Departure: The Poetry of Theodorus J. van Joolen
By Theodorus J. van Joolen
[b. 14 Oct 1922 – d. 1989]
posted by Theo van Joolen [son]
Prometheus
The door is now closing.
It ruins the light.
The wood is imposing.
But it keeps me outside.
No music, no dancing, no ego to spend.
Anonymous shadow, where will you be sent?
Anonymous shadow, when will you be back?
Anonymous shadow, you loco, you dreck!
Anonymous shadow, when and where did you fall?
Anonymous shadow, you meteor’s tail.
Whispers and shivers and moaning outside.
Living and playing and love, where it’s bright.
The shadow is searching for fire, where there’s none.
Prometheus groaning, lamenting a son.
Doubt
Mute adversity.
Crushed existence.
Stale emergency.
Weak resistance.
Is it now, or if, or when?
Rain or storm, to or fro?
Tomorrow, here or then?
Or dead of night,
Dreary dusk?
Show me you’re wrong, you’re right.
Forgotten son.
Eagle’s wings in flight?
Ore are you on the run?
Eternal twosome, foe and friend.
Where I fall down, I stand.
Surfer
Last week I tumbled down a cliff.
Today I walk the mountain.
My limbs feel just a little stiff.
But water goes with fountain.
No longer waiting for Godot.
No longer dreaming in the shade.
The sun looks tired,
It’s getting late.
Tomorrow is another day.
You’re forced to sleep. You want to rest.
Up! Rise once more and go your way,
To ride another crest.
Rallying
To hell with you.
Your brain is sound.
Complaints don’t count.
Go to the zoo.
Or look around.
The sun is up.
Life fills your cup.
Colors abound.
The day is young.
Let’s grow a seed.
A Schubert Lied..
A song unsung.
Lovebirds build nests.
In constant play.
This is the way.
Nobody rests.
Four Letter Words
It makes me sick to be in pain.
The pills don’t help.
I go insane.
Unless I yelp.
My energy is put to bed.
My leg is useless since last week.
My mind caught in a spider’s web.
My anger shows a vulture’s beak.
I want to say an ugly thing.
Like fuck and damn and horse’s ass.
This much I know, I cannot win.,
Unless this nagging pain shall pass.
First ails my heart,
Then fails my leg.
A bad new start.
Yoke on my neck.
But still I live,
And still I breathe.
Stil I can give.
Pain just a tease.
Read Kipling’s “If.”
Laugh pain away.
When you are a stiff,
Small price to pay.
Government
Great Washington D.C.,
Where the imperial “we”
Invite the plebs to tea
And constant sympathy.
Where solemn men decide,
If they will skin your hide,
Or in your throat will bite.
And strangulate your right.
Where etiquette is chic,
When you are in the clique,
Who will exploit the weak,
And play hide and seek.
This gutsy clerk just won.
They got him on the run,
Until his fear was gone.
Now he has all the fun.
Future
The future is an airy whim.
Enchanted house.
You lose, you win.
Are you a lion or a mouse?
Go back to school.
Scholars are in.
You’re not a fool.
Don’t stop, begin.
Or write a book
About your life.
Or take a good look
At your wife.
Your own sweet wife,
Your Catherine.
CSA-2 517 864
A spy has a number,
So why wouldn’t I?
You are no cucumber
Nor wheat, corn or rye.
You grew up a man.
A man with no name.
Your name-tag is gone.
That’s part of the game.
Don’t mumble ‘foul play.’
Or be less than kind.
Your are not insane.
You still have your mind.
Your yes is their nay.
Keep saying your yes.
You still have a say.
Not more they are. Less.
Come on, number one.
You’re so much alive.
Keep dancing Can-can
With Cathy, your wife.
Chin Up
No need to complain,
If falling behind.
You still have your brain.
Why don’t you unwind?
Live life as it is,
Not as it could be.
Toos blows you a kiss.
And this is for free.
Hang in there, my friend.
There’s so much to love.
You don’t need the rent.
You just need your dove.
You’ve always survived
With Toos at your side.
You’ve always revived.
With help of your bride.
So don’t take a dive.
You know how to give.
For you to have life
You just have to live.
Triumph and Defeat
Don’t fret, my heart
Young kids will come
And play their part.
Your days are gone.
You are the one
Who gave them life
Your days are gone.
Just love your wife.
It’s so ordained
Your days are gone.
A soul unclaimed.
An also run.
Your days are gone.
Don’t be ashamed
A job well done.
A life unstained.
Tramp
A tramp you are
You make no sense
Don’t travel far.
Your head is dense.
Second Childhood
To work is for the horses,
In Amsterdam they say.
The people with some sources
Look at it with dismay.
I slaved until the heart attack
And will not, come what may
Once more become a nervous wreck
A victim of man’s fray.
What I enjoy is rather rare
The gist of life, a gem.
The work is done, it’s only fair,
To start where I began.
No More
I do not need a master
/> Who hates this working stiff.
A masochist goes faster
Straight down his owner’s cliff.
I do not need a leader
To send me down the drain.
This junk will find no reader.
The scribbles are in vain.
Baryshnikov
Finch, you dancer in a cage
Teach me how to do it.
I am in a total rage,
Walking, screaming through it.
Fear is sitting on my knee.
Peace is far from near me.
Bitterness my cup of tea.
Ugliness to steer me.
I’m afraid. It is not good.
Many hurts within me.
Stalk now through a somber wood.
Fearful that they see me.
Saint
A saint is a man,
Whose can’t is can,
Whose can is a can’t,
Whose shall is a shan’t.
Who wavers a lot,
Whose yes is a not.
Who wrecks his poor head,
Then wallows in dread.
As time passes by,
He loses his eye.
He loses his tooth.
His knock-out is smooth.
The life of a saint
Makes normal men faint.
It’s sculptured in fear.
He runs like a dear.
Domestic
To be a servant is no plague.
Cure is not needed for this post.
Your dignity is not at stake.
Your master thinks he is your host.
If you bend down.
Don’t bend too much.
You are no longer new in town,
Born yesterday, dumb, or Dutch.
When money clatters in your hand.
Your will to live receives more zest.
You know the virtue of this land.
Why don’t you groom and look your best.
So many rotting in the morgue.
To be a servant is not bad.
You have a plate, a knife, a fork.
Who wants to be a sewer rat?
Do not complain
Do not complain.
It’s all your fault.
You were a pain,
Screeched to a halt,
When you were young.
Some priests came by
You, stagnant pool,
Absorbed their lie.
A prior’s fool.
When you were young.
Smooth talkers smile.
They want you broke.
You drowned in style,
An asshole’s joke,
When you were young.
A preacher’s bore,
A rich man’s meal.
Too late to roar.
The fire you steal,
When you were young.
Scribble
Foam on my heart.
Rabid my soul.
Spaced out, apart.
Mind on the dole.
Poisonous dart
Coming my way.
No ace, my card.
Nothing to say.
Euphoria
Not a sulker I shall be
But a spirit roaming free,
Or sometimes a shady tree.
Finding in myself some roots.
Sorting out my many moods.
Sending birdcalls through the woods.
Losing sight of all my fears.
Drying up the unwept tears.
Opening my closing ears.
Bottlebrushes on my lawn.
In the forest a new fawn.
No more darkness after dawn.
Mother’s Day
My words do not come easy.
They don’t tell me what I feel.
What rests deep down inside me
Will shimmer in my face,
So, Cathy, stay beside me.
The feelings are for real.
Control
Your guards cajole.
Or use a threat.
When they control
Your pants get wet.
A rage grows up,
Fed by unclean.
Don’t drink their cup.
Fight back! Be mean!
No place for docile man on earth.
The lives of servants are too bleak.
In utero, before your birth
Expel the hemlock of the meek.
Remember mole,
Your pants get wet
When guards control
And use a threat.
Bus Ride
I jump from the bus,
An alien spy.
Be silent, no fuss.
No question. No why.
Just walk with steeped shoulders,
And watery nose.
Be humble, no boulders.
You smell like a rose.
I feel unprotected,
A three old day stew.
I have been selected
To serve the frou-frou.
The gates will be open.
Just pee in your pants.
I am a house token.
I have no defense.
Garden
Dig up your fate.
Tear it apart.
It’s not too late
For a new start.
Seeds in the soil.
Sprouts, no more rust.
Water and toil.
Life comes from dust.
Mildew controlled.
Blackspot kaput.
Aphis out cold.
Snails underfoot.
Rum
Rum and coke now circulate
Do I freeze or percolate?
What this means: don’t take the bait.
Better drunken than be staid.
Rum and coke and laziness.
Booze I more or booze I less?
Architects: Resolve this mess.
Does this duns cap wear a fez?
I might have a poet’s heart.
Drunken I won’t come apart.
Sober, I can’t be a bard.
Normal, I will choke in lard.
Poet, break your neck on skis.
Fight the windmills or the trees.
Never work like honeybees.
Run like hell! Don’t sign a lease.
Pilgrim
Pilgrim, round and round you go.
Can’t you draw a straighter line?
Listen! Echo’s say hello.
Don’t you think you are doing fine?
Here a desert. There a marsh.
Miles away a farmer’s field.
Reason, kneel, don’t be so harsh.
Don’t use thinking as a shield.
Bread and water are too far.
Sand and hear wearing you out.
Every pilgrim needs a star.
You don’t even have a cloud.
Yours the choice. Thus, if you will,
Make some progress. Sage or clown.
Cross a river, climb a hill.
Don’t let demons run you down.
Impecuniosity
Impecunious with impunity
Gives integrity to loonity.
Come, you people with depression,
Impecunity ens your sesion.
Shrinks want money and your soul.
Impecunity makes you whole.
Merchants satisfy their greed.
Imepecunity they don’t need.
Friendships dies when you are out.
Impecunity ends your clout.
Impecunity is like fission.
“Pass the hat’ works for religion.
Impecunity’s prize to pay:
Everybody stays away.
Future
No telling what the future holds,
If I can do without it.
Why won’t I throw some thunderbolts.
Or can I do without it?
A little anger will not harm.
Or can I do witho
ut it?
I might impress, spellbind or charm.
Or can I do without it?
A hearty breakfast I may need.
Or can I do without it?
No lunch or dinner? What’s my creed?
Or can I do without it?
The joy of life. The will to live.
Or can I do without it?
Enthusiasm I should riff.
Or can I do without it?
You can’t I say, you can’t, old drunk,
You cannot do without it.
The will to live you cannot junk.
You cannot do without it.
Richard Straus
Quite a repertoire.
Wish I could play the violin.
Is Paris at the Seine, or the Loire?
Or taking Helen.
Death and transfiguration after all?
Am I too small? Perhaps too tall?
Is Troy where wars begin?
Passion unleashed.
Dance of the Seven Veils.
Seductive Salome.
Mistrals and gales.
Pasadena and Eureka
The Eurekans wade through fog.
Pasadenans choke in smog.
In Eureka you get wet.
Pasadenans always sweat.
For Eureka: evergreens.
Pasadena: mountain scenes.
If Eureka is our peer,
She could make it crystal clear.
Pasadena, rain or shine,
For the moment is just fine.
Home is here, it’s for the best.
Give your mind a little rest.
Run, we cannot do from fear.
It is wiser to stay here.
Pax voice
Oracles, altars.
Nectar, ambrosia.
Heady wines and heresies.
Teachers, saints.
Murderous cusades.
Aborted characters.
Prostituted sanity.
Loansharks of faith.
Bankrupted certainty.
Morose ghouls.
Prayers in hell.
Such malnutrition.
Artistic calligraphy.
A Chinese character.
Vermeer’s milkmaid.
A few apologies.
Student at desk.
The working world.
Anchors at sea.
Retreat from yesterday.
A cup of tea.
Ditch Digger
From bad to worse to better.
Who cares? It does not matter.
No stares can do me in.
Cardiologists ogle my pension.
A lush two-sixty per month.
Surgeons under amorous tension.
The rest of the gang to a love convention.
Seductive two-sixty per month.
I am the twiggy of affluence.
Lecherous hospitals:
Every buck is worth a fortune.
Clean money,
Earned with honest work,
In a dirty ditch.
Goodies
Never before
Did we have so much fun
In the grocery store.
But after the Fall,
Since money is scarce.
We’re having a ball.
We walk, straight and tall.
The drivers must stop,
On our way to the mall.
With pennies we pay
Our grocery wealth.
It’s solvency day.
On beautiful ships
No travels for us.
We can’t make such trips.
We look for a way
To pay for the rent.
At home we must stay.
We don’t have a cent.
Feelings
The portraits smile at me,
At home, on Brigden Road.
They kind of set my feelings free.
I’ve earned the right to be afloat.
Feelings will stay
When I must die.
I guess this is how people pray.
If I could talk, I’d tell them why.
Life was not easy at the start.
But walking through it made it good.
My living was done through the heart.
I wonder if they understood.
Moralists
They do exist,
Want it or not.
Inside your mist
You fall a lot.
As long as you
Can’t stand alone,
You have to do
The walkethon.
So join the band.
Dress up and move.
I hold your hand.
Get in the groove.
Daily Bread
When I splash in brackish water,
Peanut butter lures me out.
Wrote about it to my daughter.
She has gone the restaurant route.
Beef pie looks somewhat suspicious.
One pea here, another there.
Over all it tastes delicious.
Meat and water, crust to spare.
Should I ever eat a banquet,
I will miss our daily fare.
In our world who needs a junket?
Give me love and give me care.
Peanut butter, whole wheat bread.
In the gutter it is bad.
This rood stays above my head.
Wonderful to be well-fed.
Alright
Witches hair and lush green oak.
Ground squirrels below the brush.
Beautiful, this cosmic joke.
No one here is in a rush.
Chaparral and succulents.
Brownish moss below my feet.
Stay away from truculent.
Joe, this mountain trip is neat.
Teeth
Five lonely teeth
Stay in my mouth.
This is my beef.
I’m Santa Clause.
No meat to chew.
I feel bereft.
There are so few
Incisors left.
Politics
Reps or Dems, it does not matter,
Sir or Madam, in the booth.
Fats stay fat and will be fatter
Better buy some tennis shoes.
If you think they will not do it,
Look at what they’ve done before.
Grandparents have all been through it.
Jobs will go and then the store.
Ms. Plath
I write this riddle, full or rum
So often tried, but I don’t can.
To fail is comedy undone.
There was no need to lose your tan.
A Good Day
Fog and clouds can’t hold me back.
In the mountains I don’t stall.
Up here no-one breaks his neck.
Robins, bluebirds watching me.
Not afraid of this strange bird
In the mountains I am free.
No-one has to come in third.
Farther up, my future dreams,
Where the air is crisp and clear.
Doe and buck a mountain team.
If they knew me, they’d lose fear.
Cube
Vincent says” “It’s spacial perception.”
Whatever the secret, he must be right.
To do this thing, you have to be an exception.
Or, at least a kid damn bright.
The colors defy me. One has to be prudent.
Six glaring sides. Who wants to tackle?
The permutations confound a bad student.
My frightened nerves defensively heckle.
Relativity
Vince off to the movies.
In different fashion will continue.
It’s important for me to learn from him
The future has arrived.
His horizon, wide.
His vision, twenty-twenty.
Not tone deaf
or colorblind
This is a house of plenty.
Great wealth, the simple way.
Saints
Yerba Santa, gooseberry, monkey flower.
Shown me by my naturalist friend.
Herb tea, sweet fruit, yellow shower.
Aromatic scents, a morning well-spent.
Forward
A feather on the trail
Feet sore
Against the sky, a quail.
Poppies
White poppies
One in two hundred of orange and red
Nourish and care for until out of danger.
Mountain earth and a trickle of water.
Look at the poppies, the ranger said.
Shrink
Mai Tai is a drink
I should give to a shrink.
To straighten him out,
In a beachcomber’s cloud.
Shrink Lollypop Crazy,
He needs to be lazy
In a Freudian dream.
Good riddance for patients
Who are what they seem.
The shrink with a Mai Tai
Has no violent groan,
Mo mental Mi-Lay,
No sickening moan.
Filled up his belly.
Defenseless when drunk.
No power this punk.
Wild turkey and jelly.
Quiet
Unceremonious equilibrium
Nitroglycerine doing its job.
Arteries wide open.
The heart befriends the brain.
No pain.
Blacktail deer have los shyness.
I feel just fine.
Would love to touch them.
Leaving the trail.
Don’t fail.
Dogs Lily and Farina
Remind me of my friend,
The Lady Labrador.
She was my pet.
Don’t fret.
What’s gone is gone.
Can’t get it back.
Look at the distance.
Foret, forget.
I will. You bet.
Go, go
Horse manure and buffalo chips.
Anger bursting from my lips.
If I do not lose my wits,
I’ll transcend those pits.
Second Chance
If I could have a second chance,
And do my life all over.
To no one’s tune I then would dance.
I wouldn’t be a gofer.
No church would mess me up again.
No priest would brand my brains out.
If you are poor, you are in pain.
The selfless get the handout.
You give our love to those you love.
Wealth makes their future brighter
I was an asshole as a dove.
I’d rather be a fighter.
Pass the hat, the cleric says.
God’s command: Just pass the hat.
Clink: The congregation prays.
Everybody: pass the hat.
Give us your dough and you’ll receive.
Drop your greens and pass the hat
The creator you’ll appease
Now, once more, you pass the hat.
Many hats will have to pass
It will stimulate God’s deeds
Sily screwballs: hats must pass
Vulture’s beaks have urgent needs
Those who do not pass the hat
Are not held in high regard
If you starve: still hats must pass
This we told you from the start
Builder
Let’s end this carnage
A tomb over terror
A level never reached before
Acceleration
Moral insanity ossified
A new creation
We know so much
We can’t go wrong
Builders
Three billion strong
Golfer
A golf ball
Soaring in the sky
From El Cajon to Pasadena
A social egg,
Swishing: everyone is insecure.
I know why.
TH egolfer’s egg,
Hatching cars and houses,
Money market funds,
Polluted diamonds,
For peace of mind.
We all mature.
The strong endure.
Deserving club and course.
For me: remorse.
Wedding Anniversary
I saw the mountain top today.
At ten o’clock I took a bath.
The soap and lotion freshed me up.
Two cups of coffee on a tray.
Toos helps a lady, eighty three
To do the shopping near her home.
At noon she’s back. I see her car.
She always wil come back to me.
It’s time for lunch. To strengthen us.
A hot dog on a bun will do.
Then, later, we will play a game.
It’s always fun. We seldom fuss.
I’ll exercise this afternoon
In Stuart Products swimming pool.
Toos meets her friend Elizabeth.
The days go always by too soon.
We sailed together in life’s boat
We always shared our love and pain
To be with her makes me feel good
Thanks to her presence I’m a afloat.
I saw the mountain top today.
At ten o’clock I took a bath
The soap and lotion freshed me up
Two cups of coffee on a tray.