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QUARANTINE COVID 19

Being tiny

Much less than a lap

It has more strength

Than the poison of a toad

-Covid 19

 

Although it looks Chinese

Italian is

Put in royal crown

Castilian.

-Coronavirus

 

It is break and tear

From rubbing and scratching

Kyrie eleison is out

Between crying and grumbling.

-Coronavirus

 

Of the third age are

Absent were from Glory

She arrives at the Residence or Geriatric

And to heaven it takes them fast.

-Covid 19

 

The duration of the Flood

Ali Baba's thieves

What is sung in the tute

And much more on the Covid 19.

-Quarantine

 

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THE ROGUE CROW AND THE LIVING SKULLS

         Smiling skulls, and not so smiling, I saw the rogue Crow, just like me, on the wall of the balcony of a terrace at the CAB Museum, making out Calle Fernán González, in Burgos, where masks came and went as undead, euphoric, singing and dancing the funny Death, not knowing how much is funny, except for that clerical gossip for slime idiots that announces this: "Death is the source of life and hope."

         Halloween or Day of the Dead smells of rouge, paints, artificial blood, highlighting the colors red and black; and flowers, many flowers, with the smell of a cemetery.

         Skulls and skeletons of all sizes, shapes and colors, remember their dead, without sadness or longing, because they are well where they are; but, knowing that, in the desert of this life; today with the plague of the Coronavirus, death is the way of peace. For this reason, in Spain, as in all the countries of the Globe, there are armies that boast in calling themselves: "Bride and Groom of Death."

         Once sitting in front of the spiers of the Cathedral, and leaning on a table, I began to draw a postcard for my dream girl, pilgrim of the World with me, who offered me her friendship and, on the paths of Love, always gave me her delicacy without question.

         Behind the wall, on the ground floor of the Museum, there is an orchard with a fig tree, which is a heavenly Easter fig tree, since it produces figs shaped like glans and nipples, a real delicacy.

         I have finished the drawing. I have turned the postcard over, to put the address of my girl, who is doing an "Erasmus" in Hannover, Germany, where she has gone to learn German.

         Right after the postcard was finished and left on the table, I got up to go to the wall and look at the fig tree again.

         Being in this uncomfortable posture, the rogue crow, runing me over timet, went to the table and took the postcard, flying to the roof of a house opposite, without releasing the postcard from its beak.

         I wanted to show it my bad mood, insulting it; but no I didn't. Since I read the Edgar Allan Poe’s "The Crow”, I have always admired this bird and more, since I was at the Segovia Council Seminary, always dressed in black cassocks, and where the Segovians called us "crows" or "rooks".

         I let it go with my postcard; well, I couldn't do anything else, because I couldn't reach him; and to console myself, I thought that this rogue crow, by a miracle, would go to where my girl is, in Hannover, and drop the postcard at home.

-O good Crow, I shouted firmly while flying, that for my sake you give this postcard to my girl, that I don't want to do so many straws by myself. I appeal to your kindness.

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COATED WITH THE GRACE OF LOVE

She and Me had celebrated Halloween

In a sexual act with our loved one

And, when finished, leaning out the window

Naked as we were

We saw passing one or another one

Disguised with a graveyard slab

And singing:

“Adóro devóte, latens véritas

Te qui sub his formis veris látitas:

Tibi ser con meum totum súbicit

Quia te contémplans totum déficit.”

While me, at this iconic event

From the asses’ folklore

I started to brush her genitals

Ahead and behind

Singing:

"Pange, lingua, gloriosi

Corporis mystérium

Sanguinisque pretiósi

Quem in mundi prétium

Fructus ventris generósi

Rex effúdit gentium ”.

-In your fresh meadows, I spill, my Love

I told.

-Your kisses are food

Your staff, my Love, she answered me.

-You, my love, you are the strength of my life

Resurrection guarantee

I answered her, runningto the bedroom

Where from a gift box

I took out a bud of red rose

In its midst, an orange glans

Orange caramel

That she sucked on the hoop she was wearing

In the spike of his tongue.

Also, I gave her a rope puppy

That dragged a cart

Who carried a flowery penis and mushroom

Among blue daisies.

She joyfully grabbed me by the prick

And without thanking me

She told me:

-Like the wheat in the fields

Make from my flesh bread

As the vine branch

Blood of my immortal pussy.

-Yes my love, I answered

As a bird carrying its spur to its nest

As a son lost to his home

Let's Enjoy Love!

You give me the tartar and froth

From your big and small lips

I give you milk and bread.

The rope puppy

Who also sang, recited:

"To the Banquet of Hope

(Her name is Esperanza)

Love summons us

(My name is Love).

Like smiling skulls

With their naked bodies

Dancing, singing and with party Love

On the bedroom bed

Impregnate the bedroom

With that strong smell

To tiger and telltale

Coated with the grace of Love.

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VIRUS CROWN, PAINFUL PLAGUE

Painful pneumonic plague

Corona Virus –Covid 19

You bring grief to a people suffering

Gag, low wages, evictions.

Chest pain that suffer

Patients of high-risk, chronic

And silent the sad sorrow of the hospital

Because they abandon us

Without saying goodbye.

The good doctor’ s drama

Not finding the damn bacteria

To combat the gross comedy of death

A farce of the living who must die.

Pain in men and women

Relentlessly oppressed

Tiredness of arms and legs

Headache and brains

Based on so many recommendations

To the bitter stroke of the poor

Or the very poor unhappy.

The weeping of those who sign a Will

In mortuaries that add failures

When the light earth or the cross

Kill love.

Global poverty of many and so many

Witout antidote or vaccine on the hands.

Wo/Men rights

Truncated into bordoise thistles

Or farting wolf.

We only have the hand of the doctors

Nurses and assistants

Love wonder

On this global altar of pain

Called Covid 19.

 

TRES EN RAYA CON CORONAVIRUS

TIC TAC TOE WITH  CORONAVIRUS

MORPION AVEC CORONAVIRUS

 

UNO ONE UN

ŃVISUS VIRUSŃ (IROS VIRUS)

GO AWAY VIRUS Ń

VA-T’EN VIRUS Ń

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DOS TWO DEUX

EL OLOR DE LOS PIES ESPANTA EL VIRUS

THE SMELL OF FEET SCARES THE VIRUS

L'ODEUR DES PIEDS MARQUE LE VIRUS

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He: Removing the tartar from my feet,

the smell of bad cheese scares the virus away.

 

Le: Enlever le tartre de mes pieds,

 l'odeur de mauvais fromage fait fuir le virus.

 

 TRES THREE TROIS

ņCOMO VAS CORONAVIRUS?

HOW YOU’RE GOING CORONAVIRUS?

COMMENT āA VA CORONAVIRUS?

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She: How are you Covid?

Elle: Comment vas-tu Covid?

 

Covid: Even if you have me in front,

you can never catch me.

 In me you’ll see Virus’ reflections

 that are fucking you.

 

Covid: Mźme si vous m'avez devant,

 vous ne pourrez jamais me rattraper.

En moi, vous verrez des reflets du virus

qui vous baisent.

 

© Daniel de Culla

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Daniel de Culla is a writer, poet and photographer. He is a member of the Spanish Writers Association, Earthly Writers International Caucus, Poets of the World, (IA) International Authors, Surrealism Art, and other groups. He is director of the Gallo Tricolor Review and the Robespierre Review. He has participated in many festivals of poetry and of theater in Madrid, Burgos, Berlin, Minden, Hannover and Geneva.  He has exhibited in many galleries including Madrid, Burgos, London and Amsterdam. He moves between North Hollywood, Madrid and Burgos; e-mail: gallotricolor@yahoo.com