Departure: The Poetry of Theodorus J. van Joolen

  *Toos is a Dutch nickname for Cathy

  Dodder

  The witches hair is dead.

  Old dodder petered out

  The shrub on which it fed

  Next year will grow and sprout

  A parasite to die

  It knew not how to give

  It sucked the living dry

  No other way to give.

  Dumb

  I’ll be damned for being dumb

  Just a silly charlatan

  Screw religion, the big lie

  Did you ever ask them why

  Wealth is theirs and you are poor?

  How they double deal, you bore?

  “You be good,” the lechers preach.

  “Witches hair! We want to leach.

  We will teach you how to pray.

  Be content. Not in the way.

  Christ was poor, and so be you.

  Riches are for you know who.”

  Bernadette

  A flower from a wheat field

  On a bike to Seattle

  Bernadette and nature’s yield.

  I can see her on Mount Wilson

  Blue skies everywhere.

  Draped with white.

  In the brush a hare.

  Corncobs and silver maple.

  Coastal redwoods, great sequoias.

  River’s ripple.

  War Games

  The hawk, this morning,

  Had talons as big as a cariologist’s.

  The world is stormy.

  I have to learn to use my fist.

  A symbolic gesture.

  Can’t be too kind.

  A hostile tryst.

  Doublebind.

  Sanity

  To forcefeed is like drinking.

  I don’t get anywhere.

  It atrophies my thinking

  Bright eyes become stare.

  The ups and downs of living

  Are felt by all who feel.

  I should be more forgiving

  Without it, there’s no deal

  I am a human being

  Not chained to social class

  My stare will be bright seeing

  If I could cross this pass

  Heredity

  If I am so intelligent

  Why can’t I solve my Rubrick’s cube

  The universe, they say, is bent

  To me it is a hula-hoop

  Environment was bad for me

  No papa put me on my feet

  And worse is my heredity

  Small wonder that my trail is steep

  I’m sunk. But I keep on my hat.

  My depth has never been too deep

  Oh well, it cannot be that bad

  A fawn has taught me how to leap

  Labrador

  On the trail there’s room for you

  Future friend, to walk with me

  Labrador, I’ll care for you

  How to find you, up to me

  Surge the ads, maybe the pound

  How to find you, up to me

  If you’re there, you will be found

  Once I worked, but now I’m free

  Lady Labrador, you run

  I will roam and look around

  You will have a lot of fun.

  When you call me, you’ll be found

  Surge the ads…maybe the pound

  Rest

  No poetry in such a heat.

  The fountain fifty yards away.

  A swig o icecold water.

  A shady spot is all I need

  The mountain’s shoulder for support

  A friendly breeze to cool me off

  And thoughts about an art long lost

  A shepherd’s collar in my hand

  Trouble

  I quarrel with myself,

  Floodlights turned on weaknesses and strengths,

  Instead of on strengths and weaknesses.

  But humanity is that way.

  Not enough architects.

  Wish it were different.

  Warriors, rulers and undertakers,

  Too many of those.

  Past the horizon the same.

  The Kremlin smokes.

  When the button is pushed,

  The signal given:

  Lost the earth.

  Mankind driven

  Out.

  Ups and downs

  It’s hot again.

  Lead in my head.

  The old refrain:

  No teacher’s pet.

  The mountain judge

  Looks stern at me.

  Today: a klutz.

  Fiddle-dee-dee.

  Disappointed

  I went to take a typing test,

  But have not gone electric

  So I departed with the rest

  Things got a little hectic

  The library my working goal

  Not much. But safe and stable.

  The typewriter my chances stole.

  I’m swept under the table.

  Storm

  Debussy’s La Mer

  In the eye of the storm

  Leaping fires

  Formless form

  Flooded, not sinking

  Alarm

  Forgotten forest.

  Robins, orioles, doves

  Ground feeding birds

  A dreamer’s lake

  And then: a snake.

  Idle Hour Trail

  They closed theh trail to Idle Hour.

  The brush could burn in such a heat.,

  One match, and acres disappear

  Nature, while good, can sometimes hurt.

  The trees need many years to grow

  Mistakes are fatal,

  Cannot be corrected

  In forest fires:

  Destruction total.

  Delirium

  Some men have god on their side.

  We must humor them

  Lest they fight the infidel

  My light is mine

  Yours the atrocities,

  The dull explosions,

  The sucking thumbs

  Let’s start our devotions.

  Fever

  And here we are!

  And where are we?

  The answer far

  The will so weak

  The flaws so flawed

  Some hide, some seek

  The coder our stop

  We find out match

  On mountain’s top.

  Gaining Strength

  A psyche bled,

  But getting strong

  The night will see another day

  I haven’t sung my final song

  Nor have I fought the castles.

  Volunteer

  My heart a cheap clock.

  Trustworthy today,

  But tomorrow?

  Can I afford to volunteer,

  Take care of sorrow,

  And not pay bills?

  Reward for work A silver river,

  Plus accessories.

  I shiver

  There are necessities

  So hard to be noble.

  Reductio ad absurdum

  This man must be irrational

  He is too insecure

  I want his pain to be cast out,

  Or find another cure.

  Too many gods,

  Conflicting gods,

  Compete.

  No single God,

  No moral destiny,

  Can live in such a home.

  Such hell delete!

  Music by Jacques Offenbach