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‘Descent to the Beach’ and other poems

By: Daniel de Culla

Isabel G. de Diego’ Photo


Children are already going down to the beach
Earthy sand next to the Cantabrian sea.
They proclaim joy in their walk
Glory and happiness of finding the best place
To put chairs, mats, towels
Where to dig a hole
Fill it with sea water
And build sand castles.
Eder guides us
Kylian following behind
The first thing they will do is go get water
Bringing us dreams and smiles
Of a thousand colors.
Under a fiery sun
Brunette mom is going to get
With her polarized sunglasses
While dad goes with the children
To collect water in a bucket
Because children pick it up
In wicker baskets
Where the water goes
Which makes them very funny.
There is a seagull in the sand
That Kylian wants to grab by the beak.
He will catch a feather in the air
Which Eder wants to have too.
The feather of the herring gull
Will be the flag of the sand castle!
-Look, kids, at the seagull in the air.
It carries a goldfish in its beak!
Children, getting up to see the seagull
Having stepped on the sand castle.
-It doesn’t matter, says Kylian.
Let’s see if it falls off the peak
The goldfish mom, dad.
Well no. Fly, fly the seagull
And it doesn’t stop flying.


In the city of Madrid
Cosmopolitan, beautiful, mean and disgusting
Capital of Spain
Almost fresh out of studying
In a priests seminar
Happy, happy and well “out”
I took the underground from Urgel station
To the Latina station
And, in the carriage I placed myself
Next to a beautiful young woman
That she carried in her arms
A Status Quo “Greatest Hits” vinyl
A London rock band
That made me feel
Desire to cum.
The car was quite packed.
Of people coming and going
At the stations of the Line
What, from time to time
It made me press closer against her.
She, in the squeezes, looked at me
She looked up and down.
In a start
I couldn’t contain myself and said:
-I love Status Quo.
I’d like to meet you.
Do you want to be my girlfriend?
She turned her face pink.
She didn’t say anything to me, smiling.
In a male outburst
I could not contain myself.
Excited I told her:
-More than Status Quo
I would like to hear
Your loud farts in my mouth.
Me, how dull and ignorant
I got off at La Latina
Because I had to get off.
She left for the Sol station.
Oh, how sadly I say it ¡
Oh, how painful I feel it ¡
I could have followed her
As far as she went
To see if my taste for her was fulfilled
And we could dance Status Quo
Both full of joy.


I have gathered, along with others
Around a pelafustana and parabolan grandmother
To hear their gossip and songs
As it so popular
In a paradine, round term
As a preserve or dehesa:
“In Pelafustán, town of our latent geography
With no importance or significance
Especially full of older people
With its castle and everything
And with its church, of course
Whose importance has appeared
By grace of a coup given by a such Libelo
Even writer, book commentator
Of historical memory and other variants
With the blade of a rowing
In the water of a murky river
That cows do when mean.
This Libelo has kicked in the sky of the palate
To all those who took taste or taste
Of a new platonic and atheist Republic
Starting to show sucking desire
Of the old and New Spain
Lackey in the King’s stables
Following the example of another such San Mames
As popular as possible for its common being
Who, “to paladinas”, public, clear, patent
Said such day: “That our nation
It should remain sacred and fascist
With its eternal heraldry strap loaded with sticks. ”
Without shawl, this Libelo
(Palafox (Juan-Hito) could have been surnamed)
Remembering that eminent subject
Bishop of the Puebla de los Angeles
From the kingdom of Aragon, author of a work:
“History of the Conquest of China for the Tartars”
In our image and likeness.
His followers, that there were
Today they feel bad, as if he had given them
A kick in the sky of the palate
Bilis taste in the busilis
Loading their fists from their right hands
Taking them to the cross
Of their corresponding cocks
As an illustrious lord of football did
In a women’s soccer final. ”
-Hurrah¡ for you, my boys
The grandmother exclaimed at the end
Displaying a “battery Holy”
Or comfort brought from Toledo Capital
We applauding it at the same time.
-Daniel de Culla


It’s very hot at home
From San Isidro Labrador street, in Madrid.
From my window I see
The daughter of a mother who is from Cádiz
Very good looking daughter
Half lying on the bedroom bed
Open legs to a little dog
The one calling Angel.
She looks like a beautiful courtesan!
What she gives to her dog
The work a man must do.
The little dog is devoted to that saint
What the young woman carries between her legs
Well, it looks excited perched
Licking and opening the furrow.
I do not know what time it is.
The heat is suffocating.
The bells of the church of the Saint ring
While the people enter excitedly
To enjoy the freshness of the temple.
Me, seeing her and her dog at work
I have been so excited
That when I meet her on the street
I’m going to congratulate her, and her dog.
For that field that she has to expand
Which is a beauty.
Also, I’m going to tell her
That I am devoted to her saint
That I carry it in my soul
As it matches
And what if you don’t care
I want to trade her very pretty body.


They told the boy at home:
-You are more of a donkey than a plow.
And he was an angel
Fallen from the sky with songs
With great fear of God and the priests.
Educated like no other
He told everyone:
-Good morning to you.
He was an altar boy in his town’s church
Fuentepelayo (Segovia).
What he feared most were the farts that the priest
Threw himself in the Sacristy.
He went to the Segovia’ Seminary
And then to Madrid
To do the job of studying
And being able to eat every day.
But what he learned there
Was to jerk off like a jerk
And ask the Virgin and God
Help and support to cum better.
The king of heaven and the Virgin Mary
Gave him health and protection
But he upset them and hurt himself.
That’s why his teeth were damaged
With so many straws.
One day, while confessing
He could not stand it any longer
Well, the confessional smelled to him
As the Vatican cave
Marching into the street without even saying goodbye
Despising the buns
“Pedo de Monja” and “Bartolillos de Cura Pedophile”
(Nun’ farts and pedohpile Priest’ bartolillos) .
His parents’ displeasure was tremendous.
Making his way
He marched to the Europes
To see if they would tie up there
Dogs with sausage or chorizo.
He knew about English farts
Dutch, Belgian, French, German
And they all came out of an ass
Braying with joy.
In their different languages
They were all holy donkey or donkey farts
In other words, three to a quarter farts.
I had to go back home
Coming back as I left, with nothing
Located in Madrid
In the Mataderos neighborhood
Farting four times
When the bells were ringing
From the church of Saint Michael the Archangel.
My excited family
Because this was a divine feeling
They came for me
To see what it brought them
My mother telling me with authority:
-Now you will have to get to job
And look for work.
You can’t live on a cap here
Although it is a beauty.

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