DANIEL DE CULLA

 

 

Like Cigarette Paper

 

My poor mother "La Daniela"

As they called her at the Casa de los Picos

In the capital of Segovia

Where mothers and children took refuge

In the fratricidal war in Spain

While their husbands were

In the war between rocks

Bunkers and trenches

In the Guadarrama mountain range

Particularly in its port

Where at the foot of the lion monument

Placed in the center of the road

Symbolizing royal power

And its strategic value

For the defense of Madrid

Between the two sides

And its connection between Madrid and Castile

The nationalists and republicans met

To arrange, during their breaks from war

On weekends

Going down to the brothels of the capital

To have sex with fascists or militiawomen

Drawing lots to see who would be saved

In the war, once again, on Mondays, begun

While the women suffered and cried

To try to get ahead to her children

While her men fought "to the death."

"La Daniela" with five daughters no less

She had no help but that of the King of Heaven

"Who gave her health and protection"

As she herself said

And confidence in seeing her husband arrive victorious

From the Cabeza Lijar lookout

Having prepared his carnal furrow of love

For his long-awaited plow

Confidant that it was true that he was a saint

One of the few who hadn't come down to Madrid

To let off steam with the street-walking whores.

One day, when "La Daniela" and her daughters

Along with other women and children

Were near the chapel of El Carmen

In San Rafael, Segovia

Praying to the Virgin

That her husband would arrive safe and sound

She saw herself weeping with joy

Seeing her husband mounted on his horse

Tired, but happy, victorious.

She signaled to him, called him.

The hermitage bells ringing

The town was all excited

She and her daughters running to congratulate him

Promising him that today he would have his field

Open to all his passion of love

Although to his fellow women

He would have commented:

-That, because of my husband

My vagina was like a cigarette paper

Still suffering well and a beauty

To Daniel, my love.

 

Missionary In Peten

 

A woman devoted to saints

Of Easter candles and Mass incense

Praised the Lord

Because she had a body

Worthy of merit

That had already been hinted at

More than once

The parish priest in confession:

-My daughter, what's wrong with you?

-A fever, Father

That pierces my heart.

-Do you want me to kill you a bird

Of those you raise at home?

-Yes, kill it for me, Father

When I left my skirt

And pull down my panties.

This woman had a seven-year-old son

Devoted to that priest

Of whom he became an altar boy.

In a winery owned by his mother

The boy invited him to try

A local wine.

The priest got drunk

From this cool wine

Telling the boy, half-drunk:

-If your mother doesn't change her mind

I want to enjoy your pretty little ass.

-By Saint Isidore!

The boy replied furiously.

I don't want your clapper to ring

On my little ass.

Are you starving, Father?

Having so many bigots

Who, for a little money from the collection box

They will give you some of their chicken.

-You're bad, son.

-No, I'm worse, Father.

If you come down with me, Father

To the back of the cellar

You'll see the wine rack we have

And the best wine to taste.

First, the priest started down.

Behind, the boy.

He grabbed a chair

Breaking three of his ribs.

He grabbed a club

Knocking off his mustache.

He tore his member out by the roots

And gave it to a bat

Which carried it by the beak

To the Hermitage of the Sovereign Virgin.

In the Archbishopric

After a while

Without any news of him

Presuming he was missing

They reported that perhaps

He had left as a missionary

To El Petén in the Republic of Guatemala

Up to his tricks on Flores Island

And Santa Elena de la Cruz.

 

Secrets Of Erection

 

That tyrants, genocidaires, and serial killers

Are always erect

Is a truth as big as a temple.

That gurus, friars, and priests

Have it elevated to the Lord

Is a reality that, in victory or submission

They place demons and sins.

This is how we read and see it

In dictators who rely on their cocks

To commit truly obscene actions

That cause so much harm around the globe:

Gaza, Syria, Yemen, Afghanistan

Guantanamo, Ukraine, El Salvador.

If our ancestors

Made sacrifices to Mars, Jupiter, Saturn

To the Sun and the Moon

To Satan, "the most beautiful bastard"

Today, our rulers

Sacrifice human beings, attack them, and kill them

As if they were masterless dogs

On the altar of hatred and repression.

Thanks to their erection

The capitalists, the traffickers of dreams

And arms factories

Rejoice seeing the earth

Is flooded with their joy and spermatozoa.

-Let the whole world sing joyfully, they exclaim:

A genocidal and a fascist dictator

Have been reborn; they can be heard by their clamor

And by the loud noise they make

By braying, no, by speaking

For they are illiterate beyond salvation.

From a tree came a monkey

From a monkey creation came to us humans.

Death will never be defeated

For death attracts death

When humanity shares in its victory or defeat.

Eternal novelty! Ha, ha, ha.

Death has not lost its sting.

From his fly as he stands up, erect

This gives man new life

To be conceived in those cunts

Bounty of defeated love

And glory among asses turned

Into an expiatory sacrifice

Of lustful slavery.

That peace reigns among men

Is a great lie

For death walks beside us

Joyfully waiting

For our last ejaculation in the banquet hall

Full of murdered guests

Or killed in the back

Who celebrate the tyrant, the genocidal

The serial killer

Always erect.

 

DANIEL DE CULLA

 

DANIEL DE CULLA: Writer, poet, painter and photographer. Member of the Collegiate Association of Spanish Writers, Earthly Writers International Caucus, Poets of the World, (IA) International Authors, Surrealism Art, Friends of The Blake Society, Nietzsche Circle and others. Director of Gallo Tricolor Review and Robespierre Review. He has participated in numerous Poetry and Theater Festivals, has collaborated and collaborates with various magazines and newspapers such as: Otoliths; The Stray Branch, Down in the Dirt Magazine, Allien Buddha Zine, The Poet Magazine, Uppagus, ReSite, GloMag, Fleas on the Dog, LAROLA, RAL'M, Misery Tourism, Leavings, The Creative Zine, Terror House Press; and other national ones: Pluma y Tintero, Letras de Parnaso, Revista Azahar, Cultura de Veracruz; Vericuetos,  Sol Cultural Center, etc.