Sunday 18 June 2023

Three Poems by Daniel de Culla



Where are you going? You ask the politician.

The politician answers:

-To cheat and steal.

-Where are you going? a sinful woman asks the priest.

The priest answers:

-You haven't given me the meat yet

And you already want absolution?

-Where are you going? the boy or girl asks the instructor.

The instructor answers:

To the clergyman and the trout

Your divine little ass searches.

-Where are you going? the wife asks the husband who is a nurse.

-To buy tobacco

And raise the skirt of the Whore

From the Country House

And give her the Covid injection.

-Where are you going, Patron? the worker asks the boss.

The Patron, potbellied and sick, replies:

-To see how the girls work.

The worker followed the boss with his eyes

Seeing how to a working girl

He was riding on his horn.

Soon after, she yelled:

-Oh God, let my master run.

The worker, thus seeing his master

He told to a coworker

That worked right next to him:

-Little brunette of my eyes

Just looking at you


You burn and burn me

Taking out of her fly a kind of black pudding

Showing it to the girl

Telling her:

-If you want, put it to roast in your warm breast.

She replied:

-She is good in good faith.

But put it in your mother fucking.



To her, my sister Santa Pe

Slim and pretty

Our mother wanted to marry

As soon as possible

But she didn't want to do.

Forced, she met a boy

That he loved her

But she didn't even want

Nor in photography.

As he invited her to Cinema España

To see the movie Salon Kitty

A luxurious Berlin brothel

That the Nazis used as a cover

Of espionage and sexual misdeeds

In which Helmut Berger works

That she loves and adores

She accepted the invitation.

At midnight they went to the cinema

And the very naughty

As soon as they sit in the seats

Lights out

Starting the movie

The rogue was going to the chestnut

His sword out and outstretched

With the intention of penetrating

Or that she rubbed it.

-Stop right there, stay still, wimpy

Santa Pe told him.

I know what you want

I know where you're going

I know what you've come for

Do you want to charge the entrance

Sticking your sword up my thighs.

Go dig chives

Or to fuck your mother, fool.

I will give you my love

When the frog grows hair.

He put the sword in his fly

Grumpy, sad and heartbroken

Left the cinema

Shitting on the mother

That Santa Pe gave birth.

She was happy, very happy

Watching how Helmut Berger

Fucked good girls

And, once fucked

He offered them to German officers.

She also saw how

Some dwarfs with swastikas on their penises

Fucked Jewish prisoners

Trying to make them

Prostitute agents.

Her mother was on the balcony

She was on the balcony

To see if her daughter came.

When she saw her approach the balcony

Her mother asked:

- How about daughter?

How did it go?

She happily replied:

-Mother, he is the third one that I send for a walk.

Nobody is telling me:

"Open your clam, Margarita

That I want to charge the entrance”.

With my clam, mother

I don't intend to earn a living.


As the Eresma river drains from the slopes

From Guadarrama on the way to La Granja

In Segovia

So my love slipped through where I slept

Your peacock, beloved soul.

This flower represents our pure love

That we gave ourselves through the most intoxicating places

From our mountain where kings and subjects

Made children "like Donkey"

As any animal.

In the Boca del Asno, on the ground

Where your peacock slept

Now yes

I came to you, you caressed me, you pampered me

And then my Love fell on you

Until, after the ecstasy

Love left for the forests of Valsaín.

Here and now yes

As in the times

In which the monarchs were measured with the bears

You rode me on a horse

And we went for a walk across the river


"I will give you

I will give you beautiful girl

I'll give you one thing

One thing I only know, pine nuts!

Until my imperial eagle

Returned to nest in the cup of your haughty pine

Hugging your peacock

Putting my lips

In your donkey mouth

Eating a peach

With a red heart

-How rich it is

Although it doesn't taste like anything, I told you.

You turned red

Placing the bow of your ponytail

On the neck of my imperial eagle.

Daniel de Culla is a writer, poet, painter and photographer. He’s member of the Spanish Writers Association, Earthly Writers International Caucus, Poets of the World, (IA) International Authors, Surrealism Art, Friends of The Blake Society, Nietzsche Circle, Red Internacional de Escritores por la Tierra, and others. Director of Gallo Tricolor Review, and Robespierre Review. He participated in many Festivals of Poetry, and Theater, and has collaborated and collaborates with various magazines and reviews such as: Otoliths; The Stray Branch, Ariel Chart, The Penmen Review, The Sandy River Review, Raven Cage Zine, Down in the Dirt Magazine, Envision Arts, Allien Buddha Zine, The Creativity Webzine, Flve Fleas (Itchy Poetry),Poetry Pacific, Old Pal, Lighten Up Online, The Poet Magazine, Paragraph Planet, Uppagus, ReSite, GloMag, Fleas on the Dog, LAROLA, RAL’M, Misery Tourism, Leavings, The Creative Zine, Terror House Press, PS: It’s Still Poetry, Open Doors Review,Tigers Shark Magazine,  Words Rhymes & Rhythm, Synchronized Chaos Magazine, Athens Art, Street Cake, Littoral Magazine, The Poet Magazine, Poetry Pacific, Best Poems encyclopedia, Ranger, and others. e-mail: County of origin: Spain.City: Burgos.

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