Tag: creativity

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
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The Muse’s Bad Touch

42

Hunger by Bogdan Dragos

j re crivello's avatarGobblers by Masticadores

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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16

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.
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My other ebook for FREE

90

cave of forgotten gods

all right,
that sounded like good advice

Put your room in order first
and then your thoughts

Sure

He started looking around the room
for things that were
to be thrown and things that were
misplaced

There were a few

There was a broken snowboard
on his bed
It had the image of a naked girl
painted along

he slept with it at night
and would often find himself placing
his lips over hers
and licking at her slim, long neck

She had to go
It was time to get rid of her
and break out of this
ridiculous lifestyle

He grabbed it
Looked at the girl for a good minute
and decided to place the snowboard
under his bed

He knelt
by the side of the bed and looked
under

Alas, she had no room in there

There was the forgotten cave of
dead gods
he no longer thought about
And it was full

There were body pillows with
brown stains
Hardened socks
Doll heads
A teddy bear with a hole carved between
the legs
A drinking glass stuffed with
dishwashing sponges wrapped in plastic bags
Magazines with crumpled pages
Pictures printed on A4 paper
Sealed jars that contained small figurines
covered by a thick, brown substance
like melted wax

Those were the gods of nights
long past
They had their share of his worshiping
and had been abandoned
to rot away

There was simply no more room
for the present god
to be disposed of

“Funny,” he said
looking at her from above. “It's like
all the ones who came before you
had passed down their blessings
onto you. I… I am sorry I tried to get
rid of you, love. I’m such a fool! Don’t
strike me down, please. I’ll… I can only
try to make up for it.”

He placed the snowboard back on
the bed and
ripped two pieces from a paper towel
and placed them over the middle
of the snowboard
where the painted girl’s nakedness was exposed

He pulled his pants down
and mounted her

Rubbed his penis against the
paper towels
and showered the girl’s face with
kisses
while apologizing and shedding tears
for wronging her so much

By the time he came he
felt forgiven
and cleaned the stains that made it past
the papers with his mouth
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14

Failing Forward by Bogdan Dragos

j re crivello's avatarGobblers by Masticadores

Mafalda by Quino

in high school he repeatedly told her that he was saving himself for marriage and eventually she left him alone but after graduation she approached him yet again and this time he told her that he was focusing on his career as a writer they both had their dreams and they kept dreaming and fighting to accomplish them, insisting and getting up from every defeat failing forward as some would say It took decades but eventually both of their dreams came true they were married and he still hadn’t struck a deal with any publisher but made a relatively okay income self-publishing he wrote for a very narrow niche very trashy erotic fiction and his lovely wife helped him with inspiration and research “C’mon,” he urged her, “moan a bit harder, cry some too.” she did as she was told as he went around her with the…

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11

sometimes I think I’m just too good for you by Bogdan Dragos

He jumped off the building and the metallic wings carried him high towards the clouds where others like him swam in absolute bliss but then something hit his head and he woke up turned around in bed and realized there was blood trickling from his eyebrow The girl besides him was holding a stapler in […]

sometimes I think I’m just too good for you by Bogdan Dragos
12

a dead body in the room

there was a dead body in the room

Had to be

Else where did the smell
come from?

Every time he’d turn around to catch
a ghost or a zombie
from the corner of his eyes the smell
would slap him

A smell of death

He decided he’d look around for the
dead body
but later

He didn’t have the energy now
or the disposition
or anything

He only wanted to sleep
some more
He just woke up and needed a good
nap to recover

Perhaps there were times when it
didn’t make sense
but now, today, nothing made more
sense that this

All you need is a healthy
dose of chronic depression and it makes
sense

Just like not cleaning the room
and not taking a shower
in a time longer than memory can be
bothered to remember

So he paced back to the bed
and climbed in
and dragged the blanket, heavy with
caked dirt, on his body
and closed his eyes

He fell asleep in spite of
the smell of death
coming closer still

The dreams were always a little bit better
in the nap taken after
waking up from
the night’s sleep

One time he even dreamed he
was a published author. Not a great or
even a good one, but published
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16

childhood’s villain

Father used his fists
a lot
Though never on the kids

On the walls
and the furniture
and the doors
and the mailbox
and the fence
and the neighbors
and random people on the street
and strangers in the bar
and a few times the poor dog
and one time on mother

He was the childhood’s
villain

To defeat him one had
to become a hero

and becoming a hero
took time

And today
after all this time
the villain of childhood
was dead

He died at the hands of
some other character,
a neutral one

A cop who told him to
drop to the ground
and father didn’t
so he got shot

That was it
The end of his saga

Utterly unsatisfactory
anticlimactic
disappointing
just bad

There was no final showdown
between hero and villain

because those things
only happen in
childhood
and childhood had ended a
long time ago
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171

open casket funeral by Bogdan Dragos

j re crivello's avatarGobblers by Masticadores

what would be the reason to have an open casket funeral? Why should the living see the dead? He addressed the questions to no one in particular but his dead wife answered from the picture on the wall "Don't you wanna see me, darling?" "Not like that, I don't," he said. "That's why I have your portrait. So I don't have to look at your dead body in the casket. But your mom wouldn't understand..." "Darling, I think you're the one who doesn't understand. And I think it's time we talk about your therapist." "What about my therapist?" "You tell me. You tell me why did she have to tell you that she's single now and looking to settle. I thought she was supposed to help you cope with the premature death of your wife, not tell you her problems." "Dear, please..." "And one more thing. I don't like the…

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2

too late is too late

Wherever you hear about a drinking
problem
you expect the man to be
violent and vulgar and turn abusive
and destructive

well
it wasn’t the case with him

There was a drinking problem there
for sure
but all it cursed him with
was sleep and sometimes
verses

He’d start writing after
drinking

But he was a kind man and a great
lover
and his wife had a hard time
convincing her family and friends
and neighbors
that a man who has a separate trashcan
only for bottles and beer cans
is not a man who strikes his wife,
not even with words

Well, none of
them read his poetry

and by the time he died of
cirrhosis it was
too late

You can’t scold a dead man for
having written thousands upon thousands
of pages of
splatter-punk gore and abuse fantasies
involving his wife
her family
her friends
neighbors
and everyone he knew, including minors
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98

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