DANIEL DE CULLA

 

 

Guess, Riddle

 

For the legitimacy of some votes

A politician surrounded by generous politicians

Shits Decrees daily, and in abundance

Placing a gold crown on his head

Of what the Moor shit

Similar to that cardboard crown

That we get when we buy a Roscón de Reyes

(Kings’ cake)

Saying with gratitude:

-Well now as a reward

I want to elevate to the altars

That German serial killer and genocidal

Who did so much good for Europe.

The thing does not stop there ¡

What has he done with the poor old man

Who preceded him in the presidency?

More or less to catch him

Give him a certain mixture of fascist republicanism

And castrate him with the approval of his people

At the same time that a Presbyterian priestess exclaims:

-Eternal God! A brother with his brother

Commit such barbarity!

Not content with this

Imitating the cruelest and most murderous dictators

He wants to subdue and domesticate the people and their people

Well, he knows a lot about

The Mass Assology of Fascism

Thanks to a Chair of Braying

Achieved by hand thanks to the Donkeys

Who are behind him and applaud him

Well, his studies are none

And his talent stands out

Like the cock of a Donkey that is in motion.

So is his pen with which he signs Decrees ¡

He doesn't know a jot about stars

But he wants to place them on his chest

Like the military dictators.

By fair means or foul

He wants to conquer lands

Or seize them by force.

That's how his talent stands out!

He's become a Golden Ass

His braying is frightening.

They call his office “the Manger”

Because they say that everyone who follows him

Flatters him and serves him comes to him to bray.

A fortune teller from the Constellation of Cancer

Or the Scorpion

Who we consulted about the future of the World

Passing a cryptocurrency with his effigy through her cunt

Terrified, she told us:

--Another Nazi will put us in the world war again.

And, with sarcastic grace

She asked us a riddle:

-Guess, riddle

Who put the egg in the straw?

-The hen, we answered.

She said:

-Shit for whoever guesses it.

 

Oracle In The Lollipop

 

Dodona's vagina spoke like an oracle

Because it said very true and exact things

When Delfos sucked her lollipop

That came out from between her thighs

Not admitting discussion about its acidic taste.

Me, Apollo, like our friends

Zeus, Jupiter, Libyan and Alexander the Great

Who knew the oral forms of Love

We considered the Vagina divine

That is why, in angelic salutation

We addressed her, Dodona

Before making the lace

Which forms the thread of sperm by itself

At the time of fucking now in one way

Now in another

In these terms:

-One ass, Oracle, we address the divinity

Of your Mount of Venus and its Lollipop

To search among its hairs

An answer to our elevated excitement

And if it is worth making Love

In such a crude world

Where the people who exercise power

Are rich people and evil serial killers

Who give to women

As they themselves say: Stick and Stay Stiff.

And if it is better to throw on them

(Your Mount of Venus and Lollipop)

Our spermatic snows

Our hailstones and winds from the ass

Sitting on Vagina

Making your whole body a lordship

For, later, county

And finally carnal principality.

With style and oratorical language

Dodona spoke to us:

-The answer is in the Lollipop.

Suck it with eloquence

Until its acidity surrounds your neck

Like a scarf or compress

Of the ceremonies of the ass.

You are praying for the celestial

Or terrestrial Lollipop

And your hanging penis

Like a fish from the tropical seas

Is worthy of the crystalline sphere

Of each one of the female vaginas

As it is said in an orbicular way

Round or circular

In ancient and modern pornography

That animates our walks

For life.

 

Twerk For Valentine's Day

 

For Valentine's Day, William Shakespeare said:

«Love is a smoke made with the vapor of sighs».

Josefina Zuain tells us:

“Love, a practice that leads us to move the flesh

In unusual ways

Opening new possibilities to feel (ourselves)

And think (ourselves)”.

My friend Miguel de Vergas:

“Love is a symphony of farts”.

What I believe wholeheartedly.

That's why, one day

I said to a friend of mine, a singer apprentice

At the Music Conservatory:

-I would like to feel and enjoy your farts in my mouth.

For Valentine's Day

I left home to visit new lands:

England, the Channel Islands

Ireland, Denmark, Holland

Belgium, France

Returning home saying of all of them:

-Here, in these cities, like in Spain

They don't tie dogs with sausage.

It is true that there, in those countries

The girls open their legs more easily

But they are not as affectionate

As the ones I have known

In Segovia, Cuenca, Madrid and Burgos.

Whores everywhere are the same.

They fake orgasms

Like those that some friends of mine had

From Fuente Pelayo, in Segovia

Cañete, Cuenca

And in Madrid, Carabanchel Bajo.

There as here

The young or old

Who is going to get married in the Church or Court

Goes to mass or to the Plenary Hall

And, when going to embrace his beloved, he says to her:

-Tell me what you have, my love

That I want to embrace you

And your belly, pregnant for another, won't let me get.

Horns are universal

Like growling or scolding

And what the male has

To that of female mend.

It's true that these nation have

Good whiskey and better gin

But we have good wine

Plant up, plant down.

That's why I returned to Spain

With my tail between my legs

Saying to myself

On the train back:

I have to mend it

I'll mend it, for my first girlfriend

The bread bag.

 

DANIEL DE CULLA