It’s All a Game by Bogdan Dragos

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ヽ(♡‿♡)ノ 

MasticadoresIndia // Editora: Terveen Gill

A doll lying submerged in green moldy stale water with a frog sitting near its head
Image Source: Canva

but what are we alive for

if not to play

and enjoy

games

life itself is

but a game

and the best at it are

those who don’t

grow up, those who can

still view it

as such

She tried to teach her

four children

this truth

that’s why she brought them

into the backyard

where all the small trash bags,

so well wrapped in tape,

were laid on the grass,

and told them,

“It’s like that Easter game

where you find

the eggs. Only this time it’s

with small trash bags,

and you’ll be hiding

them.” She clapped

her hands a few times. “So let’s

go then. Mommy will

play along this time.

Let’s hide

the bags.”

It was the police

who came to

search for them later

“Can we build a dad

with all

these parts?” asked

one of the kids

after the policemen

won…

View original post 113 more words

Pisica din papuc

(っ◕‿◕)っ English version HERE

MasticadoresRumanía Editora: Manuela Timofte

de Bogdan Dragoș

Camera era rece
și flori gri de mucegai 
înfloreau pe pereți.
Și-a dat jos papucii
și aceștia fiind cele mai calde
lucruri din cameră
puiul de pisică
se adăposti într-unul din ei.

El stătu pe o saltea în colț
și mângâie pisica
din papuc.
Deodată, zâmbi și zise,
– Eh, măcar n-am datorii.

Până și Dumnezeu
a fost de acord cu el. I-a făcut
cu ochiul
prin gaura din tavan.

Imagine de Adina Voicu de la Pixabay

Volume publicate:

https://bogdandragos.com/

Poem postat inițial pe https://gobblersmasticadores.wordpress.com/

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Doar un trotuar

(☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞ Read the English version of this poem HERE

MasticadoresRumanía Editora: Manuela Timofte

de Bogdan Dragoș

Sunt un trotuar

unul pe care ale tale picioare
s-au târât grele și 
umede și obosite

și mă-ntreb încotro te
duci
și de unde vii

Mă uit într-una în sus
sătul de tălpi și picioare
chiloți și monede pierdute
și gunoaie aruncate 

și indiferență

Prea mulți oameni, prea puțini câini
și doar câteva pisici și șobolani
în noapte

Dar tu ești diferită. Tu nu porți
pantofi și piciorușele tale
sunt reci și delicate 
și-n urma ta 
mă pictezi cu o dâră de sânge 

N-ai chef de complimente, știu. Dar
am s-o spun oricum. Ești frumoasă

Și sper... sper că 
oricine te urmărește 
n-o să te 
prindă niciodată

Îmi doresc să pot face
ceva, să pot ajuta

dar eu sunt un trotuar
sub tine
și pot doar privi

Imagine de toocheesh de la Pixabay

https://bogdandragos.com/

Volume publicate:

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our very own patron saint By Bogdan Dragos

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

he was a doctor

Goddammit, they were looking at
a doctor
He came into the casino in a suit,
the same suit every day and night
dark gray
shiny with grease around the
elbows and lower back
smelly
patched up in places

he kinda forgot what it was like to be
sober

and lately he kinda forgot what
it was like to win at the slot machines

he forgot how to perform surgery
how to diagnose a patient

forgot what the company of a woman felt like

forgot what love was

he was a machine that consumed cheap
but strong alcohol
Rubbing alcohol filtered through bread
That stuff was 70% alcohol
his liver knew it

"Ah, pleaseeee, for the love of God, don't
make me work with this
stuff again," he would scream while
playing at the slot machine

and the bouncer would walk up to him
and say, "Hey…

View original post 210 more words

Rotten Tongue by Bogdan Dragos

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MasticadoresIndia // Editora: Terveen Gill

A close up of a man sticking out his tongue and there are nails embedded in it
Image Source: Snappa

the big purple bird

with no eyes

and chipped beak

didn’t fly

It walked like a normal

person would. Almost like someone

was wearing it as a costume

but he knew

of course

that there was no one wearing the costume

It

was real

and it showed itself to him

on too many occasions. Every time

he was alone

and it was hard to not be

alone

when you drove all people away from

your life

The bird got closer and

closer and

began talking to him and telling him

how his rotten tongue was

cursed

and that he would drive away everyone

to whom he spoke

He couldn’t take it anymore

and ran out of

the house

and towards the car

Oh, but the purple bird was

there already

Inside

Waiting on the passenger’s side

he began to scream

They found him the next morning

collapsed…

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The Watcher by Bogdan Dragos

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

the bartender was displeased with him and the patrons didn't like him much either He was the sickly, slender man who came at opening time and sat at the table by the window, watching the people outside he sat there until closing time problem was, he occupied that seat for so many hours in a row with only one drink usually a cognac sometimes he would mix all sorts of pills in it and wait for them to dissolve some did others didn't Regardless, he sipped at his drink and watched the people outside and spoke to nobody and seemed never to be bothered by noise, like he was deaf and the days passed and the weeks went by and he'd show up without fail When they did talk about him they called him The Watcher and speculated about his mental illness However, when I went to the bar myself…

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adventure girl by Bogdan Dragos

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

It is known
You can never hold on to
an adventurer

and she was one

And she was gone

and he stood by the window
and smelled the
guitar she left behind,
not knowing how to play it

A girl like her
travels around the world
like a sailor and
loves many boys and men
and they never forget her

The one mistake
they all share is
trying to lock her in their
world

It’s like trying to
capture the sun’s light in
a bag and take it
into your dark house

Women like her
are responsible for
men who call themselves
romantics and write love poems
and dream

He struck the cords
of the guitar
once. Looked out
the window. Warm, sunny day.
Streets busy with children
running fast, passing by
adults who walked slow

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you cannot kill a poet by Bogdan Dragos

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

young people, they think nobody has the same thoughts as them they take great pride in some made up originality as if really nobody ever thought up scenarios of themselves descending some rope from some helicopter and dropping in the middle of enemy forces and starting to shoot around, all movie like ‘an shit and killing all the bad guys while not taking one bullet One man army or there’s those other thoughts of being simply the greatest at some sport and being admired and envied for it also, the thoughts of sex in all its forms the thoughts of mindless violence of saving the day of being somewhere else and doing something else all kinds of thoughts and all the minds who think them label them as original but they’re not original they’re every young person’s thoughts and me, I also have thoughts I consider original I think of…

View original post 178 more words

Hunger by Bogdan Dragos

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

by Andrea Kowch

those cold evenings
coming inside
the house and crying
"Mom, I'm hungry."

A whirl on the heels
A stare colder than
the outside weather
Hands on her hips
"Show me your tongue."

The little mouth opens
and the tongue
comes out

She stares at it
and then grabs it between
her thumb and index
and studies it, gives it
a rub and
declares: "No. You're not that
hungry. Get out of
here and leave me alone."

And her words carry the finality
of God's words from
the Bible
because she is the god of this
small world
and her word is law

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the outsider by Bogdan Dragos

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

my neighbor from upstairs
claims that
God sticks
post-it notes on his
fridge overnight

I did ask him
what they said but
he only told me that I'll
have to follow
him to church if
I want to find out

I'm generally not a very
curious guy
so I declined
and, what do you know, few
days later I see
lots of other
people following my
neighbor to church

They all looked the
other way when
I passed by them and said hi

Thing is
I don't even doubt
God spoke to my neighbor
through post-it notes
and gave a lot of people hope

I just
like being the outsider
more than I like
being hopeful

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