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Iza Garcia Alonso Poem
Chases me down a paint-stained alley.
My feet are swollen—maybe someday they’ll rot
Exhausted from the brush stroke agony
I seize when the light forces itself upon me
When will I decide to turn myself into dust
Deranged is what I seem to be
They locked me in a rage-filled scene
Hearing petrified, hate-charged screams.
Peering through the curtains as I wake from restless sleep
Staring at a starry night
It sings me a melodic, stunning melody
Maybe the air that flows through my lungs
Perhaps the heart that pumps my blood
Is not what I truly need
Maybe a pistol will give me ultimate peace
Perhaps a bullet will allow me to foresee
As I lay near my brother
I don't sob, I don't plead
The life I lived wasn't for me
“The sadness will last forever”
It won't be cured by remedies
So I must cut short my legacy
The rope that strangled me with miseries
My death is not a tragedy
Copyright © Iza Garcia Alonso | Year Posted 2025
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Iza Garcia Alonso Poem
Post-its, coat the
Brain I keep controlling
sticking to my skull
Without holding their notice
Maybe I have spiraled out of focus
Leaving all my thoughts to obliterate my homage
It's really you on my mind
Your carving words Into my eyes
Leaving notes on my spine
As I gash into my thighs
It’s really you on my mind
I scribbled nonsense on your veins
You doodled through my tangled mane
As the pages ripped
Between words and skits
Our seats became too distance
Too far to send our visions
Of the present we desired and the past we wished to admire
etched on crumpled stained paper that was soon to be waste
Sprawled across an abandoned place that was meant to house the unworthy and the disgraced
Copyright © Iza Garcia Alonso | Year Posted 2025
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Iza Garcia Alonso Poem
Woke up with a headache
Throbbing to the beat
Of that song on the radio
Always on repeat
Sung by a masochist
Written by a creep
How I love when I’m criticized by the meek
By a rickety white man
That’s morals are constructed
By hate and inequality
Love that’s paired with scrutiny
Plus constructs that are weak
Trust my lovely brother
He’s funded manipulation
For a proper nation
Where the homos repent
Where the women are mothers
Where the church is forced on the troubled
Where naturalism is turned to ash
Where equality is taught to be bad
Woke up with a headache
Throbbing to the beat
Of the rhythm the soldiers make with their feet
Reciting orders told to them
Mistakes will certify being beat
They learn the steps to a dance
Named the atrocity
Copyright © Iza Garcia Alonso | Year Posted 2025
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Iza Garcia Alonso Poem
Nothing beats the summer breeze
The memories of the ones who leave
Lotus flowers smile at me
Saying this will pass, you’ll come to see
Walking in a forest with my shoes in my bag
Wishing I were leaving the town that I have
The year is almost over, and I’m still lying on the grass
The year is almost over, and I still step on broken glass
Pop another Valium
To soothe the attacks
My body’s stiff and stagnant
But now it’s turning back
I just want my mama
She levels out the sad
Wanna go back home
I miss what I had
I miss what hurt me last
My bedroom feels so rotten
As I lay on my stomach
I pray, I pray
For another
Just another solemn day
Oh, how I pray
For the world to spare some change
Please, lord bless my name
Question my camaraderie
Yes, I’m still attached
My mind is always cluttered
Still thinking of the past
I just want some stability
It lets me stay intact
Wanna go back home
I miss what I had
I often fantasize about the year
That left me cracked
Left me bawling tears
Getting high every day
Beach trips and smoking
Some ty friends
Who urged me to stay that way
It was nice while it lasted
Oh so fantastic
I thought everything would be okay
Everything will be okay
That’s what I say
That everything will be okay
That’s what I say
Now that I’m losing my faith
Copyright © Iza Garcia Alonso | Year Posted 2025
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Iza Garcia Alonso Poem
Peeling clementines while crying
Gotta get it together this time
Partied on the weekend
One drink won’t start a fight
The lights draw me in
They’re saying it will be alright
I’m just a loser
Who has to stay sober on party night
Sitting on dried-up spit
Trying to push my tears down
I’ll be the jester if I cry
The crowd is shouting
Laughing, kissing, waving goodbye
Why can’t I see it?
Why am I not healthy and bright?
My friend is kneeling
Asking if I’m alright
Why can’t I see it?
Why can’t I be a girl full of life
Copyright © Iza Garcia Alonso | Year Posted 2025
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Iza Garcia Alonso Poem
My paper cut is infected
Cause it was neglected
Bandaids won’t solve the issue
Some alcohol on a tissue
Slice up all my fingers
Cut my arms
Tear my veins
Rip my heart
Why are you vain
You got some blood on your hands
Just wash them
Pretend to understand
You think your such a man
By leaving me buried in the sand
My paper cut is infected
I might need some septic
Slap my cheek
Ignore my defeat
You got my blood on your hands
I don’t know who I am
Bleeding out on the road
Pass the stop sign
Cause I know your ready to go
Copyright © Iza Garcia Alonso | Year Posted 2025
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