INQUISITION

 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

Not only.

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

With snooze

Watches his prick watching

 Tooking fire from the bowels of his eggs

And between the sheets

Aurora flipping over

Loudly praying:

“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

Agnostics,  heretics

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