MARK MEEKERS

 

 

Against The Madness

 

Kneaded from tenderness and violence,

from soul or nonsense. With a mouth that

can kiss or bite, caressing fingers or claws

blessing or grimly pulling the trigger.

 

Whoever takes a life doesn't carry the scent

of hero or saint, but lifelong the stench of

a corpse. Hyenas disguise themselves

as sheepherd dogs among the sheep.

 

Samaritans wrap silence in shrouds

of death. Who will plant the mustard seed

of peace in hearts? Only love

 

touches the finest strings, is divinity measured

to human scale, connects and makes accords,

brings things to light. As long as one firefly

glows in the night, there is hope for dawn.

 

TEGEN DE WAANZIN IN

 

uit tederheid en geweld gekneed, uit ziel

of onzin. met een mond die kan zoenen

of bijten, strelende vingers of klauwen die

zegenen of grimmig de trekker overhalen.

 

wie een leven neemt draagt niet de geur

van held of heilige met zich, maar levens-

lang de stank van een lijk. hyena’s vermom-

men zich voor de schapen als herdershond.

 

Samaritanen wikkelen de stilte in doods-

gewaden. wie plant het mostaardzaadje

van de vrede in de harten? enkel liefde

 

raakt de fijnste snaren, is goddelijkheid op

mensenmaat, verbindt en sluit akkoorden,

brengt aan het licht. zolang er in de nacht

één glimworm gloeit is er hoop op dageraad.

 

Faits Divers

 

swamped by a deluge of contempt.

Kicked out of the house like a dog,

walled into a ghetto, sent from pillar to post.

Despair eats deeper than hunger.

 

Overloaded with all the sins of Israel.

The school desks shattered,

Their children in the crosshairs of fear.

As long as eardrums rupture, there is life.

 

The future mowed down with a blunt scythe,

Carried away in blood-leaking ambulances.

Hospitals bombed into tombs.

In death, everyone is equal.

 

From the remains and the memory,

The new avenging angels will rise.

Do not say: We did not know,

But confess: We have no conscience.

 

Faits Divers

 

overspoeld door een zondvloed van mis-

prijzen. als een hond het huis uitgeschopt,

in een getto ommuurd, van het kastje naar

de muur gestuurd. wanhoop vreet dieper

 

dan honger. met alle zonden van Israël

overladen. de schoolbanken versplinterd,

hun kinderen in het vizier van de angst. zo-

lang de trommelvliezen scheuren is er leven.

 

de toekomst met de botte zeis weggemaaid,

in bloedlekkende ambulances afgevoerd.

de ziekenhuizen gebombardeerd tot graf-

kelders. in de dood is iedereen gelijk.

 

uit de stoffelijke resten en de herinnering

zullen de nieuwe wraakengelen opstaan.

zeg niet: wij hebben het niet geweten,

maar beken: wij hebben geen geweten.

 

MARK MEEKERS

 

MARK MEEKERS is the literary pseudonym of Marcel Rademakers. He holds a master's degree in Philosophy and Literature (magna cum laude, KU Leuven) and has published 81 books and brochures (29 poetry collections, 2 novels, 3 art monographs, essay collections, anthologies, and compilations). He has written short stories, reviews, chanson and song lyrics, served on numerous editorial boards of literary magazines, and chaired the jury of a dozen poetry competitions. His poems have been translated, set to music, and included in numerous magazines, newspapers, and anthologies at home and abroad. He was founder and chairman of the poets' collective ‘Mengmettaal’ (1991-2006), chairman of the Dutch-Flemish Association Concept, first village poet of Doel (2007-09), and poetry ambassador of the province of Flemish Brabant (2009). He was guest of honor at the ‘Woordfees’ (Windhoek 2013). He has received countless awards for poetry, essays, and short stories: “Hugo Claus and Mark Meekers are the most awarded Belgian/Flemish poets.” Under his real name, he is active as a painter (abstraction and visual poetry). He was co-founder of the international groups ‘Lumen Numen’ (Antwerp-Brussels, 1967) and ‘Fusion, artistes-peintres du Sud-Ouest’ (France, 1982). He has held 149 exhibitions at home and abroad, including 25 solo exhibitions.