Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: graduation

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

it’s time to reclaim the corny romantic in me

I’m graduating from writing about revenge and everyone who has harmed me
I’m switched this narrative from woman scorned and full of spite
To a woman reborned opened to love and joy in life
While it’s fun to be petty and mean
It’s better for me to reclaim the corny romantic in me
the one I’ve kept hidden for 18 months
the one who cries at the end of rom coms
the one who’s desperate to fall in love again
to continue this narrative about how I’m in love with my solitude
no longer suits me
when I have a universe of love to give

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poetry: am I even your type?

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

I’m ridiculous when I have a crush….

am I reading too much into the attention and energy you’re giving me
the casual messages, the comments on my posts
the nervous vibe and the hug you gave me the first time we met
It felt like chemistry
Am I even your type?
Or is this the beginning of beautiful friendship
One that will last, one that will be healthy
Without the complications and expectations
that lust or love brings

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poetry: an open letter to year 42

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

me on my birthday last year, this heroine spent her birthday working…

I’m at year 42 and I’m only getting started on my heroine’s journey
I’ve learned so much about myself and my toxic patterns in year 41
I understand now how my overreactions, my need to avoid conflict
my need to please were all trauma responses learned from childhood
where my emotions were never validated
I now hold a world of knowledge, confidence, and power within me
and on year 42, I ready to act like the badass Incan Queen
I make myself out to be
Except this year I’ll act out of love and compassion
and not out of revenge and spite
even when I’m pissed, angry at someone or at something
I need to dig in deep and feel that grief
instead of immediately throwing out accusations
and blaming everyone but me
Understand it’s me projecting my insecurities
This year I’ll continue my heroine’s journey in healing and recovery
but I’ll try to do it more with grace, with intent and compassion
for myself and others
I’ll cover myself in love from God, the universe, and my ancestors
with all of that love act out of a pure and intentional energy
that will continue to help grow and evolve

Posted on by pattytacuri · 6 Comments

poetry: emotional eater

I wrote this poem in February of 2020.

me in February of 2020.

Eating away my emotions with junk food and sugar
is healthier than meth and taking pills to sleep forever
Each bite I take and swallow keeps me alive
and further from a sweet death that tempts me
Food becomes the driving force behind my mediocre existence
until I can find a new obsession

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

my combat boots

October of 2021…a couple of months after I bought these boots
Daily writing prompt
Tell us about your favorite pair of shoes, and where they’ve taken you.
View all responses

my favorite pair of shoes are my black combat boots. I bought them sometime in the summer of 2021 during an impulsive shopping spree. They’re taken me to live shows and they are what I wear every time I go to perform at a new open mic. I also wore them with my Harley Quinn outfit for Halloween of 2021. They’re also one of my most comfortable pair of shoes and they go with a lot of my outfits. I’ve worn them with dresses, jeans, and shorts. It’s a weird thing to say but I feel like these boots help build up my confidence at a time when I was feeling shitty about myself and now they’ve become a very important part of my aesthetic. Every time I wear these boots with my dress beige dress to work, my coworkers know I’m moody AF and tread carefully. I’ve also worn them on my plane trip to Peru last year. So yeah, they’ve taken me to my homeland and back. It was a bitch to take them off for the TSA checkpoint but it was worth it so my fit was right.

2 years later in 2023 at Night of Spite open mic…
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poetry: comfortable

I wrote this poem in February of 2020.

me in February of 2020

Comfortable will keep you locked
in loveless marriage
Comfortable will keep you trapped
in an easy and boring job
Comfortable will keep you miserable
in a mediocre life
Comfortable will keep you settling
for less than you deserve
Comfortable will find you one day
And make you swallow a bottle of pills
so you can sleep away
your comfortable and mediocre existence

 

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: i’m finally ready

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

I got a blank space….and I’ll write your name

This time I feel like I’ve finally settled most of my soul’s score
by doing so much inner work
I still have toxic and angry moments but they no longer consume me
This year I’m manifesting a new kind of love energy
Someone who can match my wild and creative energy
Someone who values me as a whole person
and doesn’t just fall in lust with my body
Someone brave enough to love me and doesn’t scare easily
when I’m challenging and moody
this year I’m opening myself to love energy
who makes me laugh, who inspires me
I think I’m finally ready

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poetry: repurpose

I wrote this in February of 2019.

I bet Paul Steck had some demons

out of the most depressed minds comes the greatest creativity
I wonder why that is–
Is it because there are no limits in our imagination?
Is it because we live 100 lives in 1 lifetime?
Is it because we are easily inspired by devastation and loss?
It is because pain and sadness flows out of us
more easily than others and we have a necessity
to repurpose it as art?

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: I warn my sons about falling in love with poets and writers

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

and if they don’t heed my warning, I’ll be here for them and get revenge for them

I warn my sons about falling in love with poets and writers
I try to dissuade them from it
They’ll use any insensitive comment you ever made
into a salty verse dripped with not so subtle insults
They’ll use your most intimate moments as metaphors
for heaven or earthquakes
They’ll describe you as God or the Devil depending on how you left them
They’ll make you a villain in their stories or worst, the hero in them
And the worst part-
They’ll make you way bigger in their mind than you ever wanted to be
so , I plead with you, fall in love with a boring accountant or a teacher
or even a lawyer
You’ll avoid the stress of being someone’s inspiration, someone’s muse
and the chaos and drama that comes along with it

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

poetry: two miguels

I wrote this poem in February of 2021.

my grandfather and son got that Miguel rizz

One was born in the beginning of the 20th century
the other was born in the beginning of the 21st century
one was born out of unplanned wedlock
one was a planned product of his parent’s love
one was taught hatred for blacks and cholos
the other was taught blacks lives matter and equality for everyone
one had misogynistic tendencies thanks to his machismo culture
the other other is that gender roles and conventions are a joke
One went through the Spanish flu times
the other is going through Covid times
both shares similar genes generations apart
both share the same Spanish name
one could not been possible without the other

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

poetry: happy valentine’s day 2023

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

valentine’s day curse finally broke last year…

valentine’s day is around the corner
so we’re bombarded by teddy bears,balloons,
greetings with corny shit like
“for my wife, the love of my life”
and flowers, the fucking flowers
there are even journals for couples to fill out
in hope of getting closer-
I still can’t figure that one out
and stupid heart shaped everything,
from cookie cutters to pillows
and flowers, the fucking flowers
and most of us eat it all up thinking
if our partner doesn’t buy us anything
or doesn’t meet our romantic expectations
on the most materialistic of holidays,
then they must not really love us-
never occurring to us how this business of love
preys on us and our fear of being lonely
it capitalizes and profits from it
sending us messages that we need
to buy this or that (get the flowers,
the fucking flowers) to show our love
it’s a trap that followed us since our school days
maybe it’s time to riot and burn down anything
related to this dreadful holiday
especially the fucking flowers
or maybe I’m just a crazy and jaded bitch
alone on valentine’s day

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poetry: uninhibited storytelling

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

me manifesting that one day I’ll be holding a book with my stories

middle age me is not seeking revenge on all who caused me trauma
I’m simply trying to make sense of the fuckery that happened to me
I’m simply trying to address the unhealed trauma that still lies
within me and haunts me in my dreams
I’m trying to process and understand that I never deserved any of it
I’m trying to get rid of that shame and guilt I’ve carried from it
and while sometimes that looks vindictive
I’m sorry but the only way to my journey in healing work
is through uninhibited storytelling

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: one day

I wrote this in February of 2020.

me in February of 2020

One day you’ll be a bad dream I’ll wake up from
One day someone will come along and you’ll be a distant memory
of an intense and toxic past who took over my life for a while
One day I’ll be loved by someone the way you could never love me
One day I’ll look back on our time together and regret every moment wasted on you
One day you won’t haunt my soul and mind
One day you will no longer be my muse
One day is here, now and forever

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

poetry: it stops with me

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

one of my reasons for doing all of the inner work

If only I could bypass the trauma lived and experienced
my life would be a lot easier
Perhaps I’d be fulfilled and not on this neverending heroine journey
to acknowledge how trauma happened to me
to understand how it changed me
to tells the stories from it so I can begin to heal from it
to do all of the work so I don’t pass it on to my sons
and their children
because this legacy of intergenerational silence with violence
needs to stop with me
even if it’s sometimes a painful nightmare to deal with