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
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
-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
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.