their used knicknacks, their used clothes their used whatever is taking up too much space in their closet or garage all of this is given to their browner and poorer counterparts act like ever act of charity will bring them one step closer to heaven when at times their recipients feel like it’s a act of condescension, arrogance a way to remind them where they belong a way to remind them of their working class status the haves need the have nots to have someone to feel superior to while the have nots cannot escape the cycle of poverty due to the greed of the haves
lately I take the biggest bites out of life and flaunt it in front of everyone for too long I suppressed my hunger for experience, for adventure thought I was crazy for trying to explore my curious nature So instead I took small bites here and there thinking it be enough but it wasn’t who I was a little bird taking nips naw I’m a condor reading to pounce and satiate my hunger my big ass appetite ready to be satisfied with the unpleasant and pleasurable things in life
Triggered trauma brings in a spiral of toxic guilt and shame even if logically I know it’s not my fault and I was just standing up for myself I’m still recovering from being a nice girl I’m still recovering from saying please and thank you when toxicity was served on a platter of love I’m still recovering from compromising my values and my true self for the comfort of others so they’d stay I’m still recovering from the most toxic story I ever told myself when it came to measuring my worth by how others judged and perceived me
love ties me up and binds with a rope of shame slowly I fade away until I’m nothing I don’t recognize who I am Friends tell me I’ve changed I tell them they’re crazy messages appear in dreams I’m living a fake life who am i? who am i? who am i?
Universe, send me a silver lining send me a sign, send me a message things will be alright lately everything feels so awry lately May feels like the longest month of my life lately everything feels like chaos and darkness I can’t seem to get rid off And lately I’m afraid I’m about to lose my mind
honest nonsense is spilled across my blog honoring who I have been, am, and will be a former chaotic mess who’s tried her best to turn her victim story into a narrative of empowerment owning everything that’s happened to me, not caring what anyone else thinks- if some people are offended, they should have acted better
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
life is smiling on me once again after a rough start to the new year- I find myself almost open to new love and everything’s inspiring me and my King Joe is back on the screen and now I got more money on the horizon I’m feeling this state of euphoria by celebrating each blessing and looking forward to new and exciting things new creative endeavors, another trip to my homeland and maybe even a new muse It’s February and I feel myself glowing and growing
don’t mess with a poet-you’ll become her muse whether you like it or not
I give you a yard and you give me an inch- it’s a game of back and forth nonsense one where I respect your unspoken boundaries and need for space until one day the push back from you pulled back into a dark place I haven’t been in a while a place where my confidence breaks, a place where I start to question my worth a place when my sense of self breaks once again and I know right there and then, it’s better to give up whatever this was I’ve outgrown men who send me mixed signals
in my literary war chest lies a lifetime of love failures, insecurities about motherhood and confusion about my identity in my literary war chest lies unfiltered thoughts about grief for everything I never was and potential unfulfilled in my literary war chest lies the answers to how I survived Catastrophe after catastrophe- In my literary war chest lies proof of my strength and resilience in the worst of times
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
me and the evil Christmas Tree invading my writing space
As I sit here squished in my writing space because the damn Christmas tree is taking up the other side of the room, I still feel incredibly blessed and fortunate that I’m writing this post about how the 11th year of blogging was. To still be here telling my story though this platform with the most incredible followers is a true blessing. To the many people who have been supportive of me as I vomit out some of the cringiest and craziest shit, y’all are the real MVPs. I feel so encouraged and loved by every like or comment. I would say that it was a low key year because I didn’t experiment as much as I wanted to. What I did do is tell my story from January of 2022 through December of 2022 with my poetry along with my translated poems from my early writing days. I’ve translated a total of 215 pages of poetry from 1997 to 2004. It’s been a challenge for sure but it was important for me to take on this project because it allows me to reconnect with my first language in a creative way. Also, my main purpose for taking on this project is because I’d love for my parents and other Spanish speaking relatives in Peru to be able to read my poetry. I’d even started putting some of these poems on tik tok which has been somewhat of an interesting experiment considering I don’t know what I’m doing and still figuring out the best way to create content there. I guess one could say that I’m passionate about telling my story. Here’s my tiktok handle if y’all want to check it out: https://www.tiktok.com/@lagringachola81
Another new thing I did this year is start using my real name on this blog and across all of my social media. After my divorce, aka, my liberation day, I was finally able to let go of my pseudonym Eliza Dalton and use my real name Patty Tacuri. So, hi everyone, my name is Patty and I have issues. I love to use that opening line at open mic. Lol.
hi, it’s me Patty, your little piece of heaven or hell—lol
I’ve also been going to open mic at my local pub and it’s helped me connect with other poets which has helped me grow as a writer and poet. Being up there on that stage sharing the most vulnerable parts of myself has felt incredibly empowering and healing. I’m grateful to the Athens Word of Mouth community who’s been so open and receptive to whatever trauma laden or angry poem I decide to read that night.
me at open mic on December 6,2023 -photo from Athens Word of Mouth
As to what kind of blog content I have planned for 2024, I plan to leave the format as it is in telling my story of 2023 and including the translated pieces in between those poems. I hope that I can do more collaborations and review some more poetry books. I don’t have much more planned than that but who knows, sometimes my crazy mind comes up with the most off the wall ideas and an unexpected playlist or an essay about some kind of trauma happens. I know that in 2024, I want to be more open and vulnerable in telling my story and how my recovery journey has been going. We’ll see what happens. I can tell you that this blog is my happy place and something that keeps me going when my depression wants to get the better of me. Planning blog content this year has kept me grounded more times than I can count this year especially with some of the big emotions that have come up with the major life events I’ve had. It’s become part of my recovery process from mental illness and a safe space for me to be honest and vulnerable. Also, since I’m such a main character now, haha, I decided to give y’all a preview about what’s to come next year in telling my story. I’m calling it the twelve days of Patty starting on December 20th. Again, I want to thank everyone who takes the time to read my crazy and sometimes cringe poetry. To my fellow bloggers, poets,and storytellers-my message for you is to keep going! Your art and stories are important!
Life on the BPD 