Monday, March 11, 2019


James Wright is Overrated (or My Dog Has an Existential Crisis)
By: Rodolfo Perez

This is very real. My heart hurts a lot of the time.
Not because I have a condition,
But rather because I fail to express my lack of a condition.
Every morning I wake up to the sound of my master, Rising from her slumber.
She is tired,
She is not doing what she dreamed of doing.
But she gets up anyway.
I sit in bed.
All day.
I do nothing,
Yet they praise me constantly.
They give me food,
They pat my head.
But I cannot tell them how I hate it so.
For I have no voice to tell them.
Oh, Woe is me,
To be cursed in a life of unknown pity,
Where the pity is not warranted,
But pity is desired Nonetheless.
Oh, how I have wasted my life.

Saturday, March 9, 2019

My Dog Has an Existential Crisis

Here's a short video I made. You should all watch it.

Monday, February 18, 2019

Little Things

It’s the Little Things
By: Rodolfo Perez

I live for the little things.

I live for cold water on a hot day, and a cup of hot coffee on the cold nights.

I live for a good poem, or a nice wine, or a ray of sunshine.

I live for the smell of a home-cooked meal on Friday nights,

For I know my family is home to care, and love is in the air.

I live for the moments after a face-mask,

Feeling my smooth, soothing skin.

I live for intimate dinners with great people,

And fries in crowded Chicago Chick-fil-a's.

I live for the seconds.

Not the minutes, nor the days,

Nor the years.

I live for the little things.

Tuesday, February 12, 2019

Dr. Love

Dr. Love (or How I Learned to Stop Wallowing and Write Poetry)
By: Rodolfo Perez

Love is (sometimes) patient,
Love is (sometimes) kind,
And sometimes, love is a needle in the eye,
Or a kick to the groin.

It is a cliff-hanger,
With your mother waiting to catch you,
When you let go.

It is losing your voice,
From crying into your pillow.

It is realizing you’re sometimes going to be Dr. Evil.

It is giving someone your heart,
When you know,

I know,
You know,
It is my mind you truly want.

Yes, love is (sometimes) patient,
Love is (sometimes) kind,
And love will always be alive,
Even when it isn’t.

Tuesday, January 29, 2019

Space Snowman (or Ultima Thule)

Space Snowman (Or Ultima Thule)

By: Rodolfo Perez

A man floats through space.
He’s a man, shaped like two.
Brown, iced, leaning forward,
Looking down at nothing.
He has been beaten to a pulp,
One can see the scars on his face.
There’s a story behind every dent on his rugged skin.
A moment in time he will always carry,
But never feel.
The dents on his skull,
And the lines across his face
 Add a story to his life.
And dimension.
His story is a test of time,
He is hurt,
But he is not broken.
He has no direction,
But he moves on.
Through the void,
And floating evermore,
For a million years more,
Like the million years before.
Floating evermore.
Through the void.
Through the nothingness. 
Never knowing where to go.


Friday, December 21, 2018

Avalanche (Or My Brain Is My Ex) (A Poem)

By: Rodolfo Perez

You once told me you were all I have,
But now you’re gone.
You once told me the world is only good for okay dabs and a decent bottle,
But now you’re gone.
You once showed me you can hate yourself, yet be loved by everyone,
But now you’re just like anyone.
You once showed me things I never knew about myself,
But now you know as much as anyone.
You once taught me the difference between wanting to die, and not wanting to live,
But now you just want to “give, give, give”.
You once agreed when I said changing the world is the key to life,
But now you’re so ready for the nine to five.
You smile,
But not because you’re happy.
You frown,
But not because you’re sad.
You celebrate,
But not because you’re excited.
It’s because you know what would happen,
If you just thought for a moment.
You’d be an avalanche of emptiness.
So, keep on smiling.


Thursday, December 20, 2018

I'm Flying (A Poem)

I’m Flying

By: Rodolfo Perez

I wait. I judge. I live.
Her unbridled interest compliments her gorgeous hazel eyes.
They gleam with awe, and with reservation.
For she is living, after all.
Her heart is like an ocean,
Beautiful, vast, and full of mystery.
Leaving me the desire to explore every meter,
Until I can fully understand the magnificence it has to offer.
She sits on the edge of her seat,
Listening to what the world has to offer.
She’s a jellyfish in her grace,
But a shark in her mind.
She can care as a mother does for a child,
But can charge as a bull does towards a matador.
Oh, how she intrigues me so.
Nothing could ever ruin this.
Nothing could ever ruin this.
Nothing could ever ruin this.
“What if she doesn’t like you?”
“What if you’re reading the signs wrong?”
“Why would she like you?”
“Rumor has it she likes some other boy.”
“You really think you have a chance?”
As a baby bird looks over the nest before its first dive,
I hesitate.
Uncertain of whether I will fall or fly,
I cry.
No one around to push,
For I have to push myself,
But one thing is clear.
No matter how much I cry,
Or hurt,
Or die,
I can never say I didn’t try.
I can never say I didn’t try.
I can never say I didn’t try.
I jump.
And I’m happy I did.