Clinton V du Plessis launches Flitse at Karoo Writers Festival

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The poetry launch of Flitse by Clinton V du Plessis took place at the third Karoo Writers Festival in Cradock, in the gardens of Albert House. The book was introduced by poet Melt Myburgh.

The sunny gardens at Albert House, where the launch took place

 

 

Left to right: Clinton V du Plessis, Almore Cupido of the Holy Rosary Convent in Cradock, and poet Melt Myburgh

 

 

Flitse by Clinton V du Plessis

 

 

Melt Myburgh introducing Clinton V du Plessis

 

 

Clinton V du Plessis let rip with sharp socio-political commentary.

 

 

Lisa Antrobus-Ker (organiser of the festival) thanking Clinton V du Plessis

Poems by Clinton V Du Plessis:

Drie love songs vir Azania

“America I’ve given you all and now I’m nothing.”
Uit: America deur Allen Ginsberg

The revolution will be sold to the highest bidder

ladies & gentlemen
comrades, ex-comrades, fallen comrades, disgraced comrades,
nieces, nephews, cousins, children & spouses of people with undue influence in high places,
intermediaries in arms deals / beneficiaries of off-shore trusts,
holders of mineral rights in war-torn countries,
tenderpreneurs / members of the predatory elite / com-tsotsis
empowerment billionaires / recipients of ill-gotten gains & structured profits
newly-wed functionaries of the developmental state,
owners of exclusive wine estates & game lodges,
stakeholders in joint ventures/preferred bidders/disillusioned communists,
role players & strategic partners,
friends of the revolution: amandla!
the revolution is for sale, thus, the revolution will be sold
like a commodity, to the highest bidder,
thereafter it will be housed in a special-purposes vehicle and listed on the jse, the nse & the lse,
the revolution will be televised, like a reality show
on dstv & other paid channels,
the international rights will be sold to cnn & fox,
but the poor will not be able to watch the revolution from their corrugated tin shacks,
however, the revolution may be viewed on a big screen on mandela square
& some of the fan parks,
the revolution will be financed by the unpaid wages to the unemployed masses,
& any deficit from the national budget,
however this contribution may not exceed 4% of gdp,
(the revolution may be outsourced to china)
the revolution will be exclusively worn like cucci,
the revolution will taste like sushi,

the revolution will be endorsed by lady gaga,
the revolutionaries will copulate on piles and piles of dollar notes,
the revolution will screw the nation into silent submission,
the revolution will be sniffed like cocaine, by the teaspoons full, in boardrooms,
from the booties and boobs of babes blinded by bling,
the revolution will sleep in five-star hotels,
the revolution will be brutally raped like a three-year-old baby,
the revolution will be exclusively worn like cucci,
the revolution will taste like sushi,

the revolution will be fought by unarmed men in italian suits with shaved heads & deep, deep pockets
& bodyguards & bankers & lawyers & ex-security force members & spokespersons,
the shit of the revolutionaries will
be recycled and bagged by a chinese consortium
& will be distributed to the rural areas
to be used as manure by emerging farmers,
the revolution will be branded & sold like bottled water,
like air-conditioned luxury german sedans,
the revolutionaries will, cigar in the mouth, cock in the hand,
empty their arrogant bladders filled with the most expensive imported whisky,
they will empty it on the graves of luthuli & tambo & sisulu,
on the shattered dreams of the forgotten ones who died way back, way too young,
the revolution will be exclusively worn like cucci,
the revolution will taste like.

die revolusie begin op die plase

die kinders skype op sondae
uit kanada, koud
bewe die beelde
bons die stemme van die mure terug
die kleinkinders se monde
vorm die woorde vreemd & ongemaklik,
onafrikaans glimlag hulle,
hulle ken nie die
lekker bollemakiesie van die taal op die tong:
klouter, kleuter & kielie,
koggelmander & kwikstertjie,
oupa se hande wens om vir
die seuntjie
’n draadkar te maak
die mik van ’n kettie te laat voel
die knapie op sy knie te laat sit,
ouma leun oud in die kamera in
haar bril soek dof die sproete op die dogtertjie se neus,
later sou hulle op die internetweergawe van die sondagkoerant
al die detail lees,
hoe die drie mans, onderskeidelik 16, 18 & 20
die ou man
vasgebind het,
hom met die gloeiende strykyster die kluis se kode laat onthou,
later moes hy kyk hoe hulle die ou vrou
oopmaak & elkeen
by haar ingaan
hy het sy oë & siel toegeknyp
voordat hulle die sneller teen sy kop afgetrek het
die polisie het die verminkte lyke eers laat die
maandagmiddag gekry
een van die aanvallers
het kordaat bo-op die swart stinkhouttafel in ’n spierwit bord gekak
hulle’t van kanada ingevlieg,
die plaas in die mark gesit,
die as saam met hulle teruggeneem
& nooit, maar nooit, weer oor
grandpa of granny
of
that god-forsaken fucked-up country
gepraat nie.

die govemint se ma se ...

sy was op tik
sê sy,
het haar tweeling verloor as gevolg van tik,
haar suster strip nou iewers in die stad vir tik,
& haar broers moer die meubels & vensters as hulle nie kan tik,
nie,
daar bo is die broken palace, dié is die madhouse, sê sy
haar ouer broer & suster is in valkenberg, van tik,
sy kyk agter haar baby suster,
somtyds kry sy kos, somtyds kry sy nie
dan moet hulle net so gaan slaap,
maar, wat is tik?
wou die voormalige staatspresident weet
in manenberg is daar ’n kerk waar hulle tik
nie ’n ware kerk, maar ’n stuk maaksel van gehawende sink,
want blykbaar is almal hier op tik
die daddies tik,
die mammies tik,
die hondjies tik,
die katjies tik,
maar, wat is tik?
wou die voormalige staatspresident weet
’n dealer maak R100 000 per dag as hy wholesale tik
verkoop
& die polisie kyk vir R5 000 of R10 000 weg
die polisie & govemint se aandag is gefokus
op hoe jy kan pocket, vertel hy,
nog een tik
so drie pakkies tik
’n dag klaar
& wil jy uit
is daar net een manier uit
& dit is met jou lewe.
sedert 1994 het nie veel verander nie, nou tik
ons maar,
ons kry nie werk nie, nou tik
ons maar,
die skole lyk en voel nog dieselfde, nou tik
ons maar,
die klinieke is steeds oorvol, nou tik
ons maar,
die huise val steeds uitmekaar, nou tik
ons maar,
die keer het die govemint geskommel
& die dice het op manenberg geval,
dis maar al.
maar, wat is tik?
wou die voormalige staatspresident weet.

* Hierdie gedig bestaan hoofsaaklik uit grepe geneem uit ’n artikel van Willemien Brümmer oor Manenberg, getiteld Welcome to the peaceful land, in By, bylae tot Die Burger van 18 April 2009, ble 4 en 5.

Click here to see Etienne van Heerden's photo documentation of the Karoo Writers Festival.

Also have a look at Menán van Heerden's photos of LitNet Youth Indaba, launched at this year's festival.

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