DR Bogdan


and then, maybe, write about it

  • I am hell

    18 October 2019 by

    he could count the major events
    in his life on a
    mangled hand’s fingers
    But this was one of them. The day she took him
    to church.
    So that’s what girlfriends are for.

    But he didn’t like the church
    didn’t like the songs
    didn’t like the preacher and the preaching

    the man spoke of hell. But he
    didn’t know
    shit about hell. No baby, hell’s not a place
    where you go,
    it’s a place where you stay. Namely, a body
    and a mind that has no
    major passions
    no drive towards improvement
    no dreams
    no goals
    no desire to get out and connect with the world
    no love to share
    no stories to tell or disposition to listen
    no reasons to live or carry on

    In other words, me, motherfucker. I am hell.

    He broke up with
    his girlfriend the next day. Her crying didn’t
    affect him

  • INOCENT with a single ‘N’

    16 September 2019 by

    Some daughters love their fathers
    a bit too much
    and their mothers not enough

    This father was a cop,
    the type that deals with the nasty cases
    and he often came home drunk.
    Alcohol did help, he said
    and drank some more on the couch
    and sometimes drank until he passed out

    she was thirteen, his daughter
    and would constantly nag
    him with questions
    about work. He didn’t wanna talk about work,
    about the gruesome details of
    it and all that, but edgy teenagers will be
    edgy teenagers
    She insisted
    and he kept drinking and eventually
    passed out on his side

    She was excited
    took his gun from the holster
    and started studying it with passion
    turning it on all sides, smelling it,
    holding it close
    to the face


    the bullet got her lower jaw
    it was a bloody mess
    and she was in pain and gagging on blood
    and shards of bone and teeth

    to call for help right now
    would be wrong.
    The whole world would accuse daddy
    and he had no fault. And mommy would
    reopen the case and
    have no problem gaining custody of her
    Fuck! This was bad!
    This was so bad!

    And it was getting worse,
    she felt it. Felt close to fainting. Father was still
    on the couch. Passed out drunk.

    She had to take matters into
    her own hands. Shambled
    into the kitchen
    and grabbed the cutting board from
    the table
    and dipped a finger in her bloody mouth
    and wrote with it on the cutting board

    (with a single ‘N’)

    She went outside holding the cutting board
    and knocked on
    the neighbor’s door.

  • The knife listens

    10 September 2019 by

    but that handle was made for his hand
    hand – handle
    handle – hand

    the fingers would close
    around it to never let go
    It had to have flesh around it
    at all times
    But the blade…
    the blade was still naked. He couldn’t let
    the blade naked
    It wasn’t fair

    “So that’s why you stabbed your
    mommy then?” the psychiatrist asked him.

    “Yes,” he said.

    “The knife is more important
    to you than mommy?”

    “The knife listens. Mommy doesn’t.”

  • 14 cigarettes

    9 September 2019 by

    This girl smoked 14 cigarettes in
    a span of one and a half hours

    “Yeah, but they’re slim,” she says

    “But they’re still fourteen.”

    “Yeah, but so am I,” she says.

    “But… you look at least eighteen…”

    “I know. Smoking helps, doesn’t it?”


    “Say, you wanna go to sum’ club right now?”

    “Oh, sorry but, it’s Saturday and… You know, there’s
    church tomorrow morning. I’ve to be up.
    How about you come with me though? And
    my grandma.”

    She laughed
    Lit another cigarette.

  • Bogdan Dragos

    5 September 2019 by

    Originally posted on Horror Sleaze Trash:
    the thing before the thing before the thing because it’s nice to be young because it’s nice to be in your early to mid twenties and it’s nice to do the thing after you’ve done the thing the thing that comes after you’ve done the thing is always the…

  • Mr. Tap-Tap

    4 September 2019 by

    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
    pedo mustache
    scrawny body
    always wearing dark suits, a bit oversized

    He sat at his desk and watched the
    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
    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

    went his foot
    as the girls talked

    “I heard he’s divorced,” said one of the students.

    “Yep,” said another. “He is. Has a kid as well.”


    “I heard he’s also got a brother in prison
    for rape or some shit.”

    and a few weeks later
    they were talking about books
    related to prison life
    and someone said, “You know how
    prisoners jack off in full view of guards and
    the female prison nurses without getting caught?”

    nobody asked how but he went to
    say it anyway and he said “They wrap a
    string around their penis
    and tie the other end to the big
    toe of one foot.
    All beneath the pants. Nothing shown.
    And when the female is close
    they stare
    and move that foot and the string does
    the job…”


  • I always listen

    1 September 2019 by

    He was older than me
    by a good eight years

    he felt worthy to give me life

    I agreed.
    It’s my personal rule. Never turn away
    from a tale. Listen to anything
    and everyone when they’re willing to share.
    Following the advice is another
    but listening to it I shall.

    And I did
    all ears

    and he told me
    “Never overdose on solitude, my boy. Never
    overdose on solitude.
    You might think it’s cool and all
    to play the lone wolf character
    and all that
    but a time will come when you will
    regret this deeply, oh so, so deeply.
    You will regret it to suicide and beyond.
    And the regret will set in gradually
    with old age.
    It always does.
    When I was like you, in my twenties, I hated
    the world and loved
    spending time
    with myself. It’s all I did
    for so many years.
    And look at me now…”

    “You don’t look too bad,” I told him.

    His smile was sad. “My boy, I’m ‘bout to
    hang myself tonight, after this beer,
    in my lonely room, with a power cord I fixed
    to the ceiling. My most productive deed
    in the past two years.”

    I raised my beer. “Cheers.”

    He didn’t hang himself that night.
    Just got very drunk and
    passed out on his dirty bed. It wasn’t
    the first time he threatened to do it.
    I knew he wouldn’t do it.

    As long as I listen to his stories
    he won’t do it

    And I always listen.

  • Not too many horizons

    29 August 2019 by

    Not too many horizons
    when you live in a small home
    with small windows
    and thick blinders
    and only face the smoky ceiling
    as you sit sprawled on the bed,
    bottle in hand, more empty than full,
    cigarette between fingers, more ashes
    than light.
    Work starts only the day after tomorrow
    so there is nothing to do now
    just like there won’t be much to do then

    He’s not alone in this,
    this young man
    He thinks now of past lovers
    and it’s like God delivers a gift all of a sudden

    There’s a knock on the door
    he stands
    about to vomit
    and finds his way to the door

    It’s been… What, a year already?
    The woman holds a child in her arms
    and tells him it’s his.
    The same whore who ran away with the little
    money he had about a year ago,
    just after they’ve done it and got wasted on the
    same bed he rose from.

    Thank you, God
    It’s, you know, just what the
    hell I needed.

  • lewd drawings

    28 August 2019 by

    The day she realized she hated her
    brother was the day she went into his

    until then she loved him,
    everyone loved him
    He was the family’s artist, the prodigy
    and he was damn good
    and had some career ahead of him

    “A rare talent,” the
    teachers said

    And sure the teachers were right
    but they didn’t know about the
    prodigy’s secret stash of
    lewd drawings featuring his little
    sister and even his mother

    they were skillfully laid across A4
    pages divided in panels and some
    even had speech bubbles and
    what was written in those speech bubbles
    made her burst out of the cursed room
    and run into hers screaming
    “Sick fuck sick fuck sick fuck fuck!”

    The family dinner was never the

    nothing was the same

    And why she kept the secret,
    she didn’t know

  • Out of Work Philosophers

    27 August 2019 by

    Sadly enough there are philosophers in this world
    who have no questions to answer and
    nothing to theorize about
    All the thought provoking practices
    have apparently been consumed, have
    been done into extinction, devoured and
    digested and shat
    It is over
    Humanity has no mysteries left
    for the mysteries have no humanity
    and are therefore heartless and soulless
    and a waste of time

    There is nothing left to discover
    The world is a big play but all the
    characters and all the scenes and all the
    settings and the interactions have been
    discovered as to ultimately rob us of the
    sense of journey

    Now it’s like we just exist here
    Perhaps to worship those who existed
    before us and discovered all things for us
    To stand in their shadow and bask
    in the knowing that we will never create a
    new poem or a new novel anymore than we
    will design a never before seen color

    Only that which I have never seen before
    might qualify as new, and only to me, for
    the concept of new can never be universal

    And the more new things I see, the less
    new things I see
    and the less value they bear
    Old people will agree to this
    And the rest, they will grow old one day
    When the senses will wear out and the
    ear will know that music is made
    out by the same
    and the eye will know that
    all the colors are the same colors
    mixed differently

    Ultimately the mind will understand that
    all ideas are the same idea told
    and heard differently
    and passed along differently

    And the idea says that happiness
    starts with being and ends
    with thinking

    or perhaps this is only how I think of it
    or how you hear it

View all posts

Get new content delivered directly to your inbox.

4 thoughts on “DR Bogdan

Add yours

  1. Hope things are cool and hot DR., I’m a bit curious, I was looking over your work, and wonder if you do any strip writing ? I ‘m working on a book that will be a finish play. I don’t want it to get to much graphic dialog but need the iron words to push these concepts. Any suggestions. Like instead of B, or F, MF, I thought Bush Wet, Funk n Fish, Mold Food, well if you get a minute, Thanks.


Leave a Reply to Melba Christie at Poemattic Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

Create your website at WordPress.com
Get started
%d bloggers like this: