I want to do other things
the chores call me
but each time it’s harder
poetry has tangled me in such a way that
ah…
I just want to keep drinking from it
forever

I thought only in prose
I could be whoever I wanted to be
How mistaken I was—here too!
I can be a thousand and one things
And you? Can you be who you are without art?
I doubt it
But if you show up before me painted in gold
I’ll believe
Yes, I’ll believe
The world is mad

Wholeness
That must be the word
If it’s not, that’s fine
I couldn’t care less
I know what I feel, and I can’t deny it
My verses are not for you
They’re for me
Period.
If you understand, congratulations
If not, I’m sorry
Go find a book—one with over a thousand words
Even better if it’s self-help
I need only a few words to say what I want
My therapy is in the verses
I owe nothing to anyone
Liberating
That could be the word too
Doesn’t matter to me
I simply cross my legs in the hammock
and spot a new world of possibilities
waiting for me

I find it beautiful
Something small, hidden
unknown to anyone, becoming something vast
I think I have a knack for this
The words are flowing
I’m no longer trapped behind a dam
I’m free, thirsty to explore new paths
I will pour myself into other waters
and meet new horizons
I want more—so much more!
I am thirsty
I didn’t know I had been dehydrated for so long
This is what I needed
As a certain author once said—yes, you warned me
I didn’t have to go so far
My treasure wasn’t distant
It was right here
where I belong

I decided to run a test
throw a few words on paper
see what would happen
and I was amazed
by what I found

No
It’s not that I want to be some new, renowned poet or writer
Remembered in the future
When children will hold their schoolbooks
Studying literature
No, God forbid
I just have to throw these things out
All these words suffocating me
I think I have the gift
**** the rules and the standards
I need healing

Пиздастрадал пиздаконтроль —
На стуле Янка Супер-сутер,
На карандаш берет любовь
И загружает темпо в убер.
И дохли розы под наркозом,
И рифмовались к буржуЯм,
Мы ж ебанем салат мимозу
За число Пи и первый лям.

Yaroslav Kulikovsky. Prague, 2020 (c).
Part of the cycle: Poems on City Flesh and Power.

👉 tiktok.com/@kulikovskyonthepunchline
👉 youtube.com/@KulikovskyOnThePunchline/shorts

Кошоладка — вредный враль —
Черный рот и черный юмор,
Мы нашли с тобой Грааль
И гарем за парой рюмок.
Гамарджоба! Здравствуй, мир!
Попрыгунья в зазеркалье
По волнам, горою пир,
Рульгардиной в рыжей спальне.

Yaroslav Kulikovsky. Paris, 2023 (c).
Part of the cycle: Poems on City Flesh and Power.

👉 tiktok.com/@kulikovskyonthepunchline
👉 youtube.com/@KulikovskyOnThePunchline/shorts