IanwithBook-600x800The theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method poem is “Dishevelled People“.
Good afternoon Jon, and once again greetings from Coventry

Dishevelled eh? Pretty much describes everyone involved with The Radio Method.
Your themes have a very uncanny habit of reflecting what’s going on in my life and this one’s no exception.

To help pay the rent I’ve spent the last week mucking out three arenas at a horse riding camp, and I can assure you, 82 horses can produce an impressive amount of digestive bi-product – mountains of it in fact.
To describe me as ‘dishevelled’ comes close to a compliment – even the stable dogs won’t come anywhere near me.

The cheeky little buggers riding the horses refer to me as ‘Baldrick’ so I counter by loosening their girth straps while they’re at lunch. No serious injuries – yet!

On the positive side, one of my conditions of employment is I get to keep anything I find, which currently stands at around 7 tonnes – that’s more crap than an Andrew Bolt editorial.

Almost enough to create a scapegoat for the Census fiasco.

If I keep at it for another month there’ll be enough for a Donald Trump speech – well, the opening sentence at least.

There can be worse things in life than ‘dishevelled’.

Dishevelled People

Friday; a park bench; weather fine but fresh
I wrestled with a crossword; seven letters: ‘rotting flesh’

An old couple with a dog sat beside me on the bench
Her dress distinctly timeworn; the dog distinctly French

The ageing gent stroked gently on a Clark Gable moustache
A battered dark blue trilby crowned hair of silver ash

A threadbare suit of quality; a carnation for effect
Stains his fading eyesight could no longer detect

He oozed a musty scent, ringing true the epithet
His wife drew long and slowly on a menthol cigarette

Her make-up thick as render; mascara daubed like pitch
A weathered stole and jewellery best described as fifties kitsch

The poodle, blind and witless; the glory years, long past
Giving the impression each pant could be it’s last

The silence felt uncomfortable; I dredged for something clever
The best I could manage was a reference to the weather

“Looks like summer’s over” I tended with a smile
She dragged hard on her cigarette, gazing skywards all the while

“Summer?” she rasped “what in hell’s name would you know?
Let me tell you darling, summer ended years ago”

End of conversation bar a wheezing, hacking cough
I returned to my crossword as the trio shuffled off

2 down, “Asinine”, starts with I and ends with D
Eight letters, third one’s N – Hey! I think the answers me

© Copyright 2016 Ian Bland


Also have a listen to the songs on “Angel In Reverse

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