no closer intimacy than this
Yes, there's intimacy
and then there's the times you
get naked and drunk
and cuddle in bed
and tell each other things you'd never
tell sober
“Last time I got so drunk,” she
said, “I got my hands on
a poster with
a missing child and called the
number
and got under the blanket with
the phone,
started crying and said,
'Daddy, daddy, I miss youuu!”
It fucked up the guy who answered
the phone but... my crying
was genuine.
I really felt everything I've said.”
He just laughed
and hugged
her tighter
There would be no closer intimacy
than this
***
INSTAGRAM:
https://www.instagram.com/bogdan_1_dragos/
have you gone completely mad?
of course,
it's not easy
If it were easy
everybody would've done it
But this... this required courage
above all. It required guts. It
required an overdose of
nonconforming
And today was the day
that proved he was just the right man
for it
Often
the right man is the insane man,
the soul who dares to
be the revolutionary who goes against
the system
Dammit, everything was in
place. The cards were dealt and all bets
placed. The muse was
caged and ready
to be milked
"Here I go," he said, ignoring the knocks
and the shouts coming from
beyond the sturdy door
of his office
The nonbelievers were trying to
reach out to him
fools without vision
like his mother and his wife
and mother-in-law
and the children
Oh, they demanded to know for what reason
did he suddenly decide to
quit his high-paying job at the law firm
to start a career as a writer
what fools
"Darling, what about the mortgage?"
"What about your retirement funds, you idiot?"
"What about the kids' college debt?"
"Have you gone completely mad, for
Christ's sake?"
Yes. Yes, I have.
One has to be mad to write. But still,
no matter how mad a writer is,
he still doesn't hold
a candle to the nine to five
salary man, does he?
***
INSTAGRAM:
https://www.instagram.com/bogdan_1_dragos/
AUDIO READING:
https://soundcloud.com/user-937736610/have-you-gone-completely-mad
there is only love
She doesn't want to see
people
on the weekend
only her
cat
She gets drunk by herself
and then rummages through
her books
and reads the last pages
of several romance novels
and starts crying
When she cries
she holds the
cat's head like
a goblet
and clasps its ears with
her lips
and sucks on them,
making the poor
animal uncomfortable
And if the cat
runs away
she gets really sad
She writes positive
affirmations on
pieces of paper she
rips from
books
GOD IS MY SUPPLY OF LOVE
IN GOD'S NAME, I AM LOVE
THERE IS ONLY LOVE
LOVING ITSELF
AND THAT'S ALL THERE IS
then she eats the
papers
or crumples and
shoves them
deep between her
legs,
strengthening her faith
in the power of
the word
eventually she
falls asleep
and dreams of an
umbilical cord floating
through space,
seeking to wrap itself
around a planet shaped as
a baby's head,
wanting to strangle, to
crush it
but it never
succeeds
Eventually she awakens
and starts
writing poems
***
INSTAGRAM:
https://www.instagram.com/bogdan_1_dragos/
soul cells
I can see it
clearly
even though the napkin is
folded and crumpled
around the small things
it covers,
I can see on it
a drawing of a dragon
with flowers for horns
it pokes its
forked tongue at me
and winks
also its eyes
have long lashes
“You listening?” she says
shaking the
fist that holds the
napkin
I can no longer see
the dragon drawn
on it
“What?”
I say
She proceeds to open the
napkin and
reveals a few small, white
pills.
“Forget what they taught
you in school. Despite
all they said,
the nerve cells of the brain
can actually be regenerated.
It's been proven.
An' you can do it
with these here beauties.
C'mon, take one.”
“What?” I said. “I didn't
know my nerve cells
are damaged.”
“That's because your
nerve cells
are damaged,” she said
“Damn...”
“No, seriously. They have to
be. It's because you
spent so many nights
awake. That shit
kills neurons more than smoking,
drinking, and hard drugs
combined. You
probably have just
a handful left.”
“Damn...”
And she asked, “What's
47x6?”
“I don't know.”
“What did I ask you
two questions ago?”
“Shit, I can't remember.”
“Do you even care?”
“Nope. Not really.”
“Your brain's a graveyard
of neurons, boy.”
“Is it really that bad?”
“D'you still write?”
“Yeah.”
“Then it's really that
bad.
Take one of those
pills. Here.”
She grabbed one with her
fingers yellowed
from cigarette smoke
and handed it to me
Perhaps the fact that I
took it proves
I've not that many
brain cells left. I don't
know.
I don't know why
they're so
important in the first
place
Honestly,
at this point all I'm
worried about
is losing soul cells
Now that would
be a tragedy
But the wink of the drawn
dragon from
the napkin
proved I wasn't quite
there yet
Thank God
***
INSTAGRAM:
https://www.instagram.com/bogdan_1_dragos/
THIS POEM READ IN MY VOICE:
https://soundcloud.com/user-937736610/soul-cells
to bring the big dream closer
everywhere you go
it's the same
all the big shots,
the people who made it,
athletes,
entrepreneurs, artists,
and so on
they all tell you
to dream big, to set high
goals and then
trust the infinite intelligence
of the universe
while you just do your
part of the work
he thought he was
surely not
the only one who
tired of it
but he applied the methods
"When I was young and
poor," said one
of the big shots
on TV, "I used to walk into
the most expensive
stores in the city
and I would try out the most
expensive clothes. I would
take them into
the fitting rooms
and put them on
and just look at myself in
the big mirror, trying to
capture that feeling
of already having what
I desired. Trying to see
myself actually
owning those
fancy things."
It was excellent advice
He followed it. Only
he didn't just
try out the
expensive clothes. He added
a twist of his own
into the mix.
"I'm too intelligent to be
able to fool myself," he
said to himself
in the mirror
in the fitting room. "I can't
cause my mind to
believe that I actually
own these clothes. I get the
thought, but not
the feeling. The only way I
can also feel what I think
is if I do something to
my body as well."
So he did it
Took his penis out
and started rubbing it there
in the fitting room
while wearing the
super expensive clothes. Now
he was the CEO having
sex with a super model
There was both
thought and
feeling involved
The manifestation was
surely just
a step away. It was coming
just like he
was coming
inside the expensive
pants
He then took them off
and put them
back on the
shelf
and walked out,
feeling like he accomplished
something
The big
dream
was closer to reality
than ever before
***
MY IG:
https://www.instagram.com/bogdan_1_dragos/
THIS POEM READ IN MY VOICE:
https://soundcloud.com/user-937736610/to-bring-the-big-dream-closer
How long..
How many years do I have to live
without regular utilities like
natural gas back on for heating,
or having the water turned off for days at a time because he “ forgot” to pay the bills.
How long do I have to live with substandard living conditions?
I honestly don’t know how to get out of this. I have no source of income,
my family all have their own lives and homes and are not willing to take me in. I think I’m worthless since I can’t contribute financially.
I have an active application for disability that is ongoing and I’m waiting for that.
I just feel so lost and crazy!
I can tell my depression is worse,
I feel like I’m in Hell!
Mirage Kingdom
Fallin', tripping, and flying,
Trying to get a grip on reality,
As you fall into a swirling blue portal
The mind starts spiralling,
As flowers engulf your vision
Sensation hits your body like water,
Tapping the beach on the shoulder
Not an utterance of discontentment,
Just crashing into nirvana
Then the ground appears
As if it was always there,
Your vision clears but there's a filter,
Like you are dreaming,
Seeing turquoise fields and every species of tree,
As you walk around slowly,
Touching and breathing in everything
Fruits don't have any bruises,
The snapdragons smell delicious
Your senses are hazy but still working,
It occurs to you that this is like Eden,
But a tad different,
There's an artificial element,
You are here but you don't exist
A mirage, a faultless illusion,
Kingdoms built from delusion,
Of a perfect experience,
An idea plucked from your head,
Plop! An orange falls onto you,
Breaking the rumination,
Whilst you let paradise consume your existence,
Stepping away as you let go of your suspicion,
Your body lays on the ground
Broken beneath the apple tree of an orchard
Forever sleeping, living in a dreamland.
Red Arches
Red, red, are the arches,
That she steps through,
That she gives her heart to
That she decides to use,
Because power is her only muse,
And she wants that man,
Regardless of what she stands to lose
Hands soaked in blood, golden antlers on her head,
Perfect skin, and body,
She is a siren mixed with a goddesss
Jealousy bubbling like the champagne in her glass,
Watching them laugh,
Whilst strangers are talking to her,
Brown noise, why are they here?
Fake laugh, why is she here?
Vapid flirting, why am I here?
Shoving the beverage into a free hand,
Strolling towards them putting on a smile,
For hours she puts on the charm,
To lure him into her influence
But each attempt doesn't work,
As he babbles about her,
His angelic partner,
She's left smelling like desperation,
As his girlfriend grabs him again,
He turns into a willing victim,
As he follows her out of the apartment
That night she stands in a pile of broken mirrors,
Screaming about how it didn't work,
Cursing out the arches she stepped through,
Trying to steal someone else's boyfriend,
Beauty and wealth doesn't mean anything,
Her soul is gone, all that remains is a pretty surface,
As her love sours into hatred.