Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: hands

I wrote this poem in March of 2022.

facts

The hands of ego and pride kept them apart
They chose themselves instead of following their hearts
it was tragic to see how many lies they weaved
I don’t love her, I don’t love him
they held on tightly to their anger, went back to their safety nets
it was more comfortable to do so then to fall back into their chaos

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: comfortable

I wrote this poem in March of 2023.

so comfortable I take pics like these….it’s me and my thigh high boots against the world..lol

Finally comfortable in my skin
I’m no longer afraid to show off my majestic beauty
my curves comes one of the seven wonders of the world
and my face is a mosaic of my colonizer and indigenous ancestry
and now I grace the world with my beauty
posting endless selfies in various poses
some people may find it narcissistic
but if you possessed my goddess beauty
would you try to hide it?

Posted on by pattytacuri · 3 Comments

poetry: revenge

I wrote this poem in March of 2023.

me on the night that inspired this poem….

lately I try to be a bigger person but last night was different
running into you when I’m at my hottest,
when I embody the picture of an Incan goddess
felt like sweet revenge,
it felt like karma served to someone who made me feel small
it felt like the universe smiled on me showing me once again
how I am winning and that anyone who’s fucked with me
will get what’s coming for them
and while I did feel sad for you
because of everything you went through
I still felt like a queen, a goddess with confidence
oozing from me
compared to you who will never fit into the new me

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: when I tell you I’m poet

I wrote this poem in March of 2023.

bruh, I’m more than just a pretty face

When I tell you I’m a poet-
please take me seriously
don’t think I’m some cute girl
who writes a few verses in her room
about how your kiss is a new kind of heaven
Poetry for me has a much deeper meaning,
poetry is how I bleed out all of my emotions
I hold within

When I tell you I’m a poet-
please don’t laugh at me or mock me
don’t berate the simplicity of my words
I weave into verse
It’s how I make sense of my explosion of thoughts
It’s how I express what I can’t say out loud

When I tell you I’m a poet-
don’t try to cure me of my poetic nature
and prey on my insecurities and try to kill
my dreams of making my art seen
I know how the odds are stacked against
someone like me
I don’t do it to make it to the mainstream-
I do it so other women like me
can be seen, can be inspired to dream

And finally when I tell you I’m a poet-
Appreciate the artist in me,
make yourself a sanctuary to put my poetry in-
I’m not asking for endless compliments or an ego boost
I’m asking for a safe space in you to love
the poet I hold within