Poetry: Don’t

I wrote this poem 2002 and it was yet another poem inspired by the bio dad of my oldest child. For many years. I had so much unresolved rage and anger about how he abandoned my son and used poetry as a way to process it.

Don’t even try to understand me

You don’t even know me

I was born with your DNA

But to you, I have nothing to say

I once was a babe, a boy

And now a man

Don’t pretend to give a damn

I’ve done grown up to become

A man unlike you that doesn’t run

No thanks to you β€œDad” 

You left when I was a mere ladΒ 

So please go on on your way

I can’t stand the sight of you

Another day

Poetry: In the ICU

I wrote this poem in 2018 when my grandmother passed away. She was in the ICU for about a week before she passed and it was tough on the family.

Me with my Grandmother in 2015 or 2016

She lies between this world and the next

She can’t decide between her husband 

 Or her kids 

She is tired, she is drained, she is 94

She lies between this world and the next

She needs to let her body decide a final rest

But her spirit wants to stay 

withinIn the cocoon of her family

She lies between this world and the next

She slowly feels her ancient and battered body 

Give up…. 

It is tired of the endless pain

And her spirit

slowly agrees

And 

Lets her leave in peace to the heaven that is him

Poetry: Another Pathetic Guy

I wrote this funny poem after a really bad date in 2001. I was obviously very salty at the time.

I write the same pathetic poem

  about another pathetic guy

From the first conversation 

  you didn’t seem to have an ounce of promise

  With your arrogant way of talking

but I decided to give you a chance anyways

But little would I know

  how you would try to make me feel

 Like some ignorant ho

Little would I know

I would enjoy your landlord’s company

  more than your own

Never had I seen 

  how arrogant somebody could be

Never had I felt 

  such repulse towards a male

Never will I see

  a future between you and me

Poesia: Te Amo

EscribΓ­ este poema despuΓ©s de que tuve una disoluciΓ³n desastrosa en el 2001. Soy bien dramΓ‘tica cuando una relaciΓ³n amorosa acaba.

Te Amo

Pero te odio

Te extraΓ±o

Pero me olvido

Te deseo

Pero tu amor es feo

Te quisiera tener aquΓ­

Pero tu me haces sufrir

Te quisiera besar

Pero me mandas al fondo del mar

Te quiero conmigo

Pero tu eres frΓ­o 

Te guardo en mi corazΓ³n

Pero contigo pierdo la razΓ³n

Poetry: The Jungle Part 2

I wrote this about the PULSE club shooting in 2016.

Everyone claims thoughts and prayers

For those they sprouted 

Hatred against (just a few days ago)

Only because of their untimely 

Deaths.

If they had gone 

On living -they would 

Have continued to be 

Hated by most–

Now they are loved 

And remembered and

Prayed for in the their death 

Because they are dead.

It’s too late for you

Prayers warriors, you

Religious zealots and

bigots , your prayers 

And love falls on 

Angry ears, ears of 

The victims families , ears 

Of their loved ones, ears

Of the LATINX,Puerto Rican, 

LGBTQ Community

People who weren’t  

Given two fucks about 

Or treated with hatred 

Because your Bible told 

You so. 

Story: The Ocean

List of pros I made when Mr.Toxic ghosted me in late 2019

I wrote this in the summer of 2019 when Mr.Toxic had once again ghosted me. I think so much of me was obsessed with him because of the chaos he brought into my life. Also, even though I hate to admit it, he brought so much inspiration to my life that I ended up writing over 50 pages of poetry/ mini stories about him. He was my muse for a while and I think I became addicted to him.

There once was a girl and she fell in love with the ocean. The ocean engulfed her with its salt smell, and the warmth of the water on late nights. The girl swam and swam, deeper and deeper into the ocean-loving it more each day. One day the ocean got tired of the girl and decided to make the biggest wave to throw her back to the land. When the girl woke on land, she was disoriented, confused, lost and hurt. She wondered if her late night swims had been a beautiful and hopeless dream. So a few weeks went by and the girl returned to her normal reality of her every day . She went through her normal routine even though her heart hurt-she slowly recovered from the crash of the ocean and just as she was almost to her normal self. The ocean decided to call her back again. At first, she couldn’t believe it-she thought her ears were deceiving her-but it was clear that the ocean wanted her to swim in it again-for whatever reason. The girl felt special and lucky and even though she was hesitant -she swam again in the ocean. This time -it was deeper and more intense. She felt at one with the ocean. She felt honored to learn all of its secrets and was completely enthralled by it. She was finally beginning to feel safe and so vulnerable she started to float and let the ocean carry her. All of a sudden the ocean got tired and threw her again-this time the crash was way more devastating . It felt like she couldn’t breathe at times. She knew that she should deal better since this had happened once before but this time she cried more than ever. She felt worthless and used in every sense of the word. She wondered what sin she had committed that the universe had handed her such unimaginable and tremendous pain. It was hard this time to get back to normalcy. It was hard for her to go about her day and not burst into tears because her poor heart would spasm when something brought back the memory of the ocean. And then the process repeated itself a few more times. It was more exhausting and devastating each time. It’s like she couldn’t learn and see how damaging the ocean was to her soul. Finally there was a time where it was so brutal the girl finally learned to tune out the ocean’s song and she never swam again.Β 

Eliza Conquers Writer’s Block: Poetry Edition

Emotional Nonsense

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
That 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