Poetry from Daniel De Culla

Dead gray pigeon lying on a concrete sidewalk with leaves and a post and someone's shoes in the corner.

Poor pigeon  that
Because of that scream or clamor so resonant
Of murderous and criminal wars
That echo in the valleys and on the hills
Died of fear and horror
Without any God of any damn Religion
Has come to its aid
And has done, because they say that he is almighty

Once and for all
Than to these war criminals
It backfires on them and blows their faces off.
As always, all God is protector of tyrants
Inspiring journalists and writers
To praise the cruelest and most murderous generals
So that these can elevate them in secrets
And hug them on their asinine chest.
How beautifully they speak of these cruel tyrants

State Terrorists
And with what bad attitude 
They speak of those baptized in terrorism
For these same
Whatever they say for some admired ones or others.
Deaths, crimes, wars
They serve God, the King or Caesar
Because the misfortunes and graces of victories and defeats
Are debtors of the blood shed.

Poor pigeon, no obscene and lying God
Will have it in his holy glory
Well, what it means to die is to die
Because of a missile, a bomb or a shot in the back of the head
Knowing, there is no doubt, that sometimes
From small wars big wars are born
And other battles and battles like that
For the good of the multinational arms companies
And of the warlords

That, with their navels full of crumbs
For those feasts and feasts that occur
They grunt like pigs, piglets, piglets
Hogs, sparrows, pigs
While watching on television
How their fellow citizens of the World kill each other.
DamnĀ” that your criminal excellence

Pope of Rome likes him because of the growl he makes
Of joy and happiness seeing
To this his people, to our people
Dead or bled to death on the ground
Like this pigeon that was alive yesterday.
It is not enough for me to affirm it
It is enough to verify it with examples in situ.

-Daniel de Culla