Ivy

9/30/2023

Tell us about a time when you felt out of place.

the ceilings of America are laced with poison ivy
every time I act out of the norm or forget to code switch
people tell me I’m too dramatic -ouch-
accused of being toxic and crazy-damn
and a rash of doubt takes over my mind
I’ll never fit it, no one will ever love or accept me
and I turn down who I am
but even that doesn’t work
it makes things worse
and I explode and project-
fuck you, you’re blocked
then I discover therapy -slowly I heal
accept the pieces of myself that will never fit in
exhibit myself in my most authentic form
and slowly the poison ivy becomes an ivy of love and growth
and I understand that to be happy
I need let go of normalcy
and embrace my unconventional and eccentric self

Poetry: Winning the War

I can’t live without you another day
But I have to stay away
You are now part of my past
To you, I was another piece of ass
Even though I wish your love was mine
Without you, I will be just fine
Because no matter how weak I get
The memory of you, I must learn to forget
So with these few words I may win the war
On loving you no more

12th day of patty: no second thoughts

I wrote this poem earlier this month for a future version of myself. I wanted to end 2024 with a hopeful and romantic note.

lighting hits me and I’m in love all over again
this time I take my vows seriously
this time I believe in the whole
“til death do us part” bit
this time it’s far from perfect and ideal
but for once in my life
we’re enough for each other
and there are no seconds thoughts
that this is true love

poetry: consequences

I wrote this poem in August of 2022.

for real for real….

the consequences of being a hopeless romantic outweigh any rewards
everytime I start to believe in love it never works out
Everytime I start to believe in love it ends up in chaos and destruction
and i try and try again only always to have the same ending
and after 26 years of doing this-I don’t have it in me
to endure around love failure
someone who appears sure of me-only for them to change their mind
about me on a whim
the consequences of being a hopeless romantic has filled a dozen
notebooks and journals with sorrow and grief

if I won the lottery

first stop…Peru
Bloganuary writing prompt
What would you do if you won the lottery?

I always joke around that if I won the lottery that the first thing I would do is get pay for therapy for my parents and siblings. I’d send them self help books and a dbt workbooks. Haha. In actuality, one of the first things I’d do if I won the lottery is quit my second part time job at the grocery store but keep my day job for a while since I am a child of routine. I’d probably proceed to find ways to invest money so my kids could have generational wealth. Perhaps do one of those adult things like hire a financial advisor. I’d also start planning trips with my kids and my parents to Peru. I’d pay for a place for my ex to move into and pay for all of the moving costs. I’d get the braces I’ve always needed. I’d buy friends extravagant gifts and help them with any annoying household expenses they’ve had pending. I’d probably look into taking one of those gourmet cooking courses to learn to cook some fancy ass dishes. I would buy my oldest and middle sons cars. In the long term, I would plan to buy houses in the States and in Oxapampa, Peru. My long term plan would be to take my youngest with me for 2 months to Oxapampa and write in my little house in the mountains. Oh and of course, I’d buy a shitload of poetry and self help books along with pretty journals to write in.

poetry: candle

I wrote this poem in January of 2023.

no fuck you and your pedantic machismo- oh and PWM =privileged white male

I light a candle, put on music, and pay tribute to all that I will never be-
it’s not like I’m denying myself possibilities or opportunities
I’m just acknowledging certain realities
I’ll never have the proper words, the necessary pretentious words
of the upper class pedigree to be published in one of those prestigious journals
or win a pulitzer prize
I’ll never be seen as an equal in American because I’ll always be a foreigner
and while this brings me a certain kind of grief
I also celebrate how different I am
I’ll never filter my words or fake eloquence or elegance
to make myself digestible to those with multiple degrees
Nah, I’m a mosaic masterpiece, with my bad grammar,
my simple vocabulary
and my powerful and emotionally charged phrases
I’m not and never will be for those with sensitive ears or palettes
and I’ll always take pride in that

day eight of patty: outline

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

in my car-the place where my crazy ideas happen

the outline of her body in the middle of the road-
told the most tragic of stories
she wasn’t looking when she crossed the street
she was lost in her thoughts
and the driver speeding didn’t see her
and splat went her body
death came quickly to her
her last thought was mission accomplished
but the world thought
another victim of an unexpected and tragic circumstance

Poetry: The Writer’s Fight

I wrote this poem in February 2022.

me around the time I wrote this poem

To write is to fight
words that cuts like swords
How do I stop this torture?
of suppressing a petty light

Pen stabs paper with might
about past regrets and lost love wars
and memories best left ignored
of a dreadful and chaotic life

To write is to fight
Demons I want to hide from
But I can’t help but succumb
to my constant inner fight

Pen stabs paper with might
and I try to find closure
about past lovers
I write from love and spite

To write is to fight
Do I really need to say that?
Yes,it’s my trauma to unpack
and my words take flight