Many thanks to Gobblers by Masticadores for featuring my poem, "Vodka and gummy bears"!
Also check out some of my poetry books on Amazon --> HERE!
Thank you!
Vodka and gummy bears
bit by bit, little by little
there were times when she bit and
chewed the inside
of her elbow
to spit the bits of flesh
and the blood
on her grandma
but those times were over
almost forgotten
along with the teachings that
her blood is poisoned
because she was conceived with the
wrong woman, meaning
not the one grandmother intended for
her father
But today all those
people were dead. Only father was
alive
He was all right. A hard working
man, busy with life
busy enough not to notice
that his daughter
is constantly sprinkling ashes in
his food and coffee
He’d almost consumed the
contents of
his mother’s urn
there’s just
a bit left
Also check out some of my poetry books on Amazon --> HERE!
Thank you!
«Ain’t nobody out there goin’ through what I went,» he said
Many thanks to Gobblers by Masticadores for featuring my poem, "«Ain’t nobody out there goin’ through what I went,» he said"!
Also check out some of my poetry books on Amazon --> HERE!
Thank you!
Why do grownups go to work?
Many thanks to Gobblers by Masticadores for featuring my poem, "Why do grownups go to work?"!
Also check out some of my poetry books on Amazon --> HERE!
Thank you!
A alege sticla (to choose the bottle)
Many thanks to MASTICADORES ROMANIA for publishing this one!
Check out the English version HERE!
Thank you!
wasted years in a picture
Wasted years
What do they look like?
Can you show in a picture?
He nodded to himself
as he thought
about it
Of course
who other than him to know
what wasted years look like
After 45 years spent inside
a box he was qualified to
judge. And it wasn’t
even prison. It was the office.
Accounting.
45 years
And today...
Today he was the 65-year-old
photographer
who raised the camera before
the mirror and snapped
a selfie
and said
“I am wasted years.”
Also check out some of my poetry books on Amazon --> HERE!
Thank you!
After things fell apart
Many thanks to Gobblers by Masticadores for featuring my poem, "After things fell apart"!
Also check out some of my poetry books on Amazon --> HERE!
Thank you!
just some average guy with an interesting life
quite a few times she had to ask
him why he was
so shy
He thought it was just
normal to be
shy on a first date
no matter how many other dates you've
been on with other girls
He was afraid of getting
too deep into
relationships, mainly because girls didn't
like guys who still lived
with their parents
He lived with his
father
who worked as a butcher
His clothes were always stained by blood
and smelled of salt and iron
but worst of all
was that he
was drunk more often than not
About thirty minutes into
the date his phone
rang and he excused himself to
answer. It was his father
"Listen buddy. I kinda need your
help."
"Dad, I kinda need you to understand that
I can't save your ass every time
you get in trouble thanks
to your drinking. I'm busy
right now."
"Oh? Too busy to help
your old man?"
"Bye."
"No, no, no, wait! Listen. It's just
a simple thing this time. You just have to
tell the police that your
father is a butcher and that the
eyeball they found in his rectum belongs to
a pig and not a human being, okay?"
"Dad, what the fuck?"
"Please!"
He hung up
walked back to the table
sat down
smiled
"Problems?" his date asked.
"No, no. My father asked for
a ride. I told him I can't right now. It's
okay though. Nothing urgent or
important."
"Father, huh? Must be nice having one."
"Oh, you don't…?"
She smiled. "Nevermind that. But anyway,
speaking of fathers, you think you'll
be a good one?"
"Huh?"
"Cuz I surely won't be the best
mother. See, I just found out days ago
that my ex-boyfriend got me
pregnant. You think
you'll be a good daddy?"
"Um… I think my dad's calling
again…"
Also check out some of my poetry books on Amazon --> HERE!
Thank you!
Does it change anything?
Many thanks to Gobblers by Masticadores for featuring my poem, “Does it change anything?“
Also check out some of my poetry books on Amazon --> HERE!
Thank you!
answering the call
he downs the second bottle
of wine
and then curses the
beer for not
tasting as good
the rectangular desk before
him looks round
now
and his chair grows wheels
all the insects in the
apartment
crawl under the
clock on the wall
and spin the hands
backwards
lots of things are happening
but the
story before him doesn’t
write itself
The paper is still pale
the pen
still frozen
The next word will never come
out
let alone the next line
He leans back
and the demon calls from
the other side of the window
and tells him
to hurry up
“That’s not how
writing works,” he whispers back
But he doesn’t
know how
it works anymore
So he just stands
and walks to
the window
opens it
and answers
the call
Also check out some of my poetry books on Amazon --> HERE!
Thank you!
Daydreaming as a profession 