Wounded angel

The angel was blindfolded, but she knew her fate

“Why do we bury her alive?”
the boy asked
“What did she do?”

The angel was grateful to be carried

“Why us?”
the boy moped
“I wanted Beelzebub,
not a stupid girl.”

“She wounded him pretty badly”
his companion said
“I lost money on that bet!”

I know I wanted to write a poem when I saw this painting. What I don’t know is how I came across the painting. Was it a prompt somewhere? Was it on the app on my phone called Daily art (highly recommend if you’re into art, they come up with both well knows and unknown masterpieces)?

There’s more I don’t know. Did I read A Time to Every Purpose Under Heaven (called A Time for Everything in the US) by the Norwegian writer Karl Ove Knausgård before I wrote this? That book is so strange that you can’t look at an angel the same way after reading it.

The painting holds a sense of mystery, so I guess it fits that my memory is blurred. I’m posting this poem for #NaPoWriMo say 28 in the hope that as many people as possible get to see the beautiful painting by Hugo Simberg: The wounded angel (1903)

There’s no art in that

I guess it’s too late to be a farmer
now that my hands are tied
to the hind legs
of a raging bull

He’s constrained now
but he won’t be
in a minute
when the gates open
after they’ve prodded his balls
with a pitchfork
to

Well, do I need to explain that?

The peasants did not take my art too well
They mind pictures of naked women raping bulls
in their butt hole
more than they mind real life violence

Ultraviolence?
There’s no art in that

I guess it’s too late to be a farmer

On day 12 I wrote a palinode for this poem:  a poem in which the poet retracts a statement made in an earlier poem. It’s called There’s art in that.

More images on this subject can be found on http://www.fscclub.com/muse/sculpture-rape-europa-e.shtml