Daniel De Culla Poet Free verse

AFTER FIFTEEN DAYS

AFTER FIFTEEN DAYS
After fifteen days, we voted
And all of us, like fools, so happy
We dreamed that another government
Will bring us back our stolen or lost wallets
Or the keyring that the locksmith 
In the neighborhood made for us again
And that there will be no more rapes or robberies.
How foolish we humans are
To think that we will be rid
Of the psychopathic serial killers
Just because we voted
For the criminal bandit of the moment
Supported by the protected banker
And the hypocritical and obscene Church.
How many kingdoms, provinces, or countries
Are hanging by a thread
At the whims of two serial killers
Very skilled with weapons and crime
Who have us all terrified.
Very skilled, having learned
In carnival booths shooting at straws
Or in clay pigeon shooting competitions.
These serial killer criminals
They feel like kings
They wave like popes
Dancing like donkeys
Farting like the Roman or Evangelical papacy
Saying unanimously:
-You can eat them with your own bread, people.
The bad thing is that all these murderers
Are followed by a horde of youth
Who couldn't care less about history
And they offer themselves here and there
To the evil deeds of this or that crook
To their lies or schemes
Delighting in insults and outbursts
Ignoring that, by calling someone
"Son of a "
They are offending their own whore of a mother
Without giving any importance
To the illustrious feats and wonders
That their fathers and grandfathers performed
To achieve a nation
Without crimes or duels.
Now, I remember what my friend
 Virgilio Cardenal told me
Upon leaving the Segovia Seminary:
-Santiago Caballo Blanco
When he was greeted as a saint
In his triumphal entry
In Santiago de Compostela
He said to the canons and cardinals
Gathered there:
-You have sanctified a donkey.
Juana de Caleruega
In the province of Burgos
Historic municipality for being the birthplace
Of Saint Dominic of Guzmán
Founder of the Dominicans
And his most sinister inquisitors
She told her son before going to vote:
-Be careful, son, who you vote for.
Look, on every ballot
There's Ali Baba disguised
With his forty thieves.
-Aren't you voting, Mother?
-I'm not voting, son. I dance like Trump.
Look!
-Ha, ha, ha. Mother, I'm going to vote
The fifteen days have already passed. 
That, at worst, they'll hire me
And deduct my salary.

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment