacuri

poesia: es mi vida

here’s the English version of this poem:

Poetry: Did I Ask For Your Advice?

los consejos y críticas de los otros
me hacían sentir como una fracasada
como que no estaba haciendo lo suficiente
para mejorarme
y cuando era una chava esto me volvía loca
pero ya que soy una señora
me rio, tomo lo que útil y rechazo lo demás
y sigo con mi vida

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: dumpster fires

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

best advice ever

all of us have been or will be dumpster fires
it doesn’t matter who you are
man, woman or non binary
white, black or brown
with or without a mental health diagnosis
working class or upper class
at one point or another we’ll all be toxic to another person
or to ourselves
some of us admit it and cringe
some of us will ignore it or blame someone else
all of us have been or will be dumpster fires
it’s a rite of passage