Photo By Jools Thatcher

The theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method poem is “The Human Form”.

JVG , 3RRR  and the National Gallery conspired to  have us in for the End Of Summer and do  a live to air show. It was great fun

Ed Bates on the guitar this week

The audio will be along eventually (live to airs are tricky things)

The Human Form

“Arty types, those Bennett’s”
Old Man Richards sneered
Observing his new neighbour
Clad in skivvy and a beard

“Pinkos too” he snarled
In his smoke and beer steeped drawl
Spying, three flying ducks, hung
Descending on the wall

The only work of art
To adorn the Richards home
Was “Goodbye cruel world” emblazoned
On the lid that graced their throne

“Art” he barked with feeling
“Is watching Coleman kick for goal”
“Mona Lisa by De Vinci?
Pig’s Arse – it’s sung by Nat King Cole”

The Bennett’s soon made friends
Despite Old Man Richard’s fears
In fact, many more than him
And he’d lived there forty years

Renee and Max, their children
Quickly meshed into the scene
Kids flocked to the Bennett’s house
To ride their trampoline

Not ‘Pig’ Mills who found absurd
Such strenuous recreation
Not “Squirrel’ Tyrrell who broke his leg
Riding the Richard’s Alsatian

Those two explored the Bennett’s study
Books from floor to ceiling
Philosophy, history, politics, art
Nothing ‘Pig’ found remotely appealing

He flicked through a book on sculpture
Bored and exasperated
Then froze at the Statue of David
Studied it, captivated

Perplexed, “Pig’ slowly raised his head
“This Angelo fella’s sick”
“Why bother carving such a mammoth sculpture
Then give him such a tiny dick?”

An album of nudes attracted his interest
Goya, Degas, Anders Zorn
‘Squirrel’ in awe of the artistic talent
While “Pig’ viewed its merits as porn

He was disappointed the crutches were hidden
Cloaked, he assumed, by a wig
‘Squirrel’ explained it was just pubic hair
Which came as a bombshell to ‘Pig’

‘Pig’s’ anatomical knowledge was skewed
By a ‘Playboy’ his cousin Hans stole
In the sixties crutches were air brushed
Featureless, smooth as a doll

“Squirrel” consumed by wonder
Discovered new realms in that book
As though all the world’s wisdoms could be told in a word
A life expressed in one look

Those insights, at once, ruthless and caring
The flesh torn free of the shell
A solitary frame plucked from a film
Reveals more than the movie can tell

Robbed of their right to veil their true being
In movement, in change, unopposed
Every emotion, bias, intent
Every strength and flaw lay exposed

‘Squirrel’, his passion awakened
Would soon find voice in the arts
He saw beyond the pendulous breasts
To the sum of all the parts

While ‘Pig’, never a “Big Picture” person
Unless the “Big Picture” had tits
Made no attempt to appraise the sum
Simply gloried himself in the bits

Blind to the grace of the fingers
The compassion etched in the smile
All ‘Pig’ could see was a plump, juicy, rump
Bugger composition and style

Happy to splash in the shallows
Like a dog ruled by its fleas
“Pig” watched “Squirrel” discover the forest
While he swung round in the trees

Masked by familiarity
The extraordinary becomes the norm
The mysteries of the human condition
Can be glimpsed in the human form

© Copyright 2010 Ian Bland

All credit to those who organised, participated and turned up – the pubs in the vicinity of Parliament House must have done a roaring trade.

Below is a copy of the poem I recited at the rally and I hope those in power finally realise the damage they have already caused music in this town and depth of feeling simmering in the suburbs should they not choose to address the issues adequately.

S.L.A.M Rally

Played at the Lomond, Sunday night gone
To a handful, two dozen – give or take
The bouncers, pleasant fellas, found it a struggle
The struggle, was staying awake

A young buck was screaming and carrying on
Aggressive, disruptive – not happy
He settled down, no need for security
Once his Mum finished changing his nappy

We are blessed with our culture of music and pubs
Unique, accessible and diverse
Collateral damage in the war against violence?
Why should music pay for this curse?

There is pressure enough from development
Many lights that shone bright are now dimming
Linking violence to music holds the same logic
As linking drowning to synchronised swimming

There are hundreds of towns throughout the bush
Accustomed to living with doubt
The pub with no beer? The pub with no music!
That’s what I call a drought

Pubs aren’t charities – Have you met a rich musician?
It survives while it stays in the black
Trial and error, taking chances, finding what fits
And by scratching each other’s back

I’ve rarely seen problems in venues with music
Compared to some bars around town
I feel safer, less threatened when I go to most pubs
Than I do under lights outside Crown

Must pubs retreat to gambling and beer
Before we realise what our culture means
If we’re lucky, a juke box will compete for our money
Amid the clanging of Pokie Machines

It’s up to Performers, Publicans, Punters
It’s up to us all to ensure
Those who decree and enforce understand
Music’s not the disease – It’s the cure!

© Copyright 2010  Ian Bland

A couple of videos of the rally

Photo By Jools Thatcher

The theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method poem is “Letter”

I can’t remember the last time I actually “wrote” a letter. Never really my forté, I tend to communicate in other ways.

Ed Bates returns to  guitar duties this week  (I don’t think he’s happy with his computer).

Download audio file (JVG_Poem20100221.mp3)

Letter

Dear Sir or Madam – whoever you are
Your gender wasn’t stated
I suspect you’re not even human
But computer generated

Still, thanks for your letter, a source of amusement
As always, a joy to receive
It’s filed with the others – Straight in the bin
I’m not sure what you hoped to achieve

This brings up your hundred – not that I’m counting
No-one can say you aren’t trying
And just as I’ve done with the last ninety nine
I’m showing courtesy by replying

I realise your owed nearly Two Hundred Dollars
I can imagine it causes distress
But I’ve told you before my Uncle Bruce
No longer shares this address

You could ask him yourself – now there’s an idea
I’m certain Bruce would be flattered
You’ll find him at high tide on Mentone Beach
At least that’s where his ashes were scattered

He’s as dead, you morons, as Monty Python’s Parrot
Departed two years as of June
His name’s Bruce, you cretins, Bruce, not Lazarus
So no – I’m not expecting him soon

Still, I have to admire your persistence
An outstanding debt really galls
But you gormless primates have blown triple that bill
Just in postage and calls

That lovely young man you keep sending around
The one with the garlic breath
The black shirt with a personality bypass
Demanding some ‘Proof of death’

Debt Recovery, I think, was his title
‘Grunt’ I believe was his name
I cordially invited him to screw himself
I suggest you consider the same

Now you’re threatening legal action
Brilliant – try suing a ghost
You could serve the summons by ouija board
It will save you a fortune in post

I suggest your minnow brained lawyers
Should stick to ambulance chasin’
Pay a medium to contact the other side
Try channelling Perry Mason

He’s dead you cyborgs, like VHS
Deceased – not hibernating
Do you really think he gives two shits?
That he’s damaged his credit rating

Bruce donated his liver and kidneys
And the rest of his organs in turn
If I’d known I’d have saved you his arsehole
But all we’ve got left is the urn

His heart gave a woman a second chance
His corneas gave sight to two men
Why don’t your bloodhounds try sniffing them out?
Get your money, pro rata, from them

His only possession was a budgie named ‘Feathers’
Not sure of it’s sex or its age
Maybe you leeches could flog it on eBay
In the meantime, you clean out its cage

Yours Sincerely, Etcetera, Etcetera
Signed on behalf of the debtor
PS Take off your clothes and touch your toes
Cause that’s where I’m sending this letter

© Copyright 2010 Ian Bland

Photo By Jools Thatcher

The theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method poem is “True”

First one for 2010, I think we are of to a good start.

Ed Bates eschews the guitar this week and uses his computer to offer a tasteful and evocative ambience.

Download audio file (JVG_Poem20100214.mp3)

True

True – Or False? Have A Guess.
The Subject Doesn’t Matter
C’mon, True – Or False – Yes Or No
The Former Or The Latter

Fifty/Fifty – Not Bad Odds
For Something Black – Or White
Truth Is So Subjective
Perhaps Both – Or Neither Is Right

How Do You Determine What’s True?
Logic Or Revelation?
Raised, As We Were, On Father Christmas
Whom We Embraced Without Hesitation

A Rabbit Brought Us Chocolate Eggs
Accepted Without A Skerrick Of Proof
A Fairy, Unsighted, With An Oral Fixation
Left Cash For Each Discarded Tooth

A God, Who In Six Days Created The Earth
The Stars, Every Creature And Bloom
Which I Struggled To Fathom Given It Took Me
A Week Just To Tidy My Room

Industries Evolved To Confound Us With Spin
And Help Turn Opinion Their Way
Doubt, The Path Of Least Resistance
Blends Black And White Into Grey

Media, Marketers, Lawyers, The Internet
Politicians – To Name But A Few
Religion, Advertisements, Experts For Hire
Each With Their Own Brand Of True

Gaza Strip, Iraq, Iran
Collateral Damage – Vietnam

Jaidyn Leskie, JFK
Bash The Bush, Dredge The Bay

Man On The Moon, Alien Abduction
Weapons Of Mass Destruction

Financial Advisors, Ab Machines
Harold Holt, Nicotine
Climate Change, Margarine

Substantiated Or Exaggerated?
Subjective Or Subjugated?

Economists, Terrorists, Pragmatists, Strategists
Unionists, Theorists, Columnists, Activists

Israel, Palestine
The Benefits Of Red Wine

Longford, Winternoom, Roswell, Maralinga
Cover The Eyes Or Point The Finger

Low Fat, No Fat, Less Fat, Lite
Endless Potential, Renovator’s Delight

Resurrection Or Reincarnation?
Reality Or Indoctrination?
Another Stolen Generation

Conservationists, Lobbyists, Scientists, Ethicists
Journalists, Industrialists, Evangelists, Separatists

Dairy Or Soy? Is Fluoride Safe?
Sodom Or Gomorrah – Science Or Faith?

Lowers Cholesterol, Salt Reduced
Imported Ingredients – Locally Produced
Strengthens Immunity, Studies Show
Squeezed Fresh Daily – Two Weeks Ago

Cures Cancer, Reflux And Period Pains
Prevents Wrinkles, Whitens Teeth And Unblocks Drains
Lose 30 Kilos – Guaranteed
Carbon Neutral And Cholesterol Free
No Child Will Live In Poverty

Imperialists, Socialists, Feminists, Misogynists
Pacifists, Physicists, Zionists, Monarchists

Deceit, Scam, Fact Or Deception
Valid Claim, Routine Or Exception
Opinion, Belief, Immaculate Conception

True – Or False? Can’t Make Up Your Mind?
Too Hard? Still Unsure?
Truth, Comes As Do Promises
Both As Core And Non-Core

Too Little, Too Much, Conflicting Data?
Best Wait For The Waters To Clear?
True – Or False? A Seed Of Doubt?
Bingo – That’s The Whole Idea

© Copyright 2010 Ian Bland

Photo By Jools Thatcher

The theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method poem is “Ready”

Ed Bates does sterling service on the guitar duties this week

Download audio file (JVG_Poem20091129.mp3)

READY

“Batsmen ready?” the umpire enquired
As ‘Pig’ Mills prepared to take strike
Formalities over, he barked at the bowler
“Righto, whenever you like”

‘Pig’s’ first game in the under elevens
For him, this was a dream
Twelfth man all season – he was ready for this
Opening bat for his team

Margaret French, better known as ‘Frog’
Was as wide as she was tall
The muscle and tone of an East German sprinter
And a demon with the new ball

Fitter and stronger than most of the blokes
And better than all on her day
She trained before school by cleaning the stables
Lumping feed and mucking out hay

Now “Pig’ wasn’t expecting a female
The thought of it stuck in his craw
How would it look, belting a Sheila
Into the outfield for four

His worries dissolved with the very first ball
As “Frog” rolled over her arm
The ball whistled past the motionless ‘Pig’
Uncharacteristically calm

‘Frog’ was bemused by ‘Pig’s’ cool resolve
And assumed he chose to ignore it
The reason, however, was far less impressive
The truth is “Pig’ never saw it

By the end of the over, rattled and baffled
Reality began to set in
He’d faced six deliveries without sighting the ball
The last one nicking his chin

Now ‘Pig’ wasn’t the sharpest of pencils
And the hinges were loose on his door
More concerned of being bowled by a girl
Than he was of making a score

If he hung round much longer ‘Frog’ would claim him
A fact beyond any doubt
So ‘Pig” decided, the sensible thing
Was to try to run himself out

The success of his plan was breathtaking
But an outcome he didn’t intend
To the ire of his team mates he managed to run out
All ten batsmen at the non striker’s end

In the process ‘Pig’ set two club records
Though none were too pleased with that
The first in their history to take all ten wickets
And the first to carry their bat

‘Pig’ stood the crease for forty six runs
Which he stressed with considerable pride
Till the coach pointed out the total consisted
Of forty five byes and a wide

‘Pig’ returned to carrying the drinks
A position he would never surrender
Seems he wasn’t as ready as he thought he was
At least not on the issue of gender

© Copyright 2009 Ian Bland