Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: you’re so sensitive

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

poor kid-she deserved better

I grew up too quickly in some areas and remained a child in others –
it’s a truth that I hate to admit
it wasn’t my parents’ fault
they did the best with what they had –
an extra sensitive child with medical issues
it was too much for them to handle
when they were trying their best to keep their own heads above water
there was no extra time for the extra needs and demands I had
and while middle age holds space to have compassion for them
I still need to reparent my inner child
who comes out in the most inoportune of time
and has caused terrible havoc and harmed others
but it’s not her fault or mine
It happens sometimes, and now I’m taking the time
to nurture her so she can finally grow up

Posted on by pattytacuri

Sharing my story

Me at open mic last month

What’s the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make? Why?

I’ve taken off my mask and stop repressing my true self-
And while it’s terrifying at times, I show the world my authenticity
and vulnerability
I share the parts of my story that are terrible, happy, sad, lovely, crazy, beautiful, and tragic
so others don’t feel alone and find solidarity
in my chaotic and bicultural story of love, rage, defeat, hate, and resilience
And bring to light my rich and vivid experience of the duality of being a rooted and rootless,
Peruvian and American, a hateful and kind woman living her life fearlessly and shamelessly

4/24/23

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: my season of healing

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

this is how healing looks like-me and my notebook against the world

healing is chaos and calm intertwined with diving timing
because after almost falling of the cliff of insanity
and wanting to end it all
a light flickered inside of me to push through-
that light was sometimes my anger, therapy, poetry
or my friends encouraging me to to move forward
to continue on my path of self discovery
and a year later-
I no longer care about why someone’s love wavered
or why someone treated me like shit
all i care about is vibrating to the version
of my highest and healthiest self
I care about intentionally setting fire to the path
of personal and professional success

Posted on by pattytacuri

Spotify wrapped 2023 reveals I’m now an “angsty romantic and no longer an emo/angry slash your tires bitch. Yay for growth. 🫶🫶🫶🥹🥹🥹 It’s still cringe, but it’s now hopeful cringe. 🤣🤣🤣

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Spotify wrapped 2023 reveals I’m now an “angsty romantic and no longer an emo/angry slash your tires bitch. Yay for growth. 🫶🫶🫶🥹🥹🥹 It’s still cringe, but it’s now hopeful cringe. 🤣🤣🤣
Posted on by pattytacuri

poesía: renuncio

here’s the english version of this poem:

Poetry: Resignation

por fin me doy a mi lado aunque pierda mi seguridad económica
me harté de tanta hipocresía, me harté de ser maltratada por mi raza
cuarenta horas a la semana-
me harté de ser el chiste de la oficina y hoy renuncio-
mi estabilidad emocional vale más que un trabajo lleno de pendejas racistas
que nunca me aceptaron y mi trataron como la peor cosa
valgo mas que un trabajo que solo brinda ansiedad
y un dolor en mi corazón con sus cuchillo de racismo y sexismo
me amo demasiado para seguir en un ambiente tóxico
que me mata dia por dia

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

poetry: chalk line

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

always a Reina

I used to be an expert at throwing my own pity parties
I drew a chalk line of the outline of my body
and called myself the victim of my life
It was before self-awareness kicked in,
it was before radical honesty
it was comforting to drown in my misery
but now, if I feel myself treading in a sea of self-pity
I look back on all of the progress I’ve made
and all of the healing I’ve done
and am reassured I’m not a victim anymore
I never really was
I was always a diamond buried under a mountain
of mental illness-and now I shine
with the queen energy that took me a long time
to uncover

Posted on by pattytacuri

poesía: puerta cerrada

here’s the english version of this poem:

Poetry: Poor and Destitute

apareció en mi puerta con una mirada vacía
pidiéndome un poco de dinero para su adición
pero me acordé de su nuestro pasado tumultuoso
y le digo no
ella me trata de chantajear con nuestro enlace de sangre
pero no me dejo manipular
hoy elijo mi tranquilidad, mi paz, y mi salvación
hoy cierro la puerto
a anos y anos de trastornos que ella causó,
que ella me hizo sufrir por su egoísmo
hoy empieza una nueva etapa en mi vida
donde por primera vez siento la ruptura de la cadenas
de codependencia de mi familia