like ants crawling up to a dead thing
the days follow
each other
like ants
towards a dead
thing
and after enough of
them pass
by,
you
finally realize you
are that dead thing
And that's supposed to
be alright. After
all, no one is
excused from this
All we can
do is make the journey
pleasant
However,
when the alarm wakes you
up at
6:30 in the morning,
announcing that there's
yet another day
in which you'll have to attend
your duties of
slaving away for others to
get rich,
when you're slipping
into the other
half of your life
not bringing along any
fulfilled dreams
despite trying again and
again...
Another day
in which you'll be assaulted
by questions
like,
"Hey, so when are you
going to get married?"
"Have you even
someone to marry?"
"Why don't you
get another job? Aren't you a bit
too old for this one?"
"How much do
they pay you?"
"Are you ready for your
cousin's wedding?
Oh, and then there's
the wedding of
this other cousin. Wow, lots
of weddings lately. What
about you?"
Slowly,
old friends become
mere acquaintances
and finally
strangers
and you just regret
that family can't
quite follow the same pattern
They say that if you're
the smartest person
in the room
you're in the wrong room
But what do they
have to say
when you're the most
unfulfilled person in
the room?
They'd probably ask
how the fuck
you got like that
You probably don't
even know
anymore
probably don't
care
You just watch
the ants follow
each other
on the trail to the dead thing
and the closer they
get
the more you
urge them
to hurry the fuck up,
stupid creatures
You just wanna give 'em
a hand.
Bring the dead thing
to them
Throw it on
top of them
***
INSTAGRAM:
https://www.instagram.com/bogdan_1_dragos/
AUDIO READING HERE:
https://soundcloud.com/user-937736610/like-ants-crawling-up-to-a-dead-thing
Iterations Of The Scribe
Millions of versions of verses that came before,
In different faces and forms
Athenians, Egyptians, Mayans, Aztecs, and so on
The word of creativity lives through us all,
Us writers: the bastions of literature,
Storytellers of history and the heartbeat of the industry
The words that fall into our minds like stars
An instruction from the universe
Idiots can try to erase us but they will never destroy
the power of honesty and imagination
There will be more incarnations of us
Creating fictional worlds throughout time
The only certainty, in a world of instability,
Is that we are writers, and we will continue our journey
In this life and every other
We create forever,
In the syllables of our words.
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/
My Own Prison
I lay here once again sucked into the vortex that keeps me pinned down in this room.
My mind wanders about offering an array of suggestions for my next move. Only, just as I begin to take action. My mind tosses about yet, another suggestion in effort to distract me from my goal of escaping.
It’s become apparent to me that there was never any good intentions behind these suggestions at all. As this was merely the motive of the malicious vortex’s whole existence.
False hope masked behind maniacal trickery to keep me locked inside. A form of hell really. Forcing me to stay planted exactly where I am; as the life is sucked right out of me.
When I’m finally able to break free from the shackles that bind me. The air becomes easier to breathe and I begin to slowly soften and unfold.
The rigor-mortis state of my body starts to lessen and I begin to bloom. My arms and legs stretch out like the petals of a daisy and my heart opens to greet the morning sun.
Awakening me to the person I was…prior to my involuntary incarceration.
January 2023
Mark 12:9, 12 - Accepting Feedback Over Pride (Bible Journal)
“'What do you suppose the owner of the vineyard will do?' Jesus asked. 'I’ll tell you—he will come and kill those farmers and lease the vineyard to others.' The religious leaders wanted to arrest Jesus because they realized he was telling the story against them—they were the wicked farmers. But they were afraid of the crowd, so they left him and went away (Mark 12:9, 12 NLT)."
Humility, and the ability to accept criticism and learn from it are important life lessons, as both will not only help us grow personally, but will make us better to be around as well. The religious leaders in Jesus' day were given this opportunity to learn from the Lord Himself, and their pride and selfishness promoted them to continue being the evil people they were being taught not to be in the parable. It isn't easy to hear when I'm wrong, but I treasure the opportunity to repent and work on improving, and I am counting on God to help me overcome my own pride that creeps up at times when these chances for personal development come up.
Lord, thank You for teaching me through not only today's example in Scripture, but by calling me out when I fall short as well. Please help me to avoid getting defensive when I hear hard truths about myself, and please help me to use those moments to learn and become a better servant of Yours. In Jesus' name I pray, Amen.
Tocqueville Paradox
Better conditions, higher expectations,
Without realistic ideas,
People flying off of cliffs like lemmings in outrage,
Because their delusion is met with disagreement,
Which turns into a verbal rampage
Like snakes slithering out of their mouths,
To bite anyone who opposes them,
Claiming it is an attack on their identity,
There's no privilege or dignity,
In acting insane to get your way,
No matter how balanced society is,
Clean streets, good schools, vibrant wildflower parks,
It will never be enough,
For those who think that they are entitled to more,
Silver walls, diamond windows, and only daylight,
The discontentment will grow regardless,
No matter how close we get to perfection,
The deluded will always look for problems,
Where there are none.