Madonna del Prato
Madonna of the Meadow
A painting by Giovanni Bellini
Why are you worshipping
With your folded hands
Your own child in your lap?
You don’t know at this stage
Your child is divine, earthly
Or a child of a devil!
All children when they are born
Are divine to their mothers!
They know well a child comes from God
And if they do well in their life
They become god as well!
Mine I know for sure is a son of God
Because an angel has told me so!
A young girl, later on called Virgin Mary
Lately saw in her dreams unexplainables
And heard voices; then she saw him manifesting
From the thin air, the winged archangel Gabriel
Who, told her that she was going to have a
Virgin Birth, Son of God will be born to her
She was perplexed and did not know
If the message was assuring or reasonable
Or a store of stormy weather ahead!
Could she hold down her sanity,
When her life was meddled by the Divinity?
Where would she go?
To whom she could tell her plight of
What she had seen and heard?
Are the holes showing in the firm firmament?
Or is there need of the needlepoint
For the heaven’s divine but torn garment?
Is the Prince of Peace,
Is the harbinger of War as well?
Does the Tranquillity
Come with the Turmoil?
It was too much for her
Young mind to cope with
She swooned but got up
And forgot it until later years
When events took to the end
That realized her fears.
BED FOR THE NIGHT
I suddenly find myself in the midst of the cold, mean city.
I had no cash – I’d been conned out of it.
I have nowhere to go to, for even the half-heated crypt
Of the church I once frequented is barred against me. Try Hauptbahnhof but the railway police would move me on.
Even if the Police station is warm in its cell –
I would have had to commit a veritable felony-
Breaking window glass would not do any more.
So I keep on walking – walking through the dark, dank alleys, lanes and streets.
Perhaps if I were a girl I’d get a room with someone somehow.
But that’s a divisive sexist remark – have they really got it that good?
Anyway its ageist against me too-
The O.A.P.Hostel only opens on a Friday night.
I’ll just have to WAIT,
And now there’s this wretched snow falling after midnight in midwinter.
I don’t really need a bed for the night – a warm chair would do.
Try out-patients? Try a hotel foyer? Try a police-station reception?
No way – too boring – be moved on anyway?
After all what do you expect from Free Germany?
I don’t want to die from frost bite.
Why don’t I just wrap up?
Anyway I seem to have lost the plot
Please don’t rip up the note paper on which this ‘poem’ is written , man.
The club I could have gone to is for members only.
And they only accept cash which I don’t have anyway.
Besides who’d have an outsider like me?
And if I became one, would I really want to become one?
Heaven knows what the Heaven is
Heaven, heaven, heaven
After all what is the heaven?
Heaven knows what the heaven is!
Nobody really knows
What’s it, what’s its location
What’s it situation, and dominion?
Nobody has come back from it
And told us or written down about it
Heaven to different persons is different
Heaven in different culture and religion is different
It is a differing matter far different
Like the sky from the eart
But it is accordingly some something nice and happy
From tribal world of the remote wilderness
To the civilized world of all mod and cons
Each has their different heaven of happiness
But what gets me down is the idea of heaven
That some religions awards women as heaven
For men for spreading the message of the religion
But I think that there should be a doppelganger culture
In which women are awarded men as heaven;
And then they refuse them on the ground that on earth
Those very men created hell out of their heaven!
La Nasscita Venere
Birth of Venus
A painting by Sandro Botticelli
Sandro Botticelli you wicked old artist!
You know how to put spell on us
And make women very beautiful
Vivacious, seductive to the point of porno
Here Venus is born; you painted
Out of a pearl, out of the ocean
Like a mother of pearl lighted
Within and without
By her own light
Within and without
All her charm hid and reveal
Reveal the woman’s beauty
Of the humanity for the humanity
And our Raison d’être