Posted on by pattytacuri · 4 Comments

poetry: moon goddess

I wrote this poem in September of 2022.

always thankful for Mama Killa

The moon guards and protects me as I lose my sanity
as I drink too much
as I search for someone’s touch
the moon sends the Goddess
with a message of awareness
and I wake up from my trance of self destruction
and start an inner healing revolution
my purpose was never to be diminished and objectified
it was my judgment gone awry
and I try respect and worth on for size
my beauty is not all there is to me
I’m a mosaic of intelligence, love, and creativity
never a barbie to be treated as a reward or trophy

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: outgrown

I wrote this poem in September of 2022.

Lately I feel too big for my current pot
I need somewhere else to bloom
this is too comfortable
too stagnated
it’s almost suffocating
I need another place
full of challenges
and opportunities
I need a place where
I can full fill the extent
of my potential

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: back to business as usual

I wrote this poem in September of 2024.

scene from beauty and beast

soon we’ll be back to business as usual
obsessing over taylor and travis
clicking on clickbait about ben and jen
finding another celebrity to cancel
over some politically incorrect crime
of their past
soon we’ll go back to business to usual
as mothers still mourn their children
over another violent tragery
that never should have happened
soon we’ll go back to business as usual
as my son and his friends are hypervigilant
over anything suspicious
at 13, this world has taken away their innocence
soon we’ll go back to business as usual
as we go back to our stupid jobs
whether that’s a 9 to 5 office setting
or back breaking labor
as if evil didn’t happen at our community’s door
soon we’ll go back to business as usual
and I’ll write another poem about unrequited love
or the ex I dreamt about last night
soon we’ll go back to business as usual
except this time I’ll carry a when and where
in back of my mind
waiting for it to happen again

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry-guardian angel 1997

I wrote this poem in September of 2022.

me in 1997

my guardian angel sighs in exasperation and frustration
she’s tired of my self destructive behavior
she’s tired of being hyper vigilant
as I tear my life into shambles
and now she sees it’s too late
there was nothing she could’ve done
to stop me from giving into attraction and chemistry
and she wonders how this story will turn out

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: happily divorced after

I wrote this poem in September of 2024.

me and my son on my divorce anniversary

I never did get my happily ever after
but I did get my happily divorced after
and a year after it was all done
and signed by the judge
I feel gratitude for solitude
and breathe a sigh of relief
that I won’t settle ever again
for fear of being lonely
never again will I ever allow
Societal pressure to write my life’s
Narrative
and never again will I stay somewhere
Past the expiration date
because of fear or for the sake of appearances
I never did get my happily ever
but I did get my happily divorced after
and life feels joyous and glorious
and I am the most empowered version
of myself

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: brush your teeth

I wrote this poem in September of 2024.

I tell my son I’m proud of you
and he’s like why, because I’m alive
I nervously laugh even though
my heart aches over what he said
Why does America like to play
Russian roulette with its children
Why can’t I have a normal conversation with
my kid over too much screen time
and reminding him to brush his teeth
instead of conversation over what
he should do in a mass shooting

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: under

I wrote this poem in September of 2022.

me with one of my voices of reason

I feel left out by my friends and I cry and whine
“they hate me, I’m not good enough for them”
my voice of reason tells me
“it will be okay, you don’t need them”
it’s my sister

I break down in the middle of the sidewalk
and cry and scream
“I’m unworthy of love, I’ll be alone forever”
my voice of reason tells,
“that’s not true, you just need to focus on you boo”
It’s my son

my voice of reason has comforted me and loved me unconditionally
my voice of reason keeps me from going under

Posted on by pattytacuri

poesía: esta vez

escribí este poema en septiembre del 2024.

esta vez las balas llegan casi a la puerta de nuestra casa
y toca partes de nuestra comunidad
esta vez las palabras de furia y duelo salen de mi
como un río que no para
esta vez veo a los niños de catorce año que murieron
por culpa de este violento e horrifico acto
causado por otro niño de su edad
porque pienso en el mio con casi de la misma edad
y me pregunto hasta cuando tendré miedo y ansiedad
cada vez que mi hijo sale de la casa para ir a la escuela
esta vez no desperdiciamos ningun solo dia
para decirles a mis hijos que los amo, los quiero
y que todo lo que yo hago es por ellos
que son mi mundo

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: modesty

I wrote this poem in September of 2022.

me in September of 2022 before boarding a plane to Lima

my mother tells me to dress modestly
no loud lipstick, short skirts,tight or revealing clothing
I represent my family and currency in my country
is prestige and social status-
so I need to dress like the hija del ingeniero-
it’s the remnants my parents hold on to from their former lives
so I’ll put on my mask of señora de la sociedad
pretend I care about trivial things
mask my true identity of being a socialist, a feminist, and a crazy bitch
It’s the least I can do for the people who sacrificed themselves
for a better life for me

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: epidemic

I wrote this poem in September of 2024.

me right after I wrote this poem

this time it hits too close to home
this time it feels like a matter of when
in America my children learn run, duck, and cover
before learning to spell the word “Gun”
but this is the deck of cards dealt to all of parents
living in America
safety in schools is an illusion long gone
since the days of Columbine
but with each massacre we all break a little more
and our anxiety skyrockets even more
the closer this epidemic gets to us
this time I’ll hug my teenager as tightly as possible
when he gets home, even as he rolls his eyes at me
and says, “ew”this time I allow my fury and rage
at this continued senseless violence to pour out of me
and on paper
collective and personal grief covers me
accepting once again, no matter what I do
or how hard I try or how much I love my child
I can’t shelter him, I can’t protect him
from the epidemic of violence in this country

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Prodigal Daughter

I wrote this poem in September of 2022.

this prodigal daughter got accidental bangs in Lima

the prodigal daughter returns to a homeland that she barely remembers
it’s been 32 years since she stepped foot on Peruvian soil
and this feeling is unworldly-indescribable-unimaginable
she was a child when she left
never quite understanding the whys or hows of her family’s immigration journey
in her adopted homeland, she suffered through hardships and failures
but the ancestors always protected her
from drowning in the immense waves of chaos and disasters, she ended up being tossed in
and she’ll go to their graves and pay reverence to them for shielding her from danger
the prodigal daughter returns, and she feels nostalgia rushing into her body and mind
she is finally where she belongs

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: summer storms

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

always a triunfadora

the storms this summer have been intense and scary
Some days I had to run for cover, other days I ended up
saturated in self hate
the storms this summer tried desperately to tear me apart
ruin my reputation
everyone watched me waiting for me to turn into
a trainwreck
but instead I do what I always do
rise out of the ashes most triumphantly

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: faro

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

scene from Autumn Sonata

In Faro, magic took place
In Faro, Liv lost her mind
trying to conform
to Ingmar’s vision
of serenity and love

In Faro, Liv and Ingmar’s
story of love started with
silences, longing glances
and art made on the beach
with Godly cinematography

In Faro, Liv felt constricted,
restrained and isolated
and had Ingmar’s love child

In Faro, Liv tried for a year
to salvage a relationship
that was far beyond repairable

and in Faro, Liv put up
her white flag and decided
she couldn’t waste any more
of her life on something
that was never going to work

so she took her daughter
and left
the man, the life she thought
was going to be her forever

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: pieces

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

given the role of cycle breaker

pieces of my abuela bleed into my mami which bleeds into me
and I’m the vessel of the generational trauma inherited
and given the role of cycle breaker
I go against societal norms and conventions
and I’m always the odd one out
always the one who never belongs, who never fits in
until I find sanctuary in poetry, friendships,
and my own creative community
and while the trauma inherited still lives in me
I find a purpose for it as i share abuela’s, mami’s, and my stories
through poetry and slowly those generational wounds
start to heal and turn into scars