OH MY FISH
Are they from the river, the sea or the fish farm?
I do not know; but, poor things!
With its cute little snout
Freezing to death
At the Mercadona fish shop
At Carrefour or at your uncle’s store.
Those who are from the sea
They have come loaded on Hippos
From the Nile, from Aswan or from Alexandria
They who swim
Every day of its life.
Those who fish in the river
Like barbels, trout or crabs
They have colored pints
And they are very fine food
As the riddle says.
The fisherman in a barge or rod
That looks at the sun from the front
Without being blinded
He imitates all of them
He doesn’t invent anything.
“The things that I do
They are all bluster”
As he himself says.
Now you don’t have to go to sea
Nor go down to the river
Well the fish come to us
In cans or boxes filled with cold.
I come to the pond
Where with big eyes
Emerald green
The frog sings
What if it sees me
Jump, hide and shut up.
Then i go to the bar
Of the road
That it is posada too
And I ask for a beer cane
With breaded and fried legs
Of frog.
© Daniel de Culla
NIGHT OF DARKNESS
In the dark night
For Easter
I saw myself lost in a turbulent water basin
That it was nothing more than the mystique of the Passion
And that of my cock is always erect.
The Solomon’ Song
The Saint John of the Cross’ Poetry
And the Saint Teresa of Avila’ Writings
Submitted my soul in the afterlife
Before the seven straws that I made
Get me confused
In reincarnation with the Beloved
For which I made so many sacrifices.
With the pink bud of my glans
I opened the gates of Heaven
To the car of the Sun
As Homer would say
Giving free rein
To “La Bella Aurora” (Beautiful Dawn)
by the pastoralist Lope de Vega
Conquering the Golden Fleece
On the tip of my cocoon.
The Beloved never came
He didn’t answer my call
And that I was subjected to prayer
And the sacrifice.
To me He was always pure darkness
Closely associated indefinable entity
To the deception of the Church.
My night was nothing like Adamo’s Night
Even though they were twins.
I felt more like stepbrother
Of Epimetheus and Prometheus
Creators of the animal kingdom figured in my eggs.
Satan whom they revere and love so much
The priests of the religion of God
To me it was nothing but a night butterfly
Large size
That sucked my glans.
That butterfly that my grandfather taught me one day
To which he had stuck a pin
And caught in a painting.
Despite so much prayer
Fasting and sacrifice
I did not see myself with the priestly function
And one day when I saw the foal
To a young nun
In the kitchen of the Conciliar Seminary
Approaching her I said:
-Sister, I can’t take it anymore.
I want to count on you
As ally of my Erectea, the cock.
If you want…
-Hush, sinner, she told me.
I have enough with spiritual combat
What day to day I endure
Having to sacrifice daily
The elevation of my clitoris
And stick pins in the pussy
To save the Vatican and the homeland.
I would be willing to march with you
Yes one day you bring me on a white plate
All the drops of sperm from your Erectea
For me to fry them like egg white.
By telling me this, I couldn’t hold back
Giving me a glorious masturbation
Trying to throw all my sperm against the colt
Although many fell on her thighs.
As she felt that was approaching the mother superior
She took some slices of Serrano ham
Quickly cleaning their thighs
Throwing them in my face.
I ran away fast
Eating the slices of ham
In the sacred precinct of the Church.
Before leaving the Seminary
Well, I no longer believed in anything
Taking good care
That priests and nuns
They did not find out anything
I sent her a pippin apple
That one of my straws had inside
With an inscription that read:
“For the most holy cook.”
I never knew about her
It has been so long
Unless, without my knowing it
Not even realize
I had sex with her
In a homemade whore
Or highway brothel.