he’s all over the place

he’s all over the place by Bogdan Dragos

Something wasn’t right
about him

I mean,
the guy was way too rich
and privileged
to have missing teeth

yet his mouth
opened like some rusty dungeon
gate

Every time they tried
to fix his teeth
he’d break them again

intentionally

with the claw of
a hammer
or with a rock when a hammer
wasn’t available

What a lad

He kept all those
rotten vegetables and fruits
and meats under his bed
and in drawers
just to feel the smell of
death
about him

Death was everything
to him

His god

His world

So it’s small wonder that
he eventually
met his idol
or rather
gave himself to it

at age 22
he weighed no more
than a 12 year old
but had the wisdom of
a 62 year old who’d made it
in life

and that’s apparently where
the problem lies

when the mind knows too
much about too many things
it grows interested only
in the supreme thing

Death

and eventually the
body follows

“Dying in a dream is
always followed by
waking up,” he used to say. “For the
mind doesn’t know
what to render in the dream
afterwards and crashes. The dream
ends. Whether it’s a dream or
a nightmare.
Death is the way out.”

He got out, alright.

First out the window
and then

as his body hit the pavement
below

out of this dream

In this moment
he is all over the place

in my writings
first
and in the reader’s mind
second

But it should be fine
since I did not
share his name, right?

Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "he’s all over the place"!

Check it out HERE!

https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B09C46RMPS/allbooks?ingress=0&visitId=96628550-28a0-4f19-9a78-7717f0614bbd&ref_=ap_rdr

Thank you!

4 June 2026 1

a fingernail

a fingernail by Bogdan Dragos

he started
late in life

somewhere in
his early fifties
if I recall

and in just a few
very short years he
became
the inspiration and the
motivation for all
things associated with
late blooming

He sure proved to the
world that it’s never
too late for
dreams

“But what made you start?”
I once asked him

and he said, “a fingernail.”

Clearly he wanted me to ask,
‘A fingernail!? Oh my God,
what in heavens do you
actually mean by that, sir?’

but I kept silent

just watched him

and then he
went on

“Yeah. One day
at the age of fifty-three
I just found this
broken fingernail
lying on the floor of my
bedroom. I’ve never even
spoken to a woman in well
over ten years, let alone inviting
one over. Hahah!
So you can imagine my shock
as I observed that broken
fingernail just lying around on
the floor.
Fear was obviously the first,
most primal feeling that
inundated my soul.
And I was right to fear.
For I was indeed stalked
and about to be possessed.
And that, my friend, is how I met
my muse.
It wasn’t some apparition
coming and looking for
her broken fingernail. No. It was
all my fear and morbid curiosity
that brought her into my life,
summoned her
if you will. The mind conjured her
up and
as I started writing about
her, about the event of finding
that fingernail
on my bedroom floor, our
relationship caught
outlines.
But one thing I do know
and that is that
it’s different for every writer.
Your muse might not come to
you in the form mine did,
but don’t give up. Keep
looking, my friend.
And one day, one night, you might
just be surprised by
what you’ll find.”

I thanked him for the
advice and went
home and got drunk

“You wanna write about it
sometime?” she
asked

“Sometime,” I said. “Sure. But not
today.
Today let’s just get drunk and
feel shit and
sit in silence.”

We really
did that
all night

and on the next day
we started writing again

Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "a fingernail"!

Check it out HERE!

Thank you!

29 May 2026 1

all he has is what the rest of us are missing

all he has is what the rest of us are missing by Bogdan Dragos

he sleeps outside
in the grass
or on some park bench

does absolutely nothing
all day

not a thing
other than
existing and breathing
and sitting in silence

If he gets anything to eat
from the mercy of others
he’s grateful
and if not
he’s also grateful

he has no complaints

no family
no friends
no possessions
no wishes
nothing to strive for
nothing to accomplish
nothing to do

all he has is
what the rest of us
are missing

perfect
awareness of the
present moment

bliss

God

Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "all he has is what the rest of us are missing"!

Check it out HERE!

Thank you!

23 April 2026 1

be alive in the present moment

be alive in the present moment by Bogdan Dragos

I don't know how many friendships
are forged by
divine intervention

all I know is
that theirs was
definitely one of 'em

I don't even know what
breed that dog
was

It was one of the big, heavy
ones

and it walked in front of the
old guy
without a leash or anything

And the old guy would
call the dog Bo

Bo would turn away the
scoundrels who'd try to
steal the old man's money
and the old man would use
some of that money to buy
Bo some food

Life in the streets was a jungle
for sure

yet somehow very few of those
who were living it
were seeking to escape it

They must know something

"All I know is how to
be alive in the present
moment," said the old man.
"And the rest is details."

Damn...
I couldn't agree more

Neither could Bo

Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "be alive in the present moment"!

Check it out HERE!

Thank you!

16 April 2026 11

too dumb to get it?

too dumb to get it? by Bogdan Dragos

the TV was blaring political
crap again
somewhere in the background

always the same fear
inducing story

but she didn't need
the political turmoil in the
country and the world at large
to make her feel afraid

She looked at
Leonardo, her turtle
through the glass of the tank

"Soon enough we'll be evicted.
I've seen homeless people
with dogs and cats and even
birds, but never
a turtle. What the hell am I gonna
do with you, Leo?"

Perched on top of its wet
rock, the turtle
looked at her and not at
her at the same time

There was no fear, no anxiety,
no trouble in its eyes

it simply existed

was alive

It just was

"You're just too dumb
to get it," she said

got up
and went in the other room
to turn off the TV

"You're just too dumb
to get it," she said to her
own reflection in the
black mirror of the TV screen

Right

now back to playing the
electric guitar
in her empty room

lying in bed

drinking the cheapest
whiskey

attempting to play with
herself and failing
because of depression

giving up

drinking some more

eventually falling asleep

One time Leonardo showed up
into her dream
as a guitar with a turtle's
carapace
and it said to her, "Too dumb
to get it?
Hah! Says she who can't even
live in the
now
and constantly tries to
be someone else somewhere else
in another time.
Dumbest shit anyone can do, really."

If only she could've
remembered
that dream

Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "too dumb to get it?"!

Check it out HERE!

Thank you!

9 April 2026 12

don’t have much of an alternative

don’t have much of an alternative by Bogdan Dragos

"I was raised in a strict
Christian home," he said
as he poured
another glass of whiskey.
"That's why I turned atheist
right after
I left to be
on my own."

"At 18?" I asked

"Nope. At 24."

I liked the guy. He was somewhere in
his late fifties
looking forward to pensioning

worked as janitor
in an office building

and the reason they all
called him crazy was that
he swore
he saw someone in the
women's bathroom
right after closing time
as he went to clean

A female figure standing by
the mirror

she must've been real, he said,
because her presence activated
the sensor lights
in the room

It was a story I've heard
dozens of times

And I don't care how real it is

I believe him
because I want to

I want the story to be
real

Had he not
had a story like that to share
we wouldn't have been
friends today

"Wanna hear my advice?" I
asked him.
And without him saying anything
I went on. "Don't quit.
This job... is perfect. Trust me."

"I don't have much of an
alternative," he said

"Me neither," I said

Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "don’t have much of an alternative"!

Check it out HERE!

Thank you!

2 April 2026 1

he who conquers lust

he who conquers lust by Bogdan Dragos

He who conquers lust
will conquer
anything else

Man, what powerful words
and what a powerful time
to remember them, think
about them, reflect

It was 11:30 PM
Closing time at the
grocery store

Few jobs are more suitable
for 58-year-olds with no
education than security guard

or that’s what he
used to think

It gives one the possibility to
be alone while still
being surrounded by people

definitely easier than being
at the cash registers

the cash registers were
hell itself

He avoided even thinking about it

so instead he
thought about the
words
"He who conquers lust
will conquer anything else."

words spoken by a teacher
back in the day when the problem of
lust was just
beginning to bud out.
Seventh grade that was. What
a time

At 58 it’s infinitely easier
to defeat lust
than at 14

but he could stand proud
for he’d done it at
14 also

Lust has been conquered back
then just as it was
conquered now
and…
what about the second part of
the saying?

He who conquers lust will conquer
anything else
now where was that
‘anything else’?

Shit…

Outside
in the parking lot
a man said to his kid,
"I said you could get anything,
but not everything."

Fools
both of them

the store had just
closed

Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "he who conquers lust"!

Check it out HERE!

Thank you!

26 March 2026 2

it’s no coin

it’s no coin by bogdan Dragos

coming out of the store
with a
sliced bread and a
small pack of salty crackers
he spots something on
the ground

round
and shiny
under the lamplight

He squats to pick it up
and all enthusiasm
leaves his being

It’s no coin

just bird droppings
in the form of one

He stands
turns around
walks back into the store

and comes out
a bit later
without the sliced bread
and the pack of crackers
but
with a six-pack of beer

We’d all
probably do precisely
the same

Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "it's no coin"!

Check it out HERE!

Thank you!

5 March 2026 2

or is it just luck?

or is it just luck? by Bogdan Dragos

I don't think this is the
worst type but
it's certainly up there

the type that only contacts you
when they need something
from you

such as
to borrow money
or to sell you some
pyramid scheme shit

And it's funny to think that he
was by far the
richest guy in our group

at 23 he already had two apartments
One to live in
and one to rent out
and a pretty decent car

now all he's got is the car

He sleeps in it

and calls from time to time
and asks
"Hey, you ain't got no
girlfriend, right?"

It's not a way for him to flex
or anything

it's just his way of asking
whether or not you'd like to
spend some time
with his girlfriend

for a little
sum
of course

Yes, it has come to this

It's probably the destiny of
all hardcore
gamblers

have wealth
gamble
win or lose
gamble again until
you eventually lose
borrow money
lose the money
borrow again
win some
but lose some more
and so on

until you end up
asking random people if they'd
like to sleep with your
girlfriend for some money

But I guess the bigger mystery
here
is how in the
hell
is she okay with all that...

Seriously
do girls really have something
for gamblers
or is it just luck?

Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "or is it just luck?"!

Check it out HERE!

Thank you!

26 February 2026 11

Prison Saint

yeah, he had this crazy deep
scar
across the face

not from ear to ear
but rather temple to chin

it was the kind of
scar that’s impossible to
replicate

no fakers and no worshipers
will ever
get that tattooed right
on their faces

He’s got a lot of
followers, admirers
around the prison grounds

they look up to
him
as to a guru of sorts

yet he’s got nothing
to teach

nothing other than pain

self inflicted

On his first night here
he wrestled another inmate
for an iron nail
that was supposed to be used
as weapon or part
of a weapon

only, he didn’t want to use
it to hurt anybody

but himself

Only… he didn’t hurt himself
with it

No, he really just placed the
damn thing on his
left thigh
and hammered it in with
a fist
all the way to the bone

and then smiled
as the rest of
the prisoners watched

Yeah, it was the overwhelming
sense of fulfillment
this man felt with his
deed that
brought the others on their
knees
and convinced them to
worship him

It’s been months since
the incident
and the wound still hasn’t infected

not a damn thing
happened. Like he’s no
real human being
as the rest of us

I guess it’s this transcendence
of humanity that
determines us
all
to watch him as a saint

We bring him
all the metal we can
find or steal
and watch him insert it into
his body
and hold it there
and not get infected

he is truly…
not of this world

He’s a saint

the other day I
brought him the rusty handle
of a spoon
and he did look upon me with his
limpid, dispassionate eyes
as he drove it into his
armpit

Tomorrow then

I will do better than all
my friends
and bring him a real
actual
true knife

It’s gonna be my
day

I’m going to make it

Then the whole
yard will know that I
am in this man’s favor

Prying the knife off
the guard’s
hands
shall be no challenge

by now
they too
are followers of
this saint

Oh, I can’t wait

I’m going
right now

I’m going for
it

Many thanks to Gobblers by Masticadores for featuring my poem, "prison saint"!

Check it out HERE!

Thank you!

30 September 2025 9

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