Saturday, August 10, 2019

SERE


Sere
By: José Rómulo Sosa Ortiz

Un dia llegara que ya
de tanto ir y venir rodando
el cuerpo me dira que no
que pare, que ya esta cansado
un dia llegara quizas
que tenga que pagar muy caro
por no saber decir que no
a la ancia de llegar mas alto
sere
quien todo lo dio por triunfar
dejando su vida al pasar
hecha pedazos
sere
un sueño que si se cumplio
un potro al que nadie domo
solo los años...
Un dia llegara, quizas
que no sepa que seguir contando
y entonces yo me callare
y ya me quedare callado
sere
quien todo lo dio por truinfar
dejando su vida al pasar
hecha pedazos
sere
un sueño que si se cumplio
un potro al que nadie domo
solo los años
sere
un hombre que no pudo màs
un viejo gavilan cansado
de hecharle a las palomas
pan.


The lyrics of this song speak volumes to me as I grow through the days. I think we can all see ourselves through the lyrics. It’s one of my favorite works. I thought I'd like to share it with all of you.
-        Rodolfo Perez
Editor

Monday, July 8, 2019

W.E.I.R.D.


Untitled
By: DaddyMatrix

I like how society relies on other people's perspectives and other's bodies,
I guess that is why I'm not perfect because I am broken.
My wrists are slit with guilt.
 Demons wrapping themselves around my neck,
Trying to choke out my last breath,
But all I do is smile.
 Because the only thing worse than a demon is a person.
They see one glimpse of your body that they so much wanted to see.
Fearful, they retreat back,
Hate and grim words that you say to yourself before,
You now spew towards them.
 This world is just as broken as me.
My wrists grinding themselves into reality because we are each other's demons.
Just before I choke you to death,
I will choke myself first.


P.E.N.T.C.I.

Friday, May 17, 2019

Update #27

Hello everyone and welcome to update #27 here on Me Talking. I’d like to take a moment to explain my absence over the last month or so. To be frank, I was just swamped with school work as I finished up my second year at University! Although I should be celebrating the end of another semester, I have made it a promise to make sure I take this summer to study ahead of time for my upcoming courses. Along with that, I aim to really hit the other projects I hold off during the school year (YouTube, blogging, travelling etc.) hard, so that I can cleanse myself before the incoming pounding that is going to be organic chemistry and physics.

            Hmmm what else has been going on? Let me see, oh yeah, I was recently the talk of a controversial marketing campaign surrounding my re-election to the student government on campus, but that story will require a post of its own. Let’s just say it includes satanism, bribery, a wild car chase, and the break of my psyche! It was definitely a wonderful thing to stress about despite all the classwork I had to get done! Shout out to my university, what lads, truly.

            I was able to see The Misfits who were amazing, celebrated six months of dating with my girlfriend the following week, and saw the 1975 a couple weeks after (yesterday). Overall, I would say the summer has gotten off to a good start.

            Beyond that, I can’t really think of anything else going on at the moment. I don’t know, it’s a bit early when I’m writing this, so maybe I just need to let things sit before I can think clearly.

            Oh yeah, and I’m expecting to release a few poems next week, so keep an eye on that.


Thanks for being the best supporters a boy can have. More to come, I promise.
Cheers,
Rodolfo Perez
Editor-in-Chief

Monday, March 11, 2019

Poem


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

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.
Depth,
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.
Floating.
Tumbling.
Floating.
Tumbling.
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.






P.E.N.T.C.I.