Serial killers for Christmas

by Daniel de Culla

Let You give blood sausage

World Peace Serial Killers

And if it’s from Burgos, from the Ribera, nice¡

Your eyes that were baptized without a doubt

In any god’ false and obscene religions

Made with crude lies

Sswim in blood with the desire to kill, murder or rape

For example, to Carmela, Juanita, Pepa

Who go to the clinic to terminate their pregnancy

Because they don’t want to feel the labor pains

Not even having an epidural.

What joy your presence shows

In these Christmas Holidays

Hearing the mercenaries and soldiers the same as listening

The death cries of so many children and women

Men and old people who have not killed a fly

Enjoying beforehand

Of this happy night when the Boss comes

The General, the Boss, the President

With his Serial Killer stripes

Tired of killing

Eager to taste the boys and girls’ leaders

And females and males’ hams

Vilely murdered.

-My children, our wives and husbands, where are they?

The survivors cry out sadly

Before that gold tray and plant

Where these category Serial Killers are served

Bones and skulls of those killed in their wars.

This year that is gone, they will return home smiling

Asking for clean clothes to change

Also, more shrapnel to be able to kill better and more

The next coming year

In which life will remain the same

And to many defenseless towns, and to tits people

It will treat them very badly

With these Serial Killers with a killing garb

Parents, sons-in-law, uncles, grandparents, friends, brothers

That will take their donkeys or horses

With their servants and comadres behind

Walking seven leagues

To harangue his warriors, “Boyfriends of Death”

Telling  their people, making them afraid

With chainsaws, pitchforks, and real tanks:

-Good morning, my ignorant people, stupid fools

Just already have another war to win lands

Or conquer oil.

We will enjoy the boys and girls

Better than the Vatican pedophile Curia.

To the fallen men and women

Don’t let them get up

Shoot them from the front or from behind.

Don’t try to reproach us

Because there, behind that church, that hermitage

By God, we are going to kill you.

We thirst for blood

And not that of consecrating!

Between pollorones, nougat, turkey or suckling pig

Infamous dances and music heard on TV

We will see cruel and unpleasant images

Of donkeys and horses

In which its haunches are bathed in blood

Because these Serial Killers just killed.

-Another war, daughter; more deaths and God knows it

Like the lazy man from the Vatican

Or the other lazy people of various religions

Carmela’s grandmother says.

Carmela responds after two hours:

-Death, more death moves them, grandmother

To these Serial Killers.

They love to create cemeteries from murderous ruins

To turn over its graves

To see if they find any living beings to kill.

In heaven all the chairs waiting for us

Are empty.

In hell are all full of Serial Killers

Blessed by the Governments in power

With their devout churches” a friar, grandmother told me

Wanting to touch me.

The grandmother responded:

-Yes, daughter, yes, my love

Here, on this Earth, for nefarious interests

Crime and evil have not ended.

The life of Serial Killers will never end.

Let’s see what Mars, the Moon, has in store for us

Or artificial intelligence.

Serial killers for Christmas

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