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В пряничном домике,
Сбоку на пику,
Я наливал тебе в рот
Ежевику.
Вот Дровосеки,
А вот Эвридика,
Быстро все в торт.
Только тихо.

Yaroslav Kulikovsky. Kiev, 2021 (c).
Part of the cycle: Poems on City Flesh and Power.

👉 tiktok.com/@kulikovskyonthepunchline
👉 youtube.com/@KulikovskyOnThePunchline/shorts
This poem is about the freedom to play with meanings, images, and the body beyond gender norms. There are no “proper” bodies, no “normative” genders here — only a space where blackberry and Eurydice can share the same frame, and a cake can become a medium for dialogue rather than an object. All genders are needed, all genders matter. Western culture thrives in ambiguity — and that is its strength.
Изобразим безумную оргию,
Нарисуем цветы как Ван Гог:
Семь мужчин, восемь девушек огненных
И один трансцендентный цветок.
На седьмом небе дико и матерно
Полыхаем, я — умер, Я — Бог,
И растопчем букашек под скатертью,
Да в клубничную фифу шесть ног.

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

👉 tiktok.com/@kulikovskyonthepunchline
👉 youtube.com/@KulikovskyOnThePunchline/shorts
This poem is a burst of ****** surrealism, blending the visual intensity of Van Gogh with the ecstasy of a queer bacchanalia. Bodies dissolve into myth, identity fractures into color and heat, and desire becomes both ritual and revolt. It’s a vision where transcendence, sensuality, and collapse merge into one explosive image — poetic, raw, and divine.

— The End —