I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
a drunk driver hits an ambulance-
and there is outcry, an uproar over the craziness of it all
we all judge and hate the drunk driver without compassion
without looking in the mirror, without acknowledging
how most of us have made alcohol a staple,
a must need for celebration-
a must have for everyone no matter what social class you’re in
here’s the english version of this poem:
Poetry: My Pathetic Little Beast
cuando las lágrimas quieren salir
busco mi cuaderno y empiezo a escribir
dejo que mi pequeña bestia de creatividad
llena la pagina con todo lo que sofoco y suprimo
llena la pagina con el desmadre y las pendejadas
que ocupan espacio en mi mente
y escribo, escribo, escribo
hasta que encuentro claridad
hasta qué puedo respirar
I wrote these three poems in November of 2022 when I was still married. One thing I wanted to mention about the first poem is that even though my ex no longer serves me breakfast, he’s still super reliable. For example, my car decided to kiss another car this morning (car accident) and he was the first one I called to help as I was overwhelmed. Granted, we still live in the same house but he didn’t have to come and still came. I’m glad we are still able to be friends despite the fact that we’re divorced. I think that when it comes to love, familial and friendship love is the best kind of love there is out there for me.
little reminders
little reminders of how I’m loved
greet me on daily basis
breakfast served by my starter husband
my son asking me if I’m okay
my coworker saying one of my poems moved her
the cold breeze in the air kissing my face
my favorite song playing on the radio at the right time
it’s the little reminders that give me hope in humanity
11/20/22
friends
friends provide everything a lover hasn’t been able to-
an unconditional love and acceptance
where they provide a space for me to be who I really am
they don’t care if I’m dramatic or loud
they encourage me when I’m down
and they never leave me when I’m too much
11/19/22
my community
community is my tia’s buenos dias on whatsapp
or mami’s phone calls to check up on me
community is greeting my fellow runners on my route
or laughing with my coworkers about the latest absurd policy
community is blasting yung gravy from my car radio
or vomiting my feelings out on paper or at open mic
community is everyone and everything I love
11/9/22
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
if my parents hadn’t chosen america as their new homeland
I wonder who I would’ve been
a woman of priviledge married to a man who loves me for me
or would it have been inevitable for me to turn out as a rebel who’d cause many scandals
would I have take my education more seriously because of the pressure from society and my parents
or would I have still struggled with my ADD and said fuck it
I wonder who Peruvian me would have been if I didn’t have a bilingual and bicultural identity
In an ideal world, I would reduce a lot of clutter in my life if my emotionally supportive ex husband moved out. I can’t kick him out though cause my children would cause a ruckus and hate me. Plus, I’m trying to be patient and give him time or find some way we can live apart (I’ve been set on this goal for years), I guess I could find other ways to reduce clutter. I could go through my closet and dresser and get rid of clothes I don’t wear anymore and donate them to goodwill. I could also go through my bookcase and donate books. Honestly, I need to go through my room and the entire downstairs of my house and do a deep decluttering and cleaning. I could also through my google storage and delete the videos, pictures, and files I don’t need since I’m always running out of google storage so this is something I really need to do. My problem is that with little free time I have off, I like to get lost in writing poems, reading, or watch TV and have no desire to do adult things unless I absolutely have to. I guess I could add it to my 2024 goals.
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
They laid him on my breast and told me,
“Meet your baby boy” and I was in shock
the alien on top of me is mine?
this wasn’t supposed to be part of my adolescence
I’m only seventeen and some days I barely remember
to brush my teeth
and now I have this great responsibility
and his beady and angry eyes questions
as to why his comfort was disturb-he already hates the world
and I think , same, kid, same
WordPress, twitter
Instagram, facebook (ew)
tik tok (cringe)
and email(when necessary)
and occasionally tumblr
it’s how I share my art, my beauty,
my vulnerability with the world
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
I go between contacts and glasses to fit my different personas-
in my contacts I’m a pretty woman with makeup and a dress
I become the kind of woman men are nervous to be around
or get intimidated by
In glasses I don’t care to capture the male gaze or even mine
it’s when I work that second job or I’m at home
it’s when I allow myself to just exist
not caring about the pressure to be attractive
or allow my social conditioning to take over
and tell me since I’m this crazy, I need to be pretty, sexy, charming
to validate my existence
Lately I prefer my glasses, lately I want the freedom to just be
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
music and lyrics have always given me a sense of home-
it’s how I’ve grown and evolved
It’s how I learned to express my emotions
when I couldn’t make sense of anything
it fills my soul with love and creativity
it makes me feel a sense of belonging in this world
that looks down on dark and tortured souls
it eases off my loneliness
that sometimes makes me crumble
and leaves me in shambles
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
does someone have a voodoo doll of me and stuck pins inside my head-
inside my heart-because lately I’m finding it hard to breathe
as my emotions consume and control me-
and I feel like the biggest failure and imposter for allowing it to happen
even though I still function well enough to mask
the mountain of turmoil and grief that’s currently residing me
A crazy business idea I came up with this morning is making custom made piñatas. They’re not any old piñatas. They’re piñatas of things or people you absolutely hate. I would also have a private and safe room where you can beat the shit out of the piñata. I’m not sure if they’re anything like this out there in the world. I have seen a piñata of Trump online before so who knows. I imagine that people with anger issues and disposable income would maybe go for this idea. The safe room I’d provide to beat up the piñata would include music tailored to the client’s taste or my own personal rage playlist. I would also decorate the room according to the clients needs. I know that there are things like rage rooms out there, but, do any of them have custom made piñatas?
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
Jealousy is a normal emotion of the human condition
and shame shouldn’t be associated with it
everyone feels it
I used to run away from it
but now I sit with it
ask what it needs
Sometimes it’s me projecting an insecurity
or sometimes it’s a legit feeling
And that’s okay too-
and jealousy doesn’t have to destroy anything
as long as I know how to acknowledge it
and don’t allow it to consume me
An item of my youth I was incredibly attached to was my doll Dandee. I actually had two of these dolls given to me as a young child. The first Dandee was given to me by my aunt shortly after me and my family immigrated to the states when I was 5. This was in 1986. What happened to the first Dandee? Well, it’s a sad story of trauma. When me and my family first moved to the states, we moved into the apartment next to my aunt C and her family. The living situation there was not ideal. Actually that’s the understatement of the year. Here’s a poem I wrote about her:
poetry: target
Anyways my aunt C owned the apartment we were renting so she was our landlord. She was also the one who was giving sponsorship for our green card. At the time we immigrated, we had done so four years earlier than we were supposed to so we lived undocumented for four years. So my Aunt C took advantage of the situation because A) with a call to immigration she could deport all of us back to Peru and B) she was our landlord so she also held control and power over where we lived. It was a terrible situation. Aunt C had a massive 3 year old son J. He was probably one of the most terrible toddlers I’ve ever encountered. Aunt C would not control him and when he would bully me, either hit me or take away my toys, Aunt C would say, “dejalo, es chiquito” which basically translates to “allow him to do whatever because he’s small”. It was hard for my mom to say anything to her or protect me because of the living situation we were in with Aunt C. The best she could do was take me somewhere else. Shortly after Dandee was given to me, he became my most favorite toy in the world. He was given to me by my favorite Aunt Luz. That toy went with me everywhere. However, one day, Dandee was taken away from me by my cousin J, and he wouldn’t give him back. My aunt didn’t do anything to remedy the situation. According to my mom, this broke my little 5 year old spirit and I was inconsolable and cried and cried for days. My papi was upset that my mom wouldn’t say anything to Aunt C. He hated to see me cry every day for that damn doll so even though they really couldn’t afford it (it was an expensive doll), papi went to the toy store and bought a brand new Dandee for me. I was a happy child again taking that doll everywhere with me. Playing with him and my imaginary friend Calincha. Anyways, a few months went by and I was at my aunt C’s house with my mom. I was playing with Dandee and my cousin J came up to me and started trying to take the doll away from me. The adults weren’t doing anything and I got angry. My five year old self could not take the bullying from J anymore and was not going to allow him to take my doll away from me so I punched him and he fell to the floor. I wasn’t punished for it and went back to playing with my doll. My mom tells me that her and my aunt C were surprised by what I did and had no idea until that point that I had a temper. I was always such an obedient and quiet child, it was shocking to them that I had it in me to fight back. Needless to say, my cousin J never messed with me after that day.
So fast forward to 37 years later, that Dandee sits in my bookcase in my room next to the baby Yoda I bought for my youngest son a few years ago (that he didn’t want anyways cause it looked creepy). When I look at Dandee, I’m reminded of my fierce and fiery spirit at 5 years old that I’ve carried with me since then. When I told my sons the story of Dandee, my oldest son said, “Dandee carries your 5 year old warrior girl spirit” and that felt empowering to me. Dandee taught me a lesson in how to take my power back from a situation I thought I had no power or control in.
here is the link to the english version of this poem:
Ser poeta es una locura, una aflicción
es un desmadre que hago cada vez
que palabras de ira, de amor, de desgracia
aparecen en mi página
solo a una loca maldecida
se le ocurre hacer poesía
de sus aventuras y tragedias de su vida
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
we won the national championship and everyone is so happy
and I feel nothing
I graduated from UGA but never felt included
so while I’ve pretended to care, I’ve always felt like an outcast
in a town who cares more about football and idiotic art
and bike lanes for woke and privilege white people
than for their poor and marginalized communities
Life on the BPD 