FROGS’ LOVE | Donald Trump poetry | Trump Poems

 

Kylian C’ photo

FROGS’ LOVE

In a week without Thursday

My grandson brings to the pond

On Paseo de la Isla, Burgos

Two beautiful frogs to see

If they love each other

And they raise, as he says, “little frogs”

Tadpoles.

In my carelessness

A gentleman has passed

One of these with bad intentions

Perhaps a pedophile

Very similar to Rancรฉ

French Abbot of Paris

Reformer of the Trappist order

And he told him:

-Beautiful young boy

 I would give you a box of chocolates

Like these from Chocolates Trapa

From Dueรฑas, Palencia

If you come with me

To the “Miguel de Cervantes” Municipal Library

To view and search the books

Of Rampant Dinosaurs

With feet resting on the ground

The raised body

And the hands in the attitude of grasping or taking

That I know you like them a lot.

The gentleman “Calambre”, as they call him

Bent over, ready to touch him

Saying to himself:

-Never better occasion

Well, his grandfather is pissing

Hidden behind that Plane tree

 Dominican tree.

Standing in these words

The grandfather came to the child

Changing “Calambre”’  color.

-What's wrong with you, you old bastard?

I said.

Crows gouge out your eyes

And snakes your heart.

If you have a fever

Approach that individual

Rough, disheveled, vulgar

That he is touching his ass

And what he cries out for

Sitting on that bench

That he wants to lie with a man.

And if not, go to the block

Of the Spanish and Leonese Language Institute

And do what your father told you to do

When you wanted to have fun with your sister.

That “Retort” that I guessed in its fly

It is worthy of being hunted and killed

By the hunters of the mountains of Leรณn.

Go to hell!

Take your grandmother, your daughter

Teach it better.

Or your son-in-law, or your neighbor's boy

That he grabbed it with his hand

Taking you to his house

Giving you a good beating

That your bones were dislocated.

Leave the frogs alone

Let them begin to Love

Fuckercok sucker pig bastard¡

My grandson smiling.

-Daniel de Culla

Daniel’ photo


SANTA ‘S GIFT TO TRUMP

Advantages of joining a church

Catholic or Protestant

Because they give you good food:

Consecrated hosts

Tasting as Red Kite’s feathers

Or beggar fart food.

The biggest donkey

And well known in the world

The famous Trump “made in the USA”

Whom many people admire and venerate

And to whom  do they follow

As Miley from Argentina

Or that Bolsonaro from Brazil

And all that crowd of outspoken people

Or simply fascists

He “the Tubes”  has spoken to us

From one of his hotel towers

Praising man telling us:

-Me, that think with the rectum

From my conscience and talent

 I speak to you

And, honestly, I tell you

And treat you like what you are:

Real donkeys.

That, by my asnal instruction

And my talent with donkey ears

Santa Claus “Santa” gave me a good gift:

“A beautiful woman's ass”

The one I want to be attracted

To fhe fire of Hell.

An ass like those have enjoyed

Like the king of Spain

And all the kings of the miscellaneous dynasties.

A huge female ass

Similar to what many women have taught

In movies or cabarets.

I tell you, and I must repeat it:

That it is only mine.

Like my ass that, now, I show you.

Good sirloin!

That priors of convents please so much.

I must repeat it:

It is just mine ¡

That it is  known and don't forget

Especially the earners

Of the different monarchies

And all the stupid people. You¡

Bray whoever You want seeing it

Or talk about it in gatherings or schools

I don't mind.

What matters to me

Is that World knows that a woman's ass

Is helpful, useful and convenient

That has inspired all the Poets

All serial killers

And all Warlords

What there is and has been

Staying safe and satisfied

When any of them have heard and tasted

A woman's little fart

After Orgasm.

Also, I tell you

That a man’s ass

Is a good thing of course

Although I haven't tried it.

Or yes? He he.

I don’t know. Do you see it.

-Daniel de Culla

Isabel G. de Diego’s photo

A MOLE, A CRICKET AND A SNAIL

Angel had just plowed the land

With two gentle oxen

When these and him, as a servant

Saw the master who saw them

And, kindly, telling them:

-Good morning, Angel.

And good morning for the oxen too.

-The master has it so good.

“Moo moo” murmured the oxen.

The master sat next to a rock

Which was a stolen ruin

To the Templar Convent

From Villalcรกzar de Sirga, Palencia.

รngel does not remember if the master fell asleep

Or he pretended to be asleep

But he saw him unbutton his fly

Noticing that he took out two eggs

And a hardworking guy

Because it moved without hands.

The master, still asleep, said to himself:

-No one helps me

To fulfill the most turban work

Only the king of heaven

That he will bring me by the hand

Two beautiful maids I have

The one, first class milker

The other, with ewer and basin

To wash my eggs and pingo (prick).

Standing in these words

Angel and the oxen saw in admiration

To two beautiful young women who approached him:

The milker began to milk him

The erect penguin

Taking advantage of the moment to ride it

Like someone riding a horse

While the washing machine

He made a furrow in the ground

To bury the subsequent orgasm

Cover it with earth

Pour the water from the washing.

When they finished their work

The milker, going to the master's house

Left crying with joy

To tell her lady

That her husband was a saint

Because he fucked, even asleep like a donkey

Singing the palinody of what happened.

The washing machine, who was a gossip

She ran down to town

To tell the townspeople

That the master’ love is divine

Well, he has two eggs and a penny

The twos beautiful

Very similar to the clapper

Let the cathedral bells ring

Without help from the sexton

Being him more older than Methuselah!

Antediluvian Patriarch.

รngel, the farmer, out of filthy envy

Made the two oxen, in turn

Licked his dick

Until he ejaculated stupidly

About a mole, a cricket and a snail

With some skill

Without trying to reach them

For its clear excitement quickly

That he made the oxen bite.

-Daniel de Culla

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