three poems about my political views

taking an oath to Trump was traumatic -ew
Daily writing prompt
How have your political views changed over time?

new America

are we going in time with our lack of rights
with prejudices more overt-
this is suppose to be a first world country
and yet no one is safe
sending my child to school
i pray he’ll come back in one piece
going to work
I hope a mentally ill or disgruntled employee
doesn’t walk in with revenge in his mind
and a gun in his hand
and i’m even afraid of sex
birth control isn’t fool proof
and I’d be forced to carry an oops
are we going to back in time
or is this the new America?

apathetic voter

full of apathy-i no longer have the faith and hope in government I once had
i’m starting to think that renouncing my homeland was a waste to become an American
thinking my vote counted for something, that it meant something
aside from the ease of traveling
my situation is still the same
a working class reality where I’m still struggling
a high functioning mental case doing her best to survive
in a country that thrives on capitalism

polls

must I go to the polls and vote?
everyone tells me I must
to maintain my rights and for my future
but lately I feel apathetic about it all-
feeling I’ve never made a difference
feeling like it’s so much bullshit
but since I’ve heard Nazi sympathizers are in this race
and I’m an other
I”m forced to go to the stupid polls
for mine and my loved ones survival

these poems are from 2022 and I’m more disillusioned than ever with the government. I’ve always leaned towards being a liberal/democrat and while I’ll still go out there and vote for whatever is deemed the “lesser evil”, I absolutely hate that we don’t have a third option that’s way more humane. And for anyone who thinks, “well, you should go back to your country”, at this point, I am working on having that as an option in the near future. Going back to Peru last year and this year has given me a new perspective about everything my parents gave up to immigrate to this country and it’s overwhelming because it was a lot. While I understand their reasons and while Peru does not have the most stable government either, the quality of life there seems better in a lot of ways. Who knows what will happen next year with the elections but I’m making sure my kids have their passports and I keep my connections with family and friends in Peru.

Inner child

Me as a child 😔😌

What does it mean to be a kid at heart?

lean into your inner child, let your spirit once again
be filled with awe and wonder
forget society’s rules that tells you to act your age
to control yourself,
who determines these stupid conventions and norms
anyways
sing out loud at the table, dance in your office
tell a stranger you’re glad they exist,
run in a field of flowers and giggle
lean into your inner child, let your spirit once again
be filled with awe and wonder

cherry chapstick

Daily writing prompt
When was the first time you really felt like a grown up (if ever)?

With cherry chapstick, I felt like a woman
I felt like a sexy vixen from the telenovelas
even though I was only 9-
and while everyone around me still treated me
like a little girl-
after applying my cherry chapstick
something awakened inside of me
Was it the beginning of puberty?

10/2/22

Ivy

9/30/2023

Tell us about a time when you felt out of place.

the ceilings of America are laced with poison ivy
every time I act out of the norm or forget to code switch
people tell me I’m too dramatic -ouch-
accused of being toxic and crazy-damn
and a rash of doubt takes over my mind
I’ll never fit it, no one will ever love or accept me
and I turn down who I am
but even that doesn’t work
it makes things worse
and I explode and project-
fuck you, you’re blocked
then I discover therapy -slowly I heal
accept the pieces of myself that will never fit in
exhibit myself in my most authentic form
and slowly the poison ivy becomes an ivy of love and growth
and I understand that to be happy
I need let go of normalcy
and embrace my unconventional and eccentric self

Finding Community in Athens

worpress prompt: What do you love about where you live?

me at open mic a few weeks ago

when I finally took myself seriously as a poet and writer, I was 40
before that I thought I was some cute and crazy girl
who used poetry and stories to express herself on paper
whatever she couldn’t burden loved ones with
but now at 40, between the July heat and mental health diagnosis
I had a breakdown
and I used my creativity to get through it
so I started blogging and used my poetry as content
I had no idea anyone would like it, resonate with it
and subscribe to it
and after a year, I went back to open mic
and keep going and bared my most vulnerable
and intimate thoughts
this lead to me finding community with the local
poets of Athens
and it’s what I had always wanted but was always
too scared, too insecure to seek out
and also too busy with everything else in my life
but one day I got tired finally embraced the fire
of my creativity
and decided to share the artist in me with the world
once I did that, I created an online community
and eventually found a community of writers and poets
who accept me, encourage me, and inspire me

Obsession

Daily writing prompt
What are you passionate about?

My yen to better myself is has become an obsession
causing me constant frustration
being so self aware of my unhealthy patterns
leads me to self flagellation
Oh another poem about how I’m so toxic
or I’m a perpetual love addict
or I do everything wrong when it comes to love
When will I reach a point of enough
Enough with pointing out my faults
Enough of feeling my self imposed emotional claws
Enough of acting like I’m a monster
and how I’m consumed by anger
I know that healing means being self aware
but there’s gotta be something on the other side
of this constant despair

oxapampa

wordpress prompt:If you won two free plane tickets, where would you go?

maybe I’ll take him, Idk

I want someone to take to oxapampa
so I can show him where part of my story started
so he can watch the sun rise and the sun set
on my family’s farmland
so I can experience joy through his eyes
for the first time as he observes the beauty
of the land
So I can watch his face when he takes a sip
for the first time of the world class beer 7 vidas
so we can take tourist pics at the plaza
and the church were my dad was baptized in
dance the night and awkwardly laugh
at the cultural appropriation of the Cheyenne Club
so right after we end up at the Hakuna Matata karaoke bar
when I sing “Lover” to him off key
as he sits in his chair and cringes in embarrassment
and tells me I’m crazy and everyone stares at us
so we could have breakfast with my tia
with the eggs, chorizo, coffee, and milk coming
from the family farm as we all awkwardly make small talk
about our plans for the day
I want someone to take to oxapampa to hug trees,
go on hikes in the jungle, and make love in some little cabin
but I’ll have to wait and wait until the universe
sends someone worthy of going the magical land
of oxapampa

written in September of 2023

Staying Grounded

dissociating hard
Daily writing prompt
Why do you blog?

I wrote this in September of 2023.

When I saw this prompt from wordpress, I was going to write maybe a poem about how blogging has become an outlet for my storytelling and healing but the day had other plans for me. Today, I woke up exhausted as hell because I haven’t had a day off in three weeks and my emotional bandwidth is extended to the point it’s about to break or snap with my upcoming divorce hearing and every fucking feeling is just coming up. Still, I decided to go to work this morning even though I didn’t want to. I was trying to fake being okay but I just couldn’t. I felt this ball of rage inside of me seethe and persist and I started crying. I went to the bathroom and tried to compose myself and called a friend and she calmed me down to the point I didn’t feel like rage quitting my job anymore. And I got back to work, tried to mask and then the rubberband of my emotional bandwidth broke and I started dissociating. It felt like what I was doing and living wasn’t real. I told my boss and I left work early. As soon as I got into my car and started it, I felt this wave of relief. As soon as I got home, I called my friend who was incredibly supportive and felt better. It’s really hard to write to this blogpost and be so candid and vulnerable in trying to explain the challenges I face with BPD. Throughout the past two years, I’ve been able to convey how living with mental illness is like through poetry, essays, etc. It’s not easy but something in me thinks it’s important to share my story. With therapy and hard work, I’m able to manage my symptoms 80 to 90 percent of the time but today was one of those days when this episode of dissociation came up and it was scary as hell. The best way to describe it is this “inside me” watching me go through the motions of life faking it while “inside me” is in flight or fight mode. Normally, I just fight it until I feel grounded again with one of my coping mechanisms. That could be writing in my journal, calling a friend, exercising, or any one of my DBT skills. This time, my dissociation felt out of control and impossible to manage because I started to question whether or not what I was living was real or not. It was me asking myself, “is this reality or a dream?” . I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you I didn’t saw this episode coming. My mood swings have been between extreme highs and extreme lows. I describe it as between a euphoric “Pollyanna” I have the best life viewpoint on one day to “Debbie Downer” Everything sucks, I just need to get through the day viewpoint the next day.

Hunger

Dm me for the price 🤣🤣🤣

Are you seeking security or adventure?

lately I take the biggest bites out of life and flaunt it
in front of everyone
for too long I suppress my hunger for experience,
For adventure
thought I was crazy for trying to explore my curious nature
So instead I took small bites here and there
thinking it would be enough
but it wasn’t who I was
a little bird taking nips
naw I’m a condor reading to pounce and satiate my hunger
my big ass appetite
ready to be satisfied
with the unpleasant  and pleasurable things in life

Ceviche

3 types of Ceviche🇵🇪😍

What’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten?



Ceviche, ceviche, ceviche
you are a national treasure to me
your origin is mysterious
your taste is juicy and tasty
ceviche, ceviche, ceviche,
you are an explosion of ecstacy
because you feel like you’re
making love to my mouth
with every bite I melt inside



4/6/2022

No

If you were forced to wear one outfit over and over again, what would it be?

This is the most terrible prompt on WordPress to be honest. Perhaps this is coming from a place of vanity since the only thing that made me seriously consider the convent was the thought of wearing the same outfit the rest of my life. In fact, here’s a poem I wrote about it.

‘My vice

On a sunny day, I was angry and running
and said, “who the fuck needs men”
and I thought about joining the convent
I could definitely take a vow of celibacy
but then I remember their vow of poverty
And I can’t become a poor person again
Sure God will understand I’m made for starbucks
And pretty dresses from amazon
And to take a vow of modesty would  feel like an atrocity
a crime against my humanity
I could never tone down my beauty
I look too good in a bikini
so for now I’ll have to settle for a secular life
because being a spoiled and pretty girl is my vice

I couldn’t even wear this banging outfit the rest of my life.

Anyways, WordPress needs to do better with their prompts. 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Two teachers who saved me

What makes a teacher great?

As I’m thinking about this answer, two teachers come to mind. One is my 11th Grade English Mrs.Idica and the other is my college professor of creative writing, Dr.Blais.

Who knows what would have happened to these two if it wasn’t for Mrs.Idica 😭😭😭

I took Mrs.Idica’s Asian American Lit and Creative Writing class my junior year of high school. I did really well in my creative writing class but almost flunked the Asian American lit class. I remember not liking her too much at first because she pushed us to do our best and was strict. I think I did well in the creative writing class because I really loved writing poems and little short stories.  At the time, I didn’t think it was something I’d ever be passionate about but of course the class did have a great impact on me, here’s a poem I wrote in that class:

Poetry: That Night

Mrs.Idica ended up being my homebound teacher when I was on maternity leave with my first son at the beginning of my senior year.  That meant that for 6 weeks, she came to my house to give me my school assignments and helped me with them if I needed help. She would stay and talk to me and always encouraged me to drop out of high school and to continue on. This was important for me to hear as there was pressure from people in my family to drop out and work.  She could have easily just dropped off my work and not have these conversations with me but instead she showed up with the compassion and grace I needed during a really dark time in my life. She also had the patience of the saint as I trudge through my school assignments since I was an terrible student. She never gave up on me or told me my life was ruined because I had a child at such a young age. In fact, she was one of the few people who didn’t shame me and reminded me my child was a gift. The encouragement from her and her belief in me really made a difference in my life. I don’t believe I would have put so much effort that last year in high school and graduated on time. I think what made her not just a great but exceptional teacher was that she was caring, had the patience of a saint, and was this light of compassion and encouragement for me when I needed it. This is a poem I wrote about her:

poetry: saint tracey

I also want to say that I’m still in touch with her through social media where I share updates about my life and my writing. Even now, she tells me she’s proud of me and that means a lot to me.

Right after taking Dr.Blais class

Another teacher in my life who was exceptional was my creative writing professor Dr. Blais. Like Mrs.Idica, she pushed us to do our best in the class and provided a safe space for us to express ourselves creatively.I also learned to be super disciplined with my writing in her class and the editing process. She was very patient with us and in her class I wrote 3 plays and both of them won 2nd and 3rd place in the college writing competition which meant a lot to me since it was the first time I was writing plays. She also encouraged me to continue writing and even invited me to one of her playwright workshop groups but I couldn’t go due to family obligations. Also, her class was my favorite escape from my busy mom life that included 2 small kids and 3 part time jobs at the time. It was a crazy time in my life where my mental health was a bit touch and go but going to Dr.Blais class helped me cope. Like, Mrs.Idica,  Dr.Blais saw potential in me and encouraged me and was incredibly patient in kneading the writer out of me. I think taking her class validated my passion for writing. Especially when the last assignment was making a book which I titled “My Quarter Life Crises” . I felt accomplished in making that little book of my poems and plays. Here’s a link to one of the plays I wrote in her class:

Play: Choices

Unfortunately, I lost touch with my Dr.Blais after college and can’t seem to find her anywhere.  Last I heard is that she’s had success as a playwright in New York.

I think I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have had two educators show up in my life who made a positive impact on effect. It doesn’t always happen that way (thinking about my super condescending English professor at UGA- but that’s another blog post) . It’s hard to imagine who I would have become without both of them.

Me at another poetry event

crashing out

WordPress Prompt: What are you most worried about for the future?

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Things I’m currently crashing out about:

Finances-I’m in a financial hole due to loss income and medical debt. I’ve been in denial for such a long time about it but today I didn’t even have enough to cover my rent so I had to ask my other roommates for their share and one of them will move out soon. It’s been keeping up at night but I know I’ll dig myself out as I have done before. It just fucking sucks for now and makes me feel like a complete and utter failure. But there’s no time for me to lament and whine, I need to take action now and I’m doing it. I have to have blind faith that I’ll be fine and there is a light at the end of these really dark economic times.

CPTSD symptoms: Triggered cause of the heat, the stress and this time of the year. I’m managing not to have a total and complete emotional relapse by exercising, drinking my water and minding my business, watching movies with really pretty people in them, and acknowledging what’s happening by talking to close friends and writing. I honestly feel like if someone came up to me and gave me $10000, my CPTSD would completely disappear but that’s not real life. I’m trying to do better because last week I was a complete bitch to one of my friends and she didn’t deserve it. I apologized and owned up to it but damn I still feel bad about it.

And of course, existing while Latina in this country. With all the shit that’s happening I worry about my family members and myself. I try to take it day by day but the anxiety gets at 100 when I see a new headline pop up especially the latest one about stripping citizenship from U.S citizens. I have to laugh because one) I’m too medicated to cry and two) it’s really not worth getting so upset about something out of my control.

I haven’t done a WordPress Prompt in a minute and this one just gnawed and gnawed at me and I was like, hell, maybe I’ll feel better screaming into the void especially now that my nature spot is ruined. R.I.P my special creek. I hope that the next time I answer a WordPress prompt, it’s something where I answer the question and I’m a lot happier. I hope that in three months, I’ll look back on this post and I can see that I’ve made a lot of progress and I feel more balanced and hopeful and I can say, well, I made it and I’m more than okay. IF not, at least I will have written a lot more poems and stories.

current vibe

Privilege and luxury

Very Proud Daughter of Immigrants

What’s the one luxury you can’t live without?

Privilege and Luxury


Luxury looks like the chauffeur
who drives me and my sister
to ballet classes
and my brother to karate

Privilege tastes like eating garlic cloves
in bed with my bunny
who wears a knitted hat
made by my Mami

Luxury smells like el amuerzo
of rice and over easy eggs
the maid serves us

Privilege sounds like a bomb
going off near our house
one of its residents
loses his hearing because of it

Luxury feels like my mami understanding
terrorism is at her front door
and applying for U.S sponsorship
through a relative

Privilege is having parents
who crossed the border
for us and with us
out of love and for our safety