Bogdan Dragos -Third Time

Gobblers / Masticadores // Editores: Manuela Timofte / j re crivello

This morning he sent his third part (third time) of poems that we will publish every Wednesday. I personally thank the author who has many followers who value his written work.

j re crivello founder of Masticadores (*)

life’ll smile father punched him lightly in the shoulder and said, "Hey, keep that chin up, buddy. Just know that a time will come when life'll smile at us." Sure, he'd been saying that since forever. That was the earliest and most common memory of him Grinning from ear to ear and saying that a day will come when life'll smile upon them But until that day they'll have to sit in the town square and play their cheap instruments for passersby to drop money in their box Keep that chin up… Oh, father. You can't play the violin holding your chin up And life won't smile if you keep playing it…

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cartoonist

Dad was fat all his life
Obese
He couldn’t do a lot of things.
Walk without special help
Bathe
Climb stairs
Sit in a normal chair
Drive a normal car
Sleep in a normal bed
And say “I love you, son.”

To draw those words out
of his dad he became a cartoonist,
but that also failed.

And now that his father
was dead,
collapsed face down
on the kitchen floor,
blood seeping out of a head wound,
he struggled to turn him over
on his back
and dipped his finger in the blood
and drew a speech bubble
next to his father’s head
and wrote in it the famous words.

Finally.
“I love you too, dad.”

think about his future

They had the poor girl lie
on the cold tile floor
and then they all pissed on her
and you could hear them tell her to open her
mouth wide and stick her tongue
out
It was one of the
poorest videos on the site
but the women watching it 
recognized the girl
She went
to the same high school as them 
back in the day

So
trashy porn is what she turned to

Not exceptionally unusual, but
one of the kids
running in the park before them was her child
Just eight or nine

"You know," said one of them. "Like it or not
it's just a matter
of time until our sons catch wind of
this and then..."

"Oh my..."

"Goodness!"

"The sins of the parents are visited upon
the children. It's not fair. Imagine
the life her poor kid's gonna
have."

"Yeah, our own kids might
very well be the bullies, we'll never know. Like I said,
it's a matter of time..."

"Well, goodness, what can we do
about it?"

"Flag the video?"

"You know it won't work..."

"Oh, I got an idea. What if... you know, what if
we all uploaded sexy vids of us. Um, not
necessarily as trashy as this one
but just pornographic enough. The boys
won't be able
to gang up and bully one if all their mothers
did it... Right? C'mon, let's do it
for that poor kid. Think about his future..."

The other mothers
looked at her

and they kept looking

mute

until one of them pulled out her
smartphone

The Muse’s Bad Touch – New poetry collection by Bogdan Dragos

Here it is. 
THE MUSE'S BAD TOUCH


A collection of dark poems highlighting the toxic and deadly relationship between poet and muse.


DISCLAIMER: suitable only for a mature audience.


D' you like the cover? I designed it myself  ∩(・ω・)∩ 


Check out the free sample poems (and maybe leave a review). Thanks! 


I don't wanna say that the poems contained in this book are dark. It would sound pretentious right off the bat. But, yeah, between dark and light, you know already where they stand.

no matter how fragile the light, it still beats the darkness

By Bogdan Dragos This morning too it jumped on his bed and cried and pounced on his face and licked his forehead Now he had a reason to wake up To feed the cat And he had a reason to take showers Because the cat didn’t like to lick a greasy face He had a […]

no matter how fragile the light, it still beats the darkness

twist the blade

again
she grabs a stool
and places it into the corner
of the room,
climbs on it, assumes the lotus position
and closes her eyes
and covers her ears with headphones

She faces the corner

The voice that speaks into her
headphones starts a
countdown

Meanwhile
her father shakes his head as
he watches her
“You can’t be serious,” he says. “Are
you meditating again to ask God to make life
fair? Is that it? What happened?
Was your Uber late? Internet connection slow?
Heheh!”

She doesn’t hear him. The voice
in her headphones says, “And twist. Remember
to always twist. If you only stab
him it’s not enough. That’s just gonna do
a little damage that can be fixed with a quick visit
to the ER. You have to twist the blade. That’s
when the significant damage happens. Twist
as much as you can. Show no mercy.
Take advantage of
the fact that he will not expect this from you.”


thick glass

three weeks
and the shards were still there
still scattered on the tiles
of the kitchen floor

that was a thick glass
meant for classy strong drinks
like whiskey

Yeah, now that he thought about it
it was whiskey she
ordered. But he filled
the glass with milk and said,
“You know what the doctor said, mother.
No more alcohol for you. Here, try
this instead.”

And he would strongly
prefer not to remember what followed
after

The shards were still
on the kitchen floor

and the gash still on the side of
his neck. Stitched now
but painful nonetheless


the veins By Bogdan Dragos

As promised, Bogdan opens fire with a short storie -j re crivello (Editor) Something wasn’t quite right in this small, barren room. The man sitting across the square table, dressed in a white coat, seemed a little to calm for someone in reaching distance. ‘I could just reach for that bald head and snap the […]

the veins By Bogdan Dragos

a very happy neighborhood

At 22:00 she would come out looking
for him
Would call out his name
and eventually find him by the
sandbox or the slide
and would dust him off a bit
and take him home
and feed him

As she’d put him to bed
she’d kiss his face, sometimes
his mouth
and he’d ask, “Why did you do that?”

and she’d reply, “I don’t know.
But did you like it?”

And he’d either nod or say
yes, knowing that it’ll make her smile
and then she’d cuddle with him
until he’d fall asleep
and whisper in his ear that she always
wanted to have a little boy
just like him
and that he was making her unbelievably
happy just by existing in the same
room with her

She was the best neighbor he could
have dreamed of

She gave him all the attention
his mother gave to her bottles and
her guy friends

and everyone was very happy


Mr. Tap-Tap by Bogdan Dragos

Gobblers / Masticadores // Editores: Manuela Timofte / j re crivello

When you see someone for long enough you get used to them and then you start noticing patterns in their behavior he was their teacher in creative writing weird guy in his late thirties going bald bespectacled pedo mustache scrawny body always wearing dark suits, a bit oversized He sat at his desk and watched the students and the students watched him Why does he always do that? they eventually asked. Why does he always tap his foot when talking to some girl but never when he talks to boys? He would appoint a female student to present her homework or some project or something and stand her up and while she spoke he would stare at her and tap his foot and the tapping would begin light and would grow in intensity strange guy tap-tap-tap ta-rap-tap-tap went his foot as the girls talked "I heard he's divorced," said one…

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