blndonblandpoem-featuredThe theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method poem is “Cleaning“.


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Cleaning

Cleanliness to Royston Gribb meant more than sanitation
It grew, in time, from daily showers to full time occupation

Floors to mop, shelves to wipe, plates and clothing washed
Insects to be hunted down and poisoned, never squashed

Ads on television, fuelled Royston’s growing fear
The world was smoke and mirrors, he could see through the veneer

Research showing bench tops more befouled than toilet seats
Carpet harboured monsters, worse hid between the sheets

Devour your flesh, taint your food, feast upon your blood
The trickle of obsession, soon welled into flood

What began as simply cleaning escalated into war
He’d dress up in a chem.-suit and shimmy round the floor

With a magnifying glass and a can of pesticide
There was always one more crevice where the enemy could hide

Satan’s tiny army, each with countless legs
Marching from the sewers to lay their hellish eggs

Yet despite his tireless efforts, to his anger and disgust
Insects kept appearing and he could not keep out the dust

One night, a show on telly had Roy tearing at his skin
It was about the human body and what beasties dwelt within

Bacteria and parasites, flora, fungus, germs
Meandering around our guts a plethora of worms

He’d never once considered that he may be a source
“I’m not the conqueror of filth” he cried “I’m just a Trojan Horse”

He leapt into the bath and thrashed round like a trout
Yelled “I’ll give myself an enema, flush the bastards out”

He mixed a raft of chemicals, blended, one part each
Antiseptic, herbicide, fungicide and bleach

He was going to add some kero but he couldn’t stand the stench
So instead he used a bottle of sheep and cattle drench

Shaved off all his hair, washed in germicidal foam
Any children listening, don’t try this at home

He lay down on the bathroom tiles, took a moment to compose
Then inserted a high pressure water cleaner hose

Royston realised his folly when the motor activated
The power and flow rate greater than even he’d anticipated

Three thousand pounds per square inch shooting up his bowel
As he swelled to twice his size he let loose a chilling howl

Unabated, the toxic surge continued its assault
Roy’s eyeballs left their sockets with the speed of Usain Bolt

He flailed around the bathroom like a kite in a typhoon
Till finally he exploded, like an overfilled balloon

The ghastly mess resembled a work by Jackson Pollock
Not the way you’d chose to go if you’re a rabid clean-a-holic

They pumped him into buckets, which at least made Roy look neater
He was buried, I mean poured; the funeral home charged by the litre

So wash your hands and clean your teeth, but don’t get too obsessed
Microbes are here to stay, it’s not worth getting stressed

There are some that make us ill, mostly they’re our friend
This tale confirms, germs and worms, always triumph in the end

© Copyright 2016 Ian Bland


Also have a listen to the songs on the new album “Everything or Nothing

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