Daniel de Culla

Old People Prefer Blondes; I Don’t

I am a redneck, who makes the earth happy.

Coming to town with my tractor

To demonstrate in the field

Produces a sublime feeling in me

Like when I cum inside

For having prostate surgery

After jerking off on the block

And shit on the mother

Who gave birth to us all.

I boast of coming to Madrid, Seville

Valladolid, La Coruña

Praising our sacred fascist braying

So that the Government unions can see

That I put all the interest on my part

My will and good wishes

To move forward with our misfortune

Like strong cheeses that are cured

Between vine leaves

In the middle of the cow shit.

When I milk, and fuck with the relative

I always play Marilyn Monroe

Madonna, Taylor Swift, Lady Gaga’s songs

Leaving the donkey we have

In a vast field where it can

Expand its dick

Dreaming about Balam’s Donkey

Or in Borak, Muhammad’s donkey

Whom Father Arcos adored

With his animal quill

Professor, theologian, religious and missionary.

Since I saw the movie

“Old men prefer blondes”

My sexual itch has been fighting

Between Marilyn, blonde

And Jane Russel, brunette

My relative changing her hair color

The one with the head and the mount of Venus

In every orgasm

Unraveling from them

Everything pertaining to Sex.

One day we got angry

Because I wanted to have sex with her

In the midst of the sheep

Already in the sheepfold

Fearing that I would like to do it for the Anus

Because of her

I took a flight from Madrid to the Canary Islands

To patent there, in situ

The beautiful qualities, honors and glories

From the blonde pussies of blondes

Coming from Northern Europe.

Two public blondes from head to tailbone

And another bottle blonde’s head

And her pussy black like a firebrand

Was disillusioned me

Because they smelled and tasted like bedbugs.

Not like my relative who smells like cow shit

That she chews with her teeth

With the regret of having spent on them, and lost

The delivery of a few jugs of milk

Easter Milk

From Aranda de Duero, Burgos

Telling my relative

Once I returned to town

The same thing that a King of Spain told

Asnal and human

To his submissive people

After having thrown more than eight hundred powders

And having killed elephants and bears:

-I’m not going to do it anymore.

I have not been entirely satisfied.

The relative answers:

-Happy me; that me already told you:

That you were not going to get such an object.

What you have to do

It is valuing what is mine’s

That is not blonde

But it is the highest

Worthy and fair appreciation.


Daniel de Culla is a 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, The International Society of Assemblage & Collage Artists, 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


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