The General Inquisitor
What a great awakening has!
Throwing an abbess from his bed
That was not born of Mary
And, hugging his stiff prick
Praises the heavenly father and his beloved Son
Thanking the joyful glory of his prick
For raping four Witches
From among the most beautiful
To spread hosts or bread
Because he throws the ugliest
To the minions, canons of the Cathedral
To the pigs and the dogs.
Raping four agnostics and five heretics
Worthy of being whipped and humiliated
Crushing the eggs
Putting them an Easter candle by the Ass
While stealing and expropriating
Their earthly possessions
Under death threats at the stake
Or in the shackles
To give them to the King and the Church.
This glory day, also
He had fucked seven blasphemous novices
By bringing them to the eternal day of their lives
Among the flames of other fires
And that, for being glorifying her Cunt
That Cunt that gives us Life
It makes us funny
And it is the joy of slime fools.
This General Inquisitor
After well marinate
The naked bodies of the Witches
Beautiful bodies between his hands raped
With his stale and rotten sperms
He brought them to the eternal day of their glory
Burning them at the stake.
When the sun sets
Contemplating, erect and disengaged
Stroking his prick
How the hairs of their cunts burnt
And those of the alveoli of her nipples
In this position
Singing to the Father and the Son
And to the Holy Spirit
He wrote a “Treaty on Romanesque Art
And the Gothic Art ”
Affirming that: Romanesque art
Had been created by architects
Inspired by the chesnut sellers
And their pretty chestnuts
Seeing that they were all good
Because they participate in the glory of the Father
And that gothic art had occurred to them
Seeing the flames of the fires
That rose to Heaven
Dragging between threads of fire
The souls of the Witches.
This morning of proceedings was clear
And, before the awful burning was celebrated
With Easter clarity
The General Inquisitor was heading to his Cathedral
And once in the bell tower
He picked up the clapper of the bell
That was ringing
Placing it imposing his prick on her
Making her sounding.
All the believer people that to the false light deliver
Composed of fearful and conspicuous devout women
That come with pleasure as soon as they see him
Or guess, happy
That it is his carnal light that refuses them
And of criminals Font pissers defenders at all costs
Of so macabre burning for God and for the Church
In St Vitus’s dance looking for him
Because his inquisitorial presence is ardent
Without meridian or border.
For all of them
This criminal and murderer General Inquisitor
Was a wicked saint, column of the Aurora
Announcing his greatness at night
By the light of the fires.
From his episcopal balcony
He blinded the sun with his sperms
And to the moon gaves candle
For lighting the desert and its sands.
He closed the night of the fires
With scorched Witches’ bodies
Like sackcloth of darkness
That for his people it was a blessing
See sunrising over the roofs of their houses
So much smog in embers
Smelling of singed horsehairs and pigs.
The General Inquisitor, meanwhile
In his episcopal palace
Watches his prick watching
Tooking fire from the bowels of his eggs
And between the sheets
Aurora flipping over
“Husband Jesus come suddenly.
Go out to meet the Witches
That in the forest, naked, are dancing
With green bouquets
Singing to the horned God
And the mother Moon.
Bring to my presence
And blasphemous novices
That have a shit at the door of your banquet.
Fires await for them.
How cry their scorched eyes
That won’t be able to see you!
-Daniel de Culla