I was scratching the blackboard with my short nails 

When the pupils started vomiting mint leaves.
_I need an ocean right now! _ he yelled:

_ I need a cow and sparkling water! _ I answered:

We both needed the same thing : relief.
We kicked the pupils out of the classroom,

Sat on the floor, then started crawling.
_This makes me clean! _ he yelled

_ It sets you free! _ I whispered.
It was his first time staring at the blank night sky.

_This is unnecessarily huge! _ he said.

_It’s pretty simple, I guess! _ added.
_Just ride the demons. They’re cute! 


An American

Умом Россию не понять,
Аршином общим не измерить:
У ней особенная стать —
В Россию можно только верить.

Фёдор Тютчев

I’m an American:

Dreamer, sleeping — American,

“Coexist” sticker, confederate flag — American,

Middle East, SoCal — American,

Slave, master wannabe — American,

Jew loving, German driving — American,

Gay respectful, fag hating — American,

Coco — banana — American,

Confused Desi, Apache -American,

Dumb, fat and sexy — American,

Take that gas, pacifist — American,

Anarcho — Conservative — American,

Can say: “Fuck Jesus!”, scared to say it for Muhammad — American,

Chad-Jose — American,

No king, monarchy -American,

Got papers, marry me -American,

Speak only English,  Esperantisto — American,

Illegal, Immigration lawyer — American,

“I want you!”, “We can do it!” — American,

Proud, prudish — American,

Resist the racist — American,

Different, just like you — American,

Short dick, good heart — American,

La-la Land, Getto — American,

Feminist with wife beater — American

Hate myself, patriot — American


Overall,  an

American- American





My dick (or things that really matter)

My dick is the shortest in the town! I guess.

It’s like a perfect mushroom, that you want to eat right from the ground.

Sweet-privileged-pinkish-colored, with symmetric blood vessel design.

I used to think about penis enlargement a lot: pumping more blood into it, stretching it, training with weights, but no pills.

It doesn’t feel like a foot in the mouth, but you can fake gagging.

Maybe you’ll go like : “Dude, that’s Too Much Information! ”
But, hey, it’s all that matters!

Dick is the most hated and ,at the same time, loved thing in the world. People still start wars because of it. But I haven’t met a single person who hated my dick.

It’s true, that it’s not long enough to be self-sufficient and self-suckable for complete happiness, and , maybe, it’s gods’ punishment, to always be in the search for some help.

It’s not that interesting, if I’ll write about my left hand instead of my dick, but my left hand does a lot more during masturbation, than my dick itself. And, as an added bonus, it feels like someone else is masturbating my dick, because I’m right-handed.

I tried to count how many times I’ll come in a row, if I’ll give 5 minutes of rest after each orgasm and in the fifth round, I barely squeezed a drop of cum.

I guess my dick is not in favor of anal sex. It doesn’t feel comfortable inside the rectum. It only went in twice, but just a little bit, and by accident. But it loves being slided between the butt cheeks, super wet by my saliva, and then, surprisingly entering the right hole, and giving the partner the face of the illuminated one.

As an experiment, I’ll leave my dick untouched for a week, till the point when it’s ready to explode, and then I’ll give it to the hands of my Chinese massage therapist for happy ending, and she’ll go like “Ooooooo , that’s too much, too much!!!”(OK, this didn’t happen) (often).

Sometimes my dick likes to go to deep sleep, hug the foreskin (remember, I’m not circumcised!), and hide somewhere there.

I remember the first day entering army, when the army doctors put all of us, 50 people, in a line, and ordered to show our dicks for check-up. There were some “rebels”, who, at first, refused to do it. I was the first one to show my tiny but shiny dick. I also remember the fat guy’s dick: because of the fat, his dick was hiding, even though he shook it to make bigger (he was shy). But enough about his dick, let’s concentrate on mine!

And don’t unfairly judge me. I’m not the first and only one to write about my dick. Ask all the poets and prophets!

I guess, you’ll not like this poem (yes, I consider it as a poem) about my dick in Facebook, but how did you read it all the way down here?

My dick is all that matters!


The dog walked down the street:


A word elaborator puts some lines with space glitter:


Mrs Mikhaelovich is musturbating on the park bench, imagining naked Jesus:


A wife told her husband’s brother that she never comes. They were high. The husband learned the lesson:


Roaches on his face, trying to find his mouth entrance.

And don’t kill flies, they eat shit:


He “forgot” to tip his Uber driver. Why does the driver have anti-Semitic thoughts?


Where does it lead to? Are we lost? And who was the coffee maker pretending to be the Siddhartha?


Elizabeth is performing her heart out in the porn scene, and what do you give her? Two tiddlywinks of cum? What a dick! A true disgrace!

Beem, beem,


Beem, beem,

Don’t get bore…

In-to my wives

My first,

Transparent-pink one,

I was not a fan of violets

At school:

Why did everyone think so?
I loved the 

Hairy one,

With huge nose,

Darker skin:

She has none of it, anymore.
The revolutionist,

With bloody songs,

Why you 

Grew up

I carved 

Your name

On my skin,


Just for a

My relatively close


I knew you love girls,

Cause you loved me,

When I was 

I keep

Forgetting your name:

What did make me

Slide my hands

On your 



The same reason

Your husband is

Rolling his balls

On your

You were my


Huge tits,

No experience.
And then you.

Who stole my brain,

And my notebook.

(I’m still waiting for it).

We are look-alike members

Of Woody Allen’s 

Freudian Club.

And then three of you

Came to me

Almost the same time.

My ex’s ex girlfriend,

Ex’s ex girlfriend’s sister,

And the one 

Who was double of me:

Double age

Double weight

Double shortage.
Then again you

Another you,

Between both of you.
I found myself

In some sum of you.
And I don’t write

About you


It’s amoral,


Ավանդույթի ավանդություն

Բոլորս հիվանդ էինք.

Առաջինս ջրառատ էր,

Երկրորդս հոնքերն էր փաթթել,

Գյուղից մի երկար վարդ քոքահան արել,

Ու ցեխոտ արմատներն էր քսում մռթին։

Երրորդս էլ խնդում էր։
Առաջինս ես չէիր,

Երկրորդս հակասեռական էր,

Երրորդս խնդում է։
Առաջինս անցումն ես,

Երկրորդս՝ դադարը՝

Սոսնձախեղդ թունամոլի,

Երրորդս կխնդա։
Ո՞վ կերգի ռոբոտների,

Թվայնացված հին նկարների,

Աղբահեռացման խողովակների,

Համընդհանուր հակահեղափոխության

Մեզնից ո՞վ էր հիվանդ։


Գոնե ես հասկանային։