*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
Departure: The Poetry of Theodorus J. van Joolen Page 2