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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BRILLIANT BLOGGER POET INTERVIEW: PROVOCATIVE DAYDREAMING WITH BOGDAN DRAGOS – PART II

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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they just knew it

the last time they
saw him
happy
was when he told them about
that weird dream
he had
in which wine
poured from the tap in
his kitchen

and that
was it

he had nothing else
in life to
be happy about

They didn’t need to
ask his
profession

Somehow they
all knew
he was a
poet

nothing good on TV for 18 years By Bogdan Dragos

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Gobblers & Masticadores

there's nothing good on TV
when you're in
a crap mood

"Shit," he thought. "Nothing's gonna be
good on TV for
the next 18 years. At least."

he sighed
and shifted his position on
the couch

four days till New Year's Eve
and he already
got the greatest
gift one could wish for. A positive
pregnancy test from
his girlfriend

Oh, he was over the
moon
and everybody knew

"Meh, I don't need TV. I'm
the best actor
I've seen..."

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Don’t Think Like a Human by Bogdan Dragos

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MasticadoresIndia // Editora: Terveen Gill

A porcelain piggy standing on currency and wrapped in currency notes
Image Source: Snappa

it was a sad

sight

lately

and the sounds coming

from it were even

sadder

Such was the house

of humans

Full of shouts

and objects banging and

breaking against the walls,

curses against gods,

against parents,

death threats,

agony

and grief

and pure rage

destruction

But not being humans

the two of them

watched from outside,

from their enclosure

outside their pen

“It’s the destiny of

all humans,” she told

him

“To fight each other

to death?” he asked

She nodded

her big, fleshy head,

making her ears flap. “That’s

right. The curse of

those humans is that

they’re trying

too hard

to place a male and

a female in the same space,

have them share the

same life

and actually expect it to

work out. How foolish.”

“Is there really

no way

it can work out?” he asked

“Ah, you’re so young. Barely

more than…

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see through the keyhole By Bogdan Dragos

Gobblers & Masticadores

you can only see through the keyhole
but you’re never meant to
go through the door

She wrote the words
on a napkin
as she watched
from her lone table
the couple holding hands
and kissing
a few tables away

Then she turned the napkin
on the other side
and wrote

Maybe I should just stop searching
and start writing poetry

followed by
a smiley face
that she copied with her own

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cheat code activated

Well no wonder he kept dying
or the police
would catch up to him
in the first minute after hitting someone
or stealing a car. The game
was for big kids. It said so on the box. He
got bored despite all the things
he could do and put
the controller down.

He looked around the living room
went into the kitchen
She was nowhere

He went upstairs
opened the door to the bedroom
and, well, she was there
sprawled on the bed
naked
filming herself with her phone
while continually stabbing
herself
between the legs with... a lightsaber? It
seemed painful too. She was gasping.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

And her response was a scream
She pulled the
lightsaber thingy out
and threw it under the bed
and turned off the phone. "Hey, what did I tell
you about entering without
knocking?"

"Nothing," he said.

"Well... Just... Just don't tell
anyone about it, okay? And why did you come
upstairs anyway?

"I'm sorry. Look, I keep dying at
the game."

She came downstairs with him
grabbed the controller
unpaused the game
"Watch this."
Circle, Right, Circle, Right, Left, Square, Triangle, Up
She passed the controller to him
"Okay, now go kill somebody."

he crossed the street and punched an
old lady to death
and then stomped on her body

everyone saw that

no police showed up
no yellow stars. Nothing.

"Whaaaaat? I don't believe it."
He wandered into the street, stopped
a car
opened the driver's door
pulled the driver out
beat him to death and stole the
car.

No police

"How did you do it?"

"A boyfriend taught me. Along with
many, many other things. You can
even get a device that lets you fly."

"I don't believe it!"

"Believe it. Infinite health too. I can
do that for you. If, of course..."

"Yes, yes! I'll keep the secret. I swear! And I
swear to God you're
the best, best babysitter I've ever
had. This! This is what I'm gonna
tell dad when
he gets home. I swear!"

"Don't bother. He knows."

sidewalk

I am a sidewalk

one upon whom your
feet dragged heavy and
wet and tired

and I wonder where you
are going
and where you're coming
from

I look up constantly and
am tired of soles and legs and
panties and dropped coins
and litter

and indifference

Too many people, too few dogs
and cats and some rats at night

But you are
different. You wear no shoes and
your little feet are cold and
so delicate
and in your wake you are painting
me with a trail of blood

you are not in the mood to
receive compliments, I know. But
I'll say it anyway. You are beautiful

I hope he never catches you

I wish there was
something I could do
about it

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