Posted on by pattytacuri

oxapampa

wordpress prompt:If you won two free plane tickets, where would you go?

maybe I’ll take him, Idk

I want someone to take to oxapampa
so I can show him where part of my story started
so he can watch the sun rise and the sun set
on my family’s farmland
so I can experience joy through his eyes
for the first time as he observes the beauty
of the land
So I can watch his face when he takes a sip
for the first time of the world class beer 7 vidas
so we can take tourist pics at the plaza
and the church were my dad was baptized in
dance the night and awkwardly laugh
at the cultural appropriation of the Cheyenne Club
so right after we end up at the Hakuna Matata karaoke bar
when I sing “Lover” to him off key
as he sits in his chair and cringes in embarrassment
and tells me I’m crazy and everyone stares at us
so we could have breakfast with my tia
with the eggs, chorizo, coffee, and milk coming
from the family farm as we all awkwardly make small talk
about our plans for the day
I want someone to take to oxapampa to hug trees,
go on hikes in the jungle, and make love in some little cabin
but I’ll have to wait and wait until the universe
sends someone worthy of going the magical land
of oxapampa

written in September of 2023

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: blog

I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

cute girl with a sick mind-Camila Cabello

maybe I restarted the blog for a younger version of us out there
in another state, another country who needs a roadmap,
Understanding, knowledge, and wisdom
in navigating a hard situation they never thought
they had to face
maybe I restarted the blog out of hope that some couple
out there who’s struggling can find something useful
in my story, in my prose, and my poetry
to get through their own hardship through the worst of it
and make it to the other side, evolve and grow together
in intimacy and find their own happy ending

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Precious Commodity

so beautiful

my energy is a precious commodity
i don’t give it to anybody
my time and effort now has to be earned
because of so many false starts and lessons learned
I’d rather embrace my solitude than once again
Become Joe from “YOU”
because I’m much to beautiful
to fall for another insensitive fool

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poesía: pizarnik

escribí este poema en Julio del 2024.

mi poeta favorita

viniste a mi vida para enseñarme que lo soy y lo que siento
no es una aberración, una abominación de la humanidad
me das paz y me llenas de consuelo al saber
que en alguna vez un la historia de la humanidad
existió otra alma como yo
rota, harta,y haciendo arte de la monstruosidad
y la grosería que es la vida

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: intruder

the intruder within me won’t quit
she remembers every wrong done to her
and every mistake she’s made
and starts the game of how much self loathing
i can take
And I used to try to quell her with affirmations
but lately I tell her-tell me more-
And I listen and write out her words
about every insecurity that still plagues me
and she stops because it’s no longer fun
so she leaves once she’s acknowledged
and once again I return to my inner peace

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: not sure

I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

me when I wrote this poem

I’m not sure if I have to work as much as I Do
but I know what happens when I don’t
my electric bill goes in the red
a food stamp application is filled and filed
for me and my family
I start to lose sleep over the bills and the things
my kids need
and when I fall into dreamland
dreams of soup kitchens, panhandling,
and scarcity follow me
and I end up in the land of poverty, insanity
and hypervigilance
where I beat myself up for not doing enough
to give my kids the life they deserve
and I regret my life choices that led me here
especially the one where I chose a lazy baby daddy
I’m not sure if I have to work as much as I do
but I’ll continue to do so until my body shuts down
who cares if my hip is broken and I hardly have
any time to myself
I’d rather work myself to the bone than to allow
my family to fall again into being victims of poverty

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Poetry: It could be worse they say

It could be worse they say because I could be dead
my children left without a mother
my parents left without a daughter
My friends and coworkers left without entertainment
of my emotional and dramatic hijinks
And I left without fulfilling my potential or life purpose
It could be worse they say because with me gone
Who else will give you my special brand of crazy?

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: charity

I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

feeling some kind of way

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

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

Poetry: Monster

So serious
BPD life be like

I’m a real monster when I can’t see past my anger
I want to burn you down
I want you to drown
And at times I can control
my impulsivity and revenge
But sometimes my anger can’t be caged
And I try to keep it in between the pages
of my journal and notebooks
but the resentment becomes too loud
to let you off the hook
So a passive aggressive status post happens
with an intent to insult and offend
I want you to feel my anger all the way revealed
Maybe one day I’ll get much better
not allowing my anger to turn me into a monster

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: we’re fucked

I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

another 4 years of trump and who knows if America
will still be standing
if anyone who’s not male or white will still have rights
another 4 years of trump and I see a future of fascism
and dictatorship and U.S born citizens being sent back
to their parent’s country of origin
another 4 years of trump and I’m not sure I’ll still be alive
or at very least still maintain a semblance of my sanity

7/29/24

Posted on by pattytacuri · 3 Comments

poetry: today

I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

we had the same vibe

it wasn’t until today I realized how ordinary you really were
It wasn’t that you were ever that interesting or special
It was me with my lovergirl delusional glasses
refusing to see past what was in front of me
Seeing and getting caught up in fantasies
of who you could be
when really you were, the most ordinary of men
not malicious, not especially intelligent
not really helpful
just kind of existing without any spark
without anything that would  make me
look twice at you now