Bland On Bland – Fortune

Photo By Jools Thatcher
Photo By Jools Thatcher

The theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method poem is “Fortune“.

Jon, Sarah Carroll and I chatted about the Largies, my health, the bush, the first week with out the footy and we didn’t touch the actual topic of fortune.

The poem does detail some of my week though. It cost me a fortune.

Ed Bates supplied the guitar backing this week

To play this poem directly in your browser – just click the “play” button below:

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


This poem cost a fortune: I know it sounds absurd
Around two hundred dollars – that’s two hundred bucks – each word

I know it sounds expensive but that’s not including labour
Plus fuel and pain and suffering – not me, that’s for my neighbour

I had to move a water tank: How hard could it be?
I also had to write this poem or face the wrath of JVG

I rustled up some help from my neighbours, Roz and Mick
I said “The poem takes priority so we have to move this quick”

To speed things up we took a few short cuts I’ll confess
More precisely, we entirely, ignored O H and S

The trip was all down hill, so shouldn’t take us long
The tank was made of poly, what could possibly go wrong?

Reality kicked in as soon as we’d begun
Plastic it may be, but it still weighed half a tonne

Took us fifty minutes just to tip it on its side
Then Roz brought down the dozer, thought we’d use it as a guide

We should have used a safety rope but already delayed
We backed the dozer down the slope, the tank held by the blade

We’d gently roll it past the house and park it out the back
But we didn’t think to factor in the camber of the track

Until the bend our plan had proved effective, although crude
But once we hit the corner the tank just sort of skewed

We stopped to reassess things but the seeds of doubt were sown
Guess the tank got tired of waiting and took off on its own

It teetered to the left then drifted to the right
Racing down the paddock at twice the speed of light

Straight through the barbed wire fence, then skipped across the dam
Wiped out the shed and outhouse, thank God, no-one on the can

Bounced within a bee’s dick from where the goat was tethered
The chickens weren’t as lucky, looked like omelettes, only feathered

The survivors kept on laying, but they weren’t laying eggs
The Hills Hoist didn’t stand a chance; even claimed the pegs

The tank shot down the driveway, its momentum wasn’t dwindling
The woodshed copped the brunt – least it saves me chopping kindling

It barely missed the dog which didn’t make a peep
Just gave its balls a lick and went straight back to sleep

The house was in its sights as it rumbled through the gate
I remember thinking, God, is the insurance up to date?

Hit a stump and bounced into a giant Mountain Ash
Jumped right across the house and I heard a thunderous crash

“Car for Sale” – going cheap, albeit very slow
Suspension’s been lowered – about as far as it can go

Rego states medium, though lately modified to small
Perfect for anyone who’s five centimetres tall

This poem’s on the market, no tyre kickers please
Sold “As is”, no refunds, returns or guarantees

I’m asking for a fortune, true, but less than it cost me
A poly tank, done just one k – I’m throwing in for free

© Copyright 2012 Ian Bland

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