For the English version of this poem, click on the link below.
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/11/20/betrayed/
Convertiste el amor bonito que teníamos
en una pesadilla de traiciones y mentiras
Estabas enamorado de ella
todo el tiempo que estuvimos juntos
y ahora me voy para siempre
porque merezco mejor
que gastar mi energía en un traidor
I wrote this is 2006 in for my creative writing class. I wrote thinking about my sexuality when I was a teenager. I was hypersexual from a young age.
She was an adult like sixteen years old
Hormones racing like the speed of light
These were bitter enemies of the cold
Powerful sensations she had to fight
Had the body of a mature woman
But the maturity of one she lacked
But still she chose a stranger man
He told her quickly “Lie on your back.”
She was swiftly incapacitated
Gone forever, her norms and behavior
As her callow body palpitated
With her lengthy new found pleasure
And this was the unforeseen joyous end
Of her already dying innocence
Thank you for the nights full of passion
Thank you for your mouth and hands
that make me lose control
that make me melt like an ice cube
in the sun
Thank you for coming into my life
Even if it’s for an instant
Thank you for being here
I wrote this poem in 2006 when I was in the midst of my quarter life crisis.
There was once a place
It was my happy place
But it forever disappeared
When puberty appeared
Now I live somewhere else
Where almost everything fails
Where there are no more giggles
And everyone is fickle
Where being sad
Is the fad
And no one cares
About anyone else
What I would give
To get away from this
And go back to
Where no one is rude
And everyone smiles
And no one is a liar
For the English version of this poem, click on the link below:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/11/04/poetry-first-date/
En nuestra primera cita
fuimos a las películas,
a comer, y caminamos bajo la luna
hablamos acerca de varias cosas
Mencionaste a alguien en Miami
pero sentimos una química intensa
fue algo irresistible
De alli nos besamos
A lo mejor eras algo prohibido para mi
pero prendiste un fuego dentro de mi
perdí mis valores y morales
y me somete al deseo inmenso
que sentia por ti
2000
I wrote this poem in 2006 in college. I’ve always been kind of introspective when it comes to the possibilities of life.
The full moon strikes full of unseen possibilities
Possibilities that dwindle as life goes
Through the process of aging or does it?
Perhaps we are the ones who put limits
To our potential to be anything or do anything
Perhaps it really is true that we are the writers of our own destiny
Doing a 31-day prompt poetry challenge. The prompt was “Where Flowers Bloom 💐
For the English version of this poem, click on the link below:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/10/30/poetry-passing-fad/
Escribí este poema en en 2000 cuando tuve un evento infortunado incident con un alguien que estaba saliendo.
Todavía me acuerdo de tus palabras hirientes
Después de acostarte conmigo
“mejor quedamos como amigos”
mi mundo se destruyó en minutos
casi me ahogo en un mar de mis lágrimas
nunca quisistes conocerme de verdad
la unico que querias era el ardor de mi cuerpo
y me quede con una tristeza profunda
que de nuevo era nada más que una novedad
I wrote this poem is creative writing class in 2006. It’s some kind of form poetry but can’t remember what it is.
Did I ask for your advice?
Father and mother
You are not that wise
So I told a few lies
I didn’t mean to hurt her
Did I ask for your advice?
I had to break mine and her ties
Any words, please don’t offer
You are not that wise
I’m a man of twenty-five
Don’t treat me like a youngster
Did I ask for your advice?
Please don’t give me those eyes
And pretend to be higher
You are not that wise
Stop it with your sighs,
My dear mother and father
Did I ask for your advice?
You are not that wise!
Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/10/17/poetry-i-still-love-you/
Escribí este poema en 1999 pensando en Andrew, un ex enamorado que tuve con cual me obsesione.
Todavía te amo
no se porque
tu fuiste el arco iris en mi vida
que nunca espere
me diste el regalo especial de tu amor
pero después ella llegó
y tu amor se esfumó
deje de ser tu querida
y ahora me siento como una inutil
porque aunque tú escogiste a esa
Hay algo que te tengo que confesar
todavía sueño con nosotros
y nuestro amor
I wrote this poem in 2006 for my creative writing class. Men in general inspired this poem. Lol.
Despicable is the emptiness of talk
It is that which makes me gawk
The realization of your words so thin
Give my heart a monumental sting
I should’ve put on my idiot proof smock
You should’ve stayed silent as a rock
Instead of whispering nothings to me on the dock
That’s when I should’ve stopped listening
Despicable is the emptiness of talk
Your mouth should’ve been padded with a lock
Then you wouldn’t have taken me on a walk
To your park full of crock
I got on your moronic swing
I shouldn’t have answered your knock
Despicable is the emptiness of talk
Here is a link to the English Version:
Poetry: Fun is Gone
Escribí este poema en 1998 pensando como mi vida iba a cambiar por mi embarazo precoz.
Terminaron las travesuras estúpidas
y la playa con mis amigas
y tener un montón de enamorados
Los próximos años estarán llenos
de pañales y baberos
y noches desveladas
Así será el desenlace
mi adolescencia
I wrote this poem in 2006 when my mother-in-law passed away. She was an incredibly kind and lovely person.
She flew one afternoon without warning
leaving us in a state of grief and mourning
Why did she have to fly?
Was it really her time?
And now everyone left behind
Has rivers running from their eyes
Why did she have to fly?
Was it really her time?
Regrets and remorse
Has become our two worlds
Why did she have to fly ?
Was it really her time?
No fancy words could ever express
How it feels to lose your best
Why did she have to fly?
Was it really her time?
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
Life on the BPD 