I wrote this poem in college in 2006.
Literary movements, artistic movements, historical movements
Does it matter for everything to be categorized
the way it is? Really?
When what is of greatest importance
are the movements that stirs inside that warrants us
to create change or art
it’s the movement of emotions,
it’s the movement of our hearts,
the movement of our conscious
to express poetry, prose, or art
to inspire or heal others
with our original creations
Here is the link to the English Version of this poem:
Poetry: The Liar
Escribí este poema en 1997 cuando me enojo con el padre biológico de mi hijo mayor. Me desilusione cuando el paro de llamarme.
Creí cuando me dijiste
que me amabas
Fui una tonta en confiar en it
Creyéndome tus promesas falsas
Fuiste cruel al usarme para apagar
tu sed primal
Me dejaste como otra víctima
de tu juego desalmado de amor
Tu corazón debe ser hecho de hielo
para mentir por tu antojo sexual
I wrote this poem in late 2005 when I was going to school full time, working part time and raising two kids.
Trapped in a maze
Not knowing where to go
Gotta get out of this place
Before becoming conformity’s whore
A maze with traps
Like kids and responsibilities
It’s all getting too suffocating
And I can’t breathe
I wrote this narrative poem in 2005 in my creative writing class.
I will tell you my loving tale
About the day I saw
The most incredibly hot male
Standing in the raw
Naked, he was as a newborn
Why and how I did ask
He asked me not to be a thorn
To enjoy as he basked
And I did enjoy this great view
But still I did ask
What is this visit due to?
And will it be the last?
All he did was show me his teeth
And replied “no its not”
A lot of me you’ll bequeathed
It’s you I’ve always sought
And this was the ending of my tale
About the day I learned
From that translucent and wise male
Love can pleasantly burn
For the English Version of this poem, click on this link:
Este poema de 1997 fue inspirada por una noche inolvidable que cambiaría mi vida.
A las 7 de la noche
me recogiste del trabajo
me llevaste a tu casa
y de allí a tu cuarto
donde tocaste Fleetwood Mac
Y bailamos con un deseo único
Y tus manos tocaron mi cuerpo
como un instrumento bien dominado
y mi cuerpo empezó a temblar con deseo hacia ti
De repente nuestra ropa cayó al piso
Y caímos en tu cama
donde bailamos con nuestro cuerpos
llenos de ardor
ansiosos de juntarse
en un éxtasis mágico
I wrote this poem in 2005 when I was drenched in self doubt over my poetry. Doesn’t every writer or poet go through this?
I try to write words
that smoothly flow
But they don’t come to me easy
Maybe I just suck at poetry
But I will keep trying and praying
I will become good at this thing
Before I painfully decide
To give up this poetic life
And on paper try to make some sense
of my emotional nonsense
For the English version of this poem, click on the link below:
Poetry: That Night
Escribí este poema en 1997 inspirada por la noche que conocí al padre biológico de mi primer hijo. Tengo una forma extrema de idealizar a mi pareja al principio de una relación.
Aquella noche
Tomaste mis manos sudadas en las tuyas
Y mi corazón latió rápido y furiosamente
Aquella noche
Me hundí en tus ojos profundos y sinceros
Y supe que eras un amor verdadero
Aquella noche
Me abrazaste fuerte
me hiciste sentir que todo era posible
Aquella noche
besaste mi cuello gentilmente
Y besaste mis labios con un ardor único
Aquella noche
Me enseñaste tu amor
y hiciste parar el tiempo
Aquella noche
Encontré todo lo que estuve buscando
en tus brazos
I wrote this in 2006 inspired by my husband’s parents.
Many of us speculate
Why and how these two met
She was always literature’s mate
he was very well unread
But still these two started
A very fruitful fairytale
One without castles
Or a tall, tall bed
But one that would blossom
Into a lovely romance
that would bring me
my special somebody
For the English version of this poem, click on the link:
Escribí este poema en 1997 . Estuve inspirada por una ira fuerte que tuve contra una de mis exes.
Eres una canalla
y eso me entristece
Presionas a las mujeres
con tonterías
para que se acuesten contigo
A ti no te importa
como ellas se sienten después
De ser usadas para tu placer primal
Nunca pensaste que una de ellas
se vengaría de ti
Ahora pasas tu vida en tu cama
Porque eres un maldito desgraciado
Que irónico es todo esto
porque tenías que agregar otra a tu lista
de mujeres usadas
I wrote this inspired by the first time I met Andrew. I think I kept on thinking about him and getting nostalgic because I was so carefree and happy when I was with him.
Not a boy but not yet a man
He took my sweaty hand
Dancing was his aim
Andrew was his name
And with his clown feet
He showed me moves so weak
And an excuse I was about to invent
But then the moment went
And that was our when
the slow music started to lure
strong emotions started to brew
Innocent love soon ensued
I was his world, he was mine
We were the most perfect rhyme
But then reality hit
A truth we couldn’t beat
And even though I’ve moved on
It’s Andrew, I’ll always yearn for
Here is a link to the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?s=jimmy+boy
Escribí este poema en 1996 cuando estaba bien enojada después de una ruptura romántica. Siempre tuve un temperamento horrible.
¿Porque actúas como un niño pequeñito?
Por ser un pendejo
y hacer que tu chica se sienta como un chiste
No más piensas en ti
Y no te importa las otras personas
Niño pequeñito, niño pequeñito
para ti, las chicas son juguetes
Piensas que eres el gran Papi Chulo
Y hacer que tu chica se sienta mal
Jugando juegos estúpidos
te muestras como un verdadero inútil
I wrote this in 2006 thinking back on my time with Lucas.
A shadow of our friendship
is all there is left
After life gets in the way
of wanting something more
And when I see you around
A wave, a nod
An acknowledgement we once knew
Each other
Our conversations are now long gone
But we’re forever etched in each
other’s minds and dreams
Life on the BPD 