Tag: fantasy

possessed

It wasn't looking good at all
the framed picture of Jesus
had cuts all over it
On the face
In the hair
On the hands joined in prayer
And the eyes were crossed out deep
and cut out

why would he
do that?
Why would a five year old do that
to the gift he got from
grandma?
Was the child possessed? Oh, God! Was
the child possessed by the devil?

They took him to church to
find out
and the priest
asked him why did he cut the Jesus
in the framed picture and
the kid said, "I wanted a bike, not a stupid
picture!"

"He is definitely possessed," said the priest
"You'll have to bring him
to church every Thursday and Sunday. And I
will give you further instructions."

Grandma fainted
mother broke down crying

Father got him a bike actually. But mother
and grandma made sure it
won't reach him. Because father left
mother and went
away to live a life of sin with another woman.
All ties had to be cut
with that sinner.
The bike was donated to a foster home where
the nuns pasted a picture of Jesus
on the basket to protect the
rider from accidents
But the first kid who rode it fell off while
climbing a slope and
the bike slid across the asphalt
leaving deep scratches into the face of Jesus
Also check out some of my poetry books on Amazon --> HERE!

Thank you!

2

knight piece

the knight piece of
a chess board
is a sharp thing
because of the horse's pointy ears

This old man came into the ER
with one of those stuck
in his eye
and of course the medics asked how the hell
did it happen

He told them he didn't see with
that eye anyway

"Yes, but still, why did you do it? Why
would you stab the piece
into your eye like that?"

Someone whispered 'dementia'
The patient was in his mid eighties

He told them,
"I just had to get out of that place. Y'all
have anything to drink 'round here?"

The next day an article had been printed
in the local paper
titled
WHY YOU SHOULD NEVER PUT YOUR
OLD PARENTS INTO A NURSING HOME

It was long
and few people read it
Also check out some of my poetry books on Amazon --> HERE!
Thank you!

11

unlovable trash

bogdan dragos 
well
there's plenty of cutesy names to
call one's children
but his was 'unlovable trash'
He remembered it from the time he was in the crib
They held him there
for longer than most parents
held their kids in cribs. Though only dad
called him so
because he constantly claimed he wasn't his

unlovable trash

he had the wrong skin tone
was too pale
with curly orange hair
and freckles

but mom always pretended she didn't
hear
the words
unlovable trash
she would act as if they were never uttered

and growing up
he thought
unlovable trash was a good thing
thought it was how you show love to your loved
ones

"Mom, you’re unlovable trash."

she was so happy to hear it
she burst into tears and went into the
kitchen and uncorked a bottle of wine
and drank it all by herself. What an
unlovable trash she was

Unfortunately
by the time he could pronounce the lovely
words
father was no longer in his life
but father too
was an unlovable trash 
Thank you!

2

I am hell

bogdan dragos 
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

2

INOCENT with a single ‘N’

bogdan dragos 
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
and

BANG!

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
But...

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

MY FAULT
DADDY INOCENT
(with a single 'N')

She went outside holding the cutting board
and knocked on
the neighbor's door. 
Also check out some of my poetry books on Amazon --> HERE!
Thank you!

3

Un rege în castelul său (A king in his castle)

featured magazine literary wiring poem poetry writer reading read published publishing publisher story book feature inspiration
Un rege în castelul său
Many thanks to MASTICADORES ROMANIA for publishing this one! 
Check out the English version HERE!

0

Overthinking

featured magazine literary wiring poem poetry writer reading read published publishing publisher story book feature inspiration
Overthinking
Many thanks to Gobblers by Masticadores for publishing this poem!
2

not too many horizons

bogdan dragos 
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
dizzy
about to vomit
and finds his way to the door
opens

Well.
Hell.
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. 
Also check out some of my poetry books on Amazon --> HERE!
Thank you!

2

lewd drawings

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

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
same

nothing was the same

And why she kept the secret,
she didn't know 
Also check out some of my poetry books on Amazon --> HERE!
Thank you!

0

out of work philosophers

bogdan dragos 
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
Tomorrow
When the senses will wear out and the
ear will know that music is made
out by the same
vibration
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
differently
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 
Also check out some of my poetry books on Amazon --> HERE!
Thank you!

8

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