Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my short story, "Good boy, Kyu"!
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Good boy, Kyu (short story)
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!
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A alege sticla (to choose the bottle)
Many thanks to MASTICADORES ROMANIA for publishing this one!
Check out the English version HERE!
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the boy who ate flowers
He ate flowers.
this mentally challenged boy
from the countryside
I used to watch him
in the fields
when I visited my grandparents
as a kid
He was like an exotic thing
a wild beast chasing
static pray
They had no chance,
the flowers
he would assault them
with a killer’s smile, frothing,
and would grab
and tear and rip them from
the stem and
would eat them
Nobody knew why
and the only explanation given
was that he was insane
then the men and women
who saw him would
scream at him
to stop and he would raise
his head and watch them
like a deer surprised by
headlights
Then he would spit the colorful
froth from his big mouth
and would run home
hopping and leaping like a horse
through the tall grass
He was mostly inoffensive,
this flower eating boy
but they all told me to stay away
from him and would
always chase him away when
he got too close
Time passed and I moved to the
city and went to school there
and stopped visiting the
countryside and its wonders
I got busy
and my busy life drove away the
magic and mystery of childhood
The flower eating boy is now but
a memory
neither good
nor bad
just strange, interesting
He doesn’t eat flowers anymore
because he doesn’t live in the
countryside anymore
No, from what I’ve heard
he’s in some mental facility and it was
his last flowery meal that sent him there
I don’t know,
maybe if they hanged signs with
“Don’t wear flowers in your hair!”
around the village and the fields
that little girl would’ve been saved
and the village would still have its
magic beast.
feeling the train
A pretty thick
slice
of hell
That was life
so far
But today things
will change
Today he was six
years
old and that meant old
enough to
guide his blind father
on the streets
The old man was only
blind for
a year after some work
related accident involving acid
And there was a mother
somewhere too. She left
shortly after
father’s accident
Today father held on
to his son’s shirt
at the shoulder and told him
to walk towards the
railway
“I want to listen to
the train,” said father
but it turned out he
wanted much
more than that. He wanted to
feel the train. Against
his face
So he stood on the rails
and told the kid
to go back home
and return after an hour or so
“Okay,” said the kid. But
he didn’t leave. He watched
from a safe distance
Didn’t even find
the
event particularly disturbing
Then he went back home
and had some
fruit loops with milk
and his first taste of
beer
He had become a
man
(▔▀ ‿ ▀ )ლ ▂▂⌇
Check out my new book filled with dark poetry -- REALITY CHECK
songless bird
a songless bird
that would be the nicest
name she’d been
called
the others,
far more common,
being
that little wench
your bastard kid
the little rat
useless piece of shit that came outta you
and others
She liked the term
songless bird
It was a title worthy of her in
all the good and the
bad ways
The songless bird stands
locked in her room
and knocks and waves in
the window
for she has no voice to sing
She gives silent cries to the
neighbors and
the passersby when the noises
from the other side of
her door
get too violent
or when it smells
of smoke
Which happens
every now
and then
( ＾◡＾)っ ♡ MY SOCIALS!
keeping that spark by Bogdan Dragos
he deliberately chose the nastiest sound for the alarm clock Zeeeehhweeeehhchhh and there it went again Every four hours. Announcing that he had to start the engine again lest he froze to death The phone had 17% battery left. He would need to visit the library again for a recharge but it was becoming increasingly […]
keeping that spark by Bogdan Dragos
“Mother forbade feeding the poor thing” Short Story by Bogdan Dragos
There was a dog outside and it kept barking for some reason. Ah yes, it was chained and the chain was terribly short and the poor animal was hungry.
Mother wouldn’t bother feeding it. No, mother wanted it to die because it had been father’s dog, inherited along with the house after father died. Mother forbade feeding the poor thing.
Her child stood next to the window and listened to the poor thing barking outside. It was better than listening to mother drinking and talking ugly words with her boyfriends.
He opened the window and the dog saw him immediately and barked at him. He wanted to cry. Tried talking to the creature but it wouldn’t listen. It kept barking.
“Mother would cut my hand off if she caught me stealing food for you.”
But he was a smart kid. He leaned over the window and thrust two fingers down…
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Daydreaming as a profession 