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In my mind
I’ve slept with so many men
My fingers have felt my own texture so many times
My belly has felt so many *******
That maybe feeling so much
Has made me feel nothing at all
Kai Aug 9
Eve
I have oil rigs beneath my skin
Machines drill behind my bones
My body is my sin
By power it is owned

No man could ever comprehend
The pain of simply being,
Only my heart can be my end
Behind the skin you’re seeing

Morsels of my past and present
Tangled
In mangled
Intestine.
That’s right where you'd want to be;
Deep inside
The dark machine.

To conquer me is to fulfill your need,
And feed your shameful lust.

My ending lies in your hands,
Take advantage of my
Fruitful land.
I'm in college!
Порно каналы спускаем в краны,
Порно моделей обратно в тоннели,
Руки помоем, в урну постели,
Ах, нихуя себе мы ахуели!
И за работу — сносим метелью,
Прем, ослепляем, как фотомодели,
Маршем на подиум Жизни с похмелья,
Ну, и Лехаим за достиженья!

Yaroslav Kulikovsky. Kiev, 2019 (c).
Part of the cycle: Poems on City Flesh and Power.

👉 tiktok.com/@kulikovskyonthepunchline
👉 youtube.com/@KulikovskyOnThePunchline/shorts
This poem captures the shift from pornographic noise to the clarity of action. It’s a hymn to the morning reboot: flushing the channels, washing hands, stepping out into the world to get things done. It affirms the absolute right to be the hero of your own hangover. Value: Self-realization — not of an idealized self, but of a lived one, with both dirt and glory intertwined.
Короли снимали на видео
Свои пиздаватые оргии
И вручали за лучшие кадры
Премию «Соскар» в ответ.
Победила графиня Изаура
За фильм «Даная на выезде»,
А Белла Роза Спортзадовна
Вручила ей в Жизнь партбилет.

Yaroslav Kulikovsky. Kiev, 2018 (c).
Part of the cycle: Poems on City Flesh and Power

👉 tiktok.com/@kulikovskyonthepunchline
👉 youtube.com/@KulikovskyOnThePunchline/shorts
This poem is about the power of art and the right to recognition. In a world where cameras capture everything, anyone can become the director of their own story. The protagonists are women who receive awards not for playing a role, but for the strength to be themselves. It’s a poetic triumph of self-realization — through the body, the frame, the act.
♠️ Друг другу дрочили мальчики,
Девоньки мыли уши,
И по трубам водоканальчика,
Согревались в зимнюю стужу.
Стекались к морю, дурачились,
По столу стучали стаканчики,
Вот это мы расхуячились,
ЕбАные барабанщики.

Yaroslav Kulikovsky. Kiev, 2019 (c).
Part of the cycle: Poems on City Flesh and Power

👉 tiktok.com/@kulikovskyonthepunchline
👉 youtube.com/@KulikovskyOnThePunchline/shorts
A poem about youth without shame, bodies without borders, and friendship beyond labels. Boys, girls, music, flesh, and freedom — all mixed in a drunken, joyful Godardian comedy. This is an LGBT space where intimacy needs no justification, and everyone can simply be. There’s lightness, warmth, and the right to play.
Бета-версия дрочер-принцессы,
Была предсказуемо пресной —
Cтеклянный мозг из пластика,
Но, ты так прекрасна и тесна.
«Так трахаться будем иль трахатся?» —
Cпросил тебя твой мужчина.
«А может быть просто трахатса?» —
Ебучая чертовщина!

Yaroslav Kulikovsky. Vienna, 2022 (c).
Part of the cycle: Poems on City Flesh and Power

👉 tiktok.com/@kulikovskyonthepunchline
👉 youtube.com/@KulikovskyOnThePunchline/shorts
A parody poem about the aesthetics of plastic sexuality in the digital age. The focus isn’t on “feelings” or “morality,” but on interfaces of pleasure. The play with language becomes a metaphor for control over body and speech.
Wages of sin?
Silence is my fantasy
A rages rainbow, to thence
A place for liberty, a peace for many...

****** mores
The pleasing said
The pleasant at form
Pious to a fault, I lead:

A promise of heaven
Through the eyes of hell
Clever as sake, I imagine an earthen
Smile, worth a quiet stare, a swallow's bell...

Awe and savior faire...
Lucre in a finer love
The opus we devote, is your stare
And if I am not mistaken, a misery's us...

The might of a they
When suppose, is superiority
Am I a world, for a simple may?
Come for themselves, is our liberty a wiser curiosity?
an apple on the teacher's desk, or a bottle in the drawer ... would you sit at the front of the clash? should whence sit pretty, or fate the **** poetry?
Zywa Jul 14
*** and frustrations

toss and turn behind the fronts --


of neighbourly love.
Collection "Imprints Masks"
Zywa Jul 14
He wanted to romp

with me, that's what he called it --


and I was startled.
Autobiography "In den vreemde - Kronieken" ("In foreign parts - Chronicles", 2024, Frida Vogels), chapter 'Herbert' - May 23rd, 1976, Bologna (about the visit to Herbert Cohen [1931-2016] in Capelle aan den IJssel on Sunday, May 16th, 1976)

Collection "Trench Walking"
Zywa Jul 13
Private brainstorming,

a smashing serious clash:


puberty chaos.
Animated film "Inside Out 2" (2024)

Collection "It takes a lot of tries to make a début"
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