DANIEL DE CULLA

 

 

They Leave With Joy

 

To Santa Clara Street

My friend and I have gone

To offer our penises

For the girls in the brothel house

To take them and feed them.

The matchmaker Celestina

Who opened the door for us

Is called Plasencia de la Olla

Who gave a commanding voice:

-Girls, come to the living room¡

They come skipping with joy

Girls who have started university

Bringing hope to our penises

Laden with anxiety.

We have chosen the two who walk best

And can tell they are hungry for men

Leaving the other three out.

Behind those two

We have reached the beds.

They have opened them

Showing us their preserved cunts

Telling us:

-These penises of yours

Are a very good thing

For they greatly adorn our lower bellies.

Now, naked, we've pulled down

Their panties with our penises

One pink, the other red

Both slightly stained.

They've taken our penises by the hand

Not knowing where they're leading them.

They weren't mistaken!

Because they've taken a quarter of our penises

Into their open vaginas.

An excellent radiance

We saw enter through the large and small lips

To the heaven of their vaginas

We enjoying eternal glory.

I don't know about them.

We didn't look at them.

When we finished ejaculating

And Celestina finished cleaning us

With a dish sponge

She took us to the door saying:

-The whores need you to love.

Give them love, give them lots of love.

The whores need you to love.

In their cunts your freedom grows.

-Daniel de Culla

 

Trump Is Trans

 

That Trump is trans is an undeniable truth.

A fucking truth!

As ordinary citizens would say.

The way he dances says it all

Especially when he confirmed it

In a dance

In the White House's Golden Hall

That other trans man who governs Argentina

Like a scorned faggot

By loudly telling him to his face

With the sound of a chainsaw:

-What a faggot you are, you idiot!

Oh, you, you disgraced donkey

What great services you've rendered

Committing truly obscene acts

And crimes against humanity.

So many are they, so famous

That in your figurative vagina in your cock

You also sing to them

Praising war criminals

Serial killers like the ICE of your land

Reserving your greatest evil (Oh, your glory!)

For the Palestinians, Iraqis, Iranians, Syrians

And your greatest love

For the Arabs who shove their hoses

From the pumps of their oil and gasoline

Up your beautiful asshole.

Admired men from Argentina, Spain, and Israel

And from the United Arab Emirates

As well as women from France, Italy, and Spain

Who have cunts

That the citizens of their towns mock

Praise that trans cock of yours

And your sawdust-filled, bird-like head

Sawdust, sawdust, killer mornings of Trump

That you said one day

Perched atop the Capitol:

-Jesus was the God’s only transsexual son.

You know very well that many nations

Hold you in contempt

But how many owe your wickedness

To your deranged graces

To your wild, deranged dances

That yearn for cruel victories over the innocents

That, for this reason, you sit and dress

Like a king or pope

Concealing your trans serial killer attire.

Yes, it's not enough for the Argentinian to say it

It's enough to verify it with examples

On television

And in the daily newspapers.

-Daniel de Culla

 

The Seducer Of His Sister-In-Law

 

Filomena de Santoyo, beautiful and maiden

She was Patricio de Prado's sister-in-law.

They lived, each in their own house

In Valtiendas, north of Segovia

Although she was from Pecharromán

And he from the Caserio de San José.

They loved each other

Though they did everything possible

To keep it a secret.

Sometimes they were seen walking through the mountains

Where no one could see them

Making a fire in the night of bones and skulls

Of wild boars and wolves they had killed

Hunters with the souls of terrible beasts.

On a grill they cooked lamb chops

Over the embers of the vine shoots

To feed themselves after having sex

Watching the rabbit mate

With the alluring turtledove.

-Suck my cock, Patricio would say to her

When he had an erection.

-I'll eat it, if you drink blood from my cunt

 Filomena would reply

For she knew that Patricio

Would take her blood-soaked sanitary pads

From the trash can

Kissing them and ejaculating on them, singing:

"I sing to you, sanitary pad of my beloved

I praise you for being the light of her cunt

Paten of my cock

That illuminates my solitary wanks

Torch of the newly bloodied Mount of Venus.

Maybe one day, Filomena

I will drink it from your heart."

Afterwards, he behind her

They would return to Valtiendas

She without panties, her slit half-open

He, cunningly, walked with his cock out.

One day, halfway

Between Pecharromán and Sacramenía

Just after descending from

The “mountain where no one can see us”

They headed to the Coto de Cárdaba

And beside its Romanesque Church of Santa María

Which was once part of an old monastery

Of a Benedictine priory

They lay down, wanting to rest

And gazing at the stars.

When Patricio felt Filomena asleep

He took a ham knife from his backpack

Stepping it in from her throat to her neck

Without going around her head.

He gutted her

He pulled out her entrails, which he threw away

Directing his fierce mouth to her heart

To bite it and lick the blood with his tongue.

Then he took a slingshot he carried

For hunting birds:

Canaries, nightingales

Blackbirds and sandpipers

Placing her heart in it as if it were a rolling stone

Throwing it towards the Caserio de San José

Saying rudely:

-If it's lost, let it be lost

I can do without Filomena.

When they found Filomena's body

Without guts or heart

The people thought it had been the work

Of some terrible beasts.

-Daniel de Culla

 

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.