BUTUNG IS LAYP | Coconut is Life

afternoon coffee with Bogdan
2022 | © tea solon
Mandaue City

Taking a short break from doing translation work and now devouring Bogdan‘s 2020 poetry collection PourWhiskey Over My Heart And Set It On Firewhich carries with it the signature images that scandalizes, tears, and undo me every time. I love how Bogdan’s poetry disturbs the psyche and annihilates moral boundaries that sometimes Boccaccio’s The Decameron comes to mind and marries every heinous psychological thriller film there is. Great afternoon read!

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Un boxer ghinionist

(ง •̀_•́)ง ผ(•̀_•́ผ) English version HERE!

MasticadoresRumanía Editora: Manuela Timofte

de Bogdan Dragoș

era boxer a apucat îndeletnicirea cam pe la opt ani și n-a mai lăsat-o din mâini. Din nefericire însă, a fi un bun boxer nu-ți garantează și o slujbă bună în societatea de azi. Tot ce-a reușit a fost să se angajeze ca agent de pază într-un un club de noapte local. IQ-ul său nu prea i-a venit în ajutor. Bătu un număr destul de mare de agitatori pe acolo și asta i-a câștigat o reputație a devenit o vedetă locală femeile-l doreau și l-au avut și viața a fost bună până când oponentul invincibil a pășit în ring. Ei bine, sunt mulți oponenți invincibili în viața unui bărbat, însă al lui a fost cancerul la prostată. Toate femeile care voiau să facă poze cu el și îi cereau autograful pe sâni și voiau să-l ia cu ele acasă nu mai însemnau nimic acum. Una dintre ele…

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dumpster fire by Bogdan Dragos

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Gobblers & Masticadores

four nights ago one of the plastic dumpsters caught fire and kept burning until morning it offered light and warmth and the best part... as it grew ever smaller with melting, it resembled a statuette of a female figure licking lustfully at it's own hands joined in prayer It would've been a sin not to take her home He had no home other than the abandoned building he lived in though, so he took her there and joined her in prayer and made love to it many times, his lips black from caressing the burnt plastic this morning too he defecates on it and spreads the stuff all over her face to keep her alive There is infinite happiness in his success She starts talking to him, uttering kind words he'd never heard from humans in his life “My love,” she says, “your genuine appreciation of my beauty pleases me…

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Pressure by Bogdan Dragos

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♡✧( ु•⌄• )

Chewers & Masticadores // Editora: Nolcha Fox

The close up black and white image of a woman wearing a superhero eye mask and smoking a cigarette
Image Source: Canva Pro

she slept with a small,

thin Batman plushie

between her


and often woke up

with it

soaked in sweat

The poor Batman looked



and suicidal.

Clearly he was facing a

villain he could

not hope to defeat

It was the dreams

that made her

sweat so

There was much pressure

in her dreams

The last one

was about her lower jaw

pressing against the upper


until the teeth came out

of their socket, all of them,

and she swirled them

around her mouth

like tic-tacs

and eventually swallowed them

one by one

until she choked

In another dream

she pressed

her thumbs against her


until they went in with

a crunchy sound followed

by complete silence

and pain

but the worst dreams

were those in

which she applied pressure

to others

and not to herself

There was a lot of


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still playing by Bogdan Dragos

(´。• ᵕ •。`) ♡ Visit Gobblers/Masticadores and find more writings you can enjoy! Thanks! 

Gobblers & Masticadores

that love is a strange thing we need not remind ourselves again too much has been said about the damn thing and not enough has been felt we're not getting anywhere like that, are we? Rather than talk about it just allow yourself to feel Maybe go out, open the trunk of your car and find among the junk the thick, white rope that not too long ago circled her throat she wanted to die that day but you wouldn't let her followed her into the forest, you have. And tackled her at the base of the wide oak tree with low branches you robbed her of her rope like robbing an elderly lady of her purse in some dark parking lot She cried and held on to it but you were more determined life won over death that day life has to win over death every day, while death…

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A Bouquet of Blood Roses by Bogdan Dragos

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Chewers & Masticadores // Editora: Nolcha Fox

The abstract image of a young woman in red with a red rose superimposed over her
Image Source: Canva

even the full moon

felt like a

spotlight above him

It made him

sweat in

the cold night

as he

wandered the streets

Nothing too out of

the ordinary

about him. Just an

average guy

wearing average clothes

and carrying a

rather thick strand of hair

in his breast pocket

crimson red

and long as a


He would hold on

to it for

the rest of his life,

no doubt about it

Surely it was a thing that

he could take

along even

if he would be dragged into


which was definitely not

out of the

question at this time

His tired pacing


him away from the main


and towards the back


where he stopped

before a dumpster and


and held the crimson

strand of hair in his palms

like a crushed flower,

watering it with

his tears

as he began…

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Daunele sezonului ploios

English version HERE ヽ(•‿•)ノ  

MasticadoresRumanía Editora: Manuela Timofte

de Bogdan Dragoș

a fost un sezon ploios destul de nemilos și ploaia-l punea mereu pe tată în dispoziția de a bea A băut mai mult în sezonul ăsta decât oricând iar dinții lipsă ai mamei și umărul său rupt au fost dovada perfectă În mod surprinzător vechea poveste cu căzutul pe scări a ținut în fața medicilor Ei bine, în tocmai cum el își nenoroci nevasta și sezonul ăsta ploios a nenorocit acoperișul casei Goli ce a mai rămas din sticla de votcă și luă scara și câteva unelte după care ieși din casă Fiul său îi ținu scara Întotdeauna înjura temeinic când lucra la ceva. Acum își înjură nevasta în timp ce lucra la acoperiș și mai zise și ceva despre fiul său, cum că n-ar fi al lui. și așa, al doilea cel mai bun lucru despre căderea lui a fost faptul că fiul nici măcar n-a…

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a big hole in the ear lobe by Bogdan Dragos

(☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞ Visit Gobblers/Masticadores and find more writings you can enjoy! Thanks! 

Gobblers & Masticadores

She pointed at the

big hole in

her ear lobe.

“Yeah, I tried putting

a horn through it.

Real piece of horn from

a bull, by the way.

But problem was, after I got

it in, well, it just

didn’t look as cool as

I thought it would. It

didn’t look

like a horn. More like a

dick. I don’t wanna

walk around with

a dick in my ear. And now I’m

stuck with

this hole. I like it,

but I’d like to

fill it with something.

Something cool, you know?

What would you put in it

if you

were me? Oh, and don’t give some

witty answer like ‘common sense’ or

‘a brain’ or some shit

like that cuz I’ll leave

right away.”

He said nothing. Just watched

her, eyes

fixated on the large hole

in her ear lobe

She snapped her

fingers. “Hey, you alright


He said…

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Bad Blood by Bogdan Dragos

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Chewers & Masticadores // Editora: Nolcha Fox

The close up of a woman's lower face with bloody lips and blood dripping down her chin and her bloody fingers upon her chin
Image Source: Canva

Nine PM caught them sitting on

the broken bench by

the river banks

She removes her jacket and

stretches her

hands. “See?” she says, “I told you I’m

bad blood.”

He stares at her,

mute and dumb and

utterly incapable to find himself

in her dark eyes “Huh?”

“The mosquitoes,” she says. “They

don’t want to

suck my blood. See? Not one of

‘em lands on me.” Lightly, she hammers a

fist against her chest. “This blood

is poisoned, I tell you. I’ve been

drinking since

my age was in the single digits. Helped

myself to mother’s stash

countless times. Now you can’t tell

my chest apart from a boy’s and, if I

remember right, I was about sixteen

by the time I had

my first period. Pretty sure I

can’t have children either. Though

I never really tested this.”

He hesitates. “But… your face is like

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Poetry and Prose of Ken Hume

5. Where did you get the idea for your Daydreaming as a Profession blog site? Was it something you’ve always wanted to do? And how long has it been in existence?
Daydreaming is and was always my favorite activity. And the one I’m really good at (because it happens effortlessly). I’ve been doing it all my life, but never thought I could create something tangible from it.
Now pretty much every poem is the result of daydreaming.
Growing up, I’ve often been told that I daydream too much. The Romanian expressions for daydreaming sound something along the lines of, “to dream with one’s eyes open,” and my personal favorite, “to dream of green horses on the walls”.
Goodness, I can’t recall how many times I’ve heard that in my life. If someone could show me snapshots of my life, 85% of them would probably be of me holding a fixed…

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