Rien ne va plus – English

The poem ‘Rien ne va plus’ appeared bilingual in a travelling art project called bestbefore.nu – 2011-2012. My audio-(art)installation was a part of this.

AUDIO Rien ne va plus, 2008 (English version)

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on tempting athletic legs

three thousand metres women
at the interval

from Hellenistic stillness
the wrestlers in their match-wear
in wrestling-rings

spring sweating in sight

not my cup of tea

these dripping men
mirrored in cash-hungry eyes of some wolf men
homo homini
lupus est

a booming economy ready for jump-off
enrichment that changes to loss

increasing sick mother discovers
amounts of new lovers
while she deceases

roving where nourished
and brought-up for growth

and what is still unused
bestowed as alms upon the poor
with a cynical smile

forced by the pressure of heath
and fondling of wind
the fully blown buds on the Kronos

‘no fairer maidens ever …’

folded out from young mans dreams
with honeysoft wrinkles in their skin
on the lens

licking the loins
on barter salt
liquorice and fisherman’s friend
spooled about by tongues
along the inner cheek
the wet palate
and gleaming lips

than biting suddenly
the northern teeth
in warm poor southern meat

the sea-weed hanging from the skull
shoven gently
behind ears

for a few dollars more
in an upstairs room
above the habitual cafe

the failing recognition
where drunk the greyish age
wears down the days with ridged nails
and niggles stray at beer mats


in which the trees write stories
on anything blown over seas

on ponderous employment
and dengue in the tropics

the Christianizing clang of arms

and hidden traumatic accent
of the Untermensch

doldrums in Jonathans head
and Joseph beating the hot stiffing air
in this pendulous hour
distorting the depth of perspective

counting stars in the tropical night
the blazing ones
that fell

slowly the system crumbles down
with maintenance showing its teeth
armed to the teeth indeed
but powerless now
as due to parodontitus

the cock of the walk
named vulgar Darwinism
crowing around amidst the prey

and procreates in his dance
once more
a stock market ready for slaughter

rotation of Rossi
with funds in destructive combustion
predicts a collapse of the system

while voices in twilight
against all current signs
convinced of long-term gain

in small fancy cellphones
tin-kettle supported
their songs of enticement
on ever more greed

hard hearted and loveless

just before dawn
in sloppy lantern-light
the long skipped memory
of some consoling tropical rhythms
an evening breeze
this steely knife in town
where now the primitive shrieks
by ever so happy gamblers
throw themselves upon

the lessons learned
sound propagates itself

insurance now is bitterly disturbed
in fornicated shipments to the East

the lighthouse on the right hand
on left the harbour-light

she casts a glance upwards
and sees ascending smoke
years ago

years also

day after day
there is this landing on her shores
with lots of suspicion brought into bed

until she orders herself
to take rest

a rusty barbed wire fence
she kisses all trough the forest

a border line
a traced out older age
as a protected area

not seeing her grandchild

she tramples down the autumn leaves – careless
and wounds her pride brown skin

wherever she turns herself
against life

in her penniless years

in monetary pressure
and in its limitation
the rapid rejection of fading alternatives

embedded and forged to entirety
in theories that cohere
with speculation
with sentiments
alarmingly directed to the people

in times of regression
and restriction
of each man for himself
and god save the ice-caps
in sheer simplicity
spread out over us all


and drop our intellectual possessions
at charity hand-outs

asking in times of misfortune
the guiding government of grace
for mercy

we dictate
and speak out
with words like urgency programmes

expressed in deconstruction
during a press conference

modest sound of voices

for a political process goes on
breaking all rules

awaiting the night fall
when darkness conceals
the shifting in thinking

the NGO ‘Consumers without borders’
protects in its camps
the victimized masses
“we have our healers anywhere”

an ecological tourist
broods on revenge out of honour

in the Casino Royale
I urgently take off
my empty trousers-pockets

all worn into holes

© 2008, Adrie Krijgsman, Assen NL

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