Poetry by Mykyta Ryzhykh



I drink the blood of a fox who smiles at me as if 

I could someday found the capital of a huge empire

I drink the death of a fox as if 

I were grass in which the dead body will gradually drown

I drink death 

I am an unborn fox child


the parrot repeats after me as if my phrases are smart and mean something

the human child also repeats after me –

what for?


the ant’s revenge

   is a pleasant tickling 

      of my knee


no one died except the pig

people thank god for food

the farm is falling asleep


the bird outside the window 

disappears along with the drops 

of autumn rain

Reprint by Litbreak Magazine, 28.11.2023


I dream that mosquitoes get rid of their bloody religion and cry in pain

my red hands have become a mosquito graveyard

all night I dream of graves without flowers

Reprint by Pegasus


my mother counts the amount of lead and uranium in the earth’s soil

the earth is round like the earth

the sky is black like a mining night

my mom takes the button out of her stomach

father is eloquently silent

the father is not sure that he is the father

Mary is not sure about anything either

and only the baby puts his feet on the milky ground

the Magi bring gifts to the baby Jesus – gills and a gas mask

Reprint by Pegasus


for whom do we drink water if from heaven God brings down rain on the earth?

for whom do we live if the top angels press the wrong buttons?

it turns out that we all live on a cloud

it turns out that we are electronic rivers of rain from electronic clouds

Reprint by Ripple Lit


the lanterns are shining

people die

water flows

the sun is shining

flowers die

blood flows

people are still dying​

Reprint by Rise Up












soldiers play birds

Reprint by Rise Up


My cat knows nothing about blood

My cat kills a mouse no matter what breed it is

My cat can’t be Jewish

My cat can have any hair color

My cat can vomit after overeating

My cat can lie down and die quietly in silence

My cat can fuck as much as he wants and wherever he wants

My cat can do nothing

My cat can ask for food without earning it

My cat can pretend to be human

Living people go on living in a cycle of war 

Dead people keep dying


Invent me 

Turn me inside out 

Kiss me with weightlessness

Touch me with humility

A little winter for a bird 

A little bird for winter

The freckled mirror dissolves

Old men stare into the reflection of the ice

Military pilots waltzing like mosquitoes

The ears that have been blown off are contused

In the reflection of the eyes hides a childhood that no longer exists


Mother feeds pigeons by the dugout

Black pigeons in the white snow 

Looking for crumbs of bread


What do they feed Jewish drowned men?

It would be strange if they fed them fish

It would be strange if they didn’t cry

It would be funny if birds flew in

It would be vague if the Germans did it

It would be funny if children did it

It would be creepy if no one stood on the shore

What the trees were thinking when the hole next to them was dug

What the sand was thinking when they put the corpses on it

What the ravine was thinking when they flooded it

The Jewish Sea which is not to be spoken of


I love you but you are 

a withered flower and also 

covered with frost


Pesach of a severed silent vein

Whose blood flowed through the ditch of world (hi)story?

Hі! – tree branches waving

Hee hee! – the roots of the legs laugh and we are not able to move

Meanwhile the bone of a severed branch crunches underfoot

It crunches somewhere in the chest so that I want to break the insides

Fragments of the pain of water and silent stones weave a wreath

Wreaths are usually put on the heads of Jesus brides ukrainian girls

Wreaths are often placed near the graves in the cemetery

And at night in a bed floating in black cast iron

I dream of flowers without graves

During the sand of time the grass underfoot dries out

Therefore instead of grass in wreaths we braid tears

Grass is our home grass is glass

After death I would like to become grass

After death I would like to become glass

After death I would like to be without legs

After all every new day is a small escape for refugees.

I know that my pupils will no longer see a children’s collage

I always knew that one day my college would be smashed

I knew that one day they would kill us all and prayed that I would die beautifully

Unfortunately I did not die although what are the reasons for living

I teach my (eyes?) pupils not to see

I teach my fictional acquaintances to forget

I teach my legs to sleep and dreams to crumble

However time devours all its bad students anyway

I can’t do anything

I can’t even write

After all what is silent poetry capable of talking 

Аbout today other than war?

Reprint by Orbis


Love is religion

Every time I drown in you I forget that I can’t swim

Every time I forget that the shore does not exist

Every time I use the right to remember and try to forget

The heart is leather satisfaction

Teach me to steal money not only from talent but also from the body

Teach me how to kiss people I don’t like

Teach me the night because the day is long over

Insatiable bodies fuck in all cracks

I no longer have a body

The body no longer has me

Love is walls without a ceiling in a homeless house

Reprint by Orbis


My dog suddenly turned blue

My friend the groomer only sparingly said that he sympathized with my grief

No doctor or zoologist could help either

The psychological support service also did not help me

The dog looked at me sadly and pressed against my leg

It’s been a day since my dog died

Exactly a day has passed since I imagine that my dog did not die, but only turned blue

Exactly a day passed like a day, I throw out the dog food from the bowl and pour a new one

My dog suddenly turned blue


My green throat has turned into a garden

I have to be silent a lot

I have to drink a lot so that the trees grow

I have to breathe quietly so as not to frighten the birds

I don’t want to scare those who are happy


Nobody counts death until nobody dies


summer heat secrets

shells and bullets fly instead of birds and spaceships


mom said

when you grow up you will live

mom lied


two clods


people living in the grave want to live. every day they collect pennies (calling this process work), study at the university (to temporarily get an exemption from army duty?), go to the grocery store and cook (although automatic robots were invented for this purpose decades ago), build a career (although it would be better for neural networks), they pay taxes on income (so that later they can look for new income for themselves (so that the state can have its own income (to pay benefits to the poor is also income). and what am I doing at the same time? I am fighting the shadow from humanity by closing eyes and creating a cast-iron darkness of blindness. і succeed: my vision is already minus three. meanwhile, the refugees leave their chicken nests and go to Europe. іn Europe, refugees, like ant queens, seek shelter. human miserable life – and this life turned out to be an escape. from where? where? at what pace? why are people still working instead of machines in mcdonalds? why is mcdonalds paid? why is the nuclear winter of dictators so expensive for slaves? humanity living in the grave wants to live.


in childhood, we all often got sick, but with age we have no time to get sick or laziness. in 2022, for the first time since coming of age, my heart ached and I vomited. what are the reasons for my indignation? It turned out that the Nazis are murderers, people who love war are ordinary people who love their children and go to the same store with you. it turned out that fascists always believe that they are fighting fascism (but more often they are just interested in money). it turned out that puke is even nice – and after that there is an opportunity to fall asleep and not see anything. but during global changes, eyes are always opened. in childhood, they lied in blockbusters: the military does not always have two arms and legs, the head is not always intact, the intestines are not always hidden inside the body, the body is not always present in principle. Is it only dust that exempts you from taxes? how many years did you work and pay taxes before you died? how much money did you pay for nuclear winter? as a child, winter was considered an adventure. maybe the tode mouse finds the mousetrap fun before dying. the cat treats the mouse as its prey. but I noticed that often cats do not eat mouse corpses, but simply play with them. nature is funny even if it is shit. funny: before the war, I had practically no money. now the money is there but it is meaningless. funny: I didn’t think killing was a good thing before. now I don’t think killing is a good thing either. but it’s me, not others. a couple of years ago I was sure that the illusion of love is nutritious. now I’m sure only that love is an illusion. humanity is an illusion. Noah’s ark as in a fairy tale myth. only not a single religious character actually exists. after all: no Jesus will die in my place during the war. in the end: instead of me during the war, no Jesus will die. and it would be better if no one died. but what will kids be taught about in fucking world history classes in the future if no one dies?