Bland On Bland – The BookThe theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method poem is “Isolation“.

Our first week doing the show from the home, Jon and I chatted on the phone ( as I can no longer travel to the studio) about the strangeness of being locked in.

Our situation is the obvious choice of the theme.

No Ed this week, flying solo, have a listen to how it went below…

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


Thanks to Coronavirus, the laws now require us
At the slightest cough to keep ourselves confined
I agree with their insistence, to practice social distance
But stuck at home, I’ve begun to lose my mind

Imprisoned in my room, my house feels like a tomb
From the kitchen the footpath seems so far
Starved of company, the usual rubbish on TV
I’m just thankful we still have Triple R

I’m frustrated and bored, loneliness is my reward
My patience and my nerves are wearing thin
I look forward to Thursday night, it’s my only shining light
The thrill of putting out the rubbish bin

My facebook friends have gone, a few emojis, then moved on
Are they scared they’ll catch the virus using twitter?
All my crosswords have been crossed, played myself at chess and lost
Only ‘cause I cheated but I’m not bitter

I could read, but that’s a strain, it means focussing my brain
I need someone to amuse me, that’s the plan
I have a million books, but they’re only there for looks
So people think I’m smarter than I am

Before Corona I was slim, but now they’ve closed the gym
I can’t do Zumba or Pilates on my own
My abs and my abductors, have lost tone without instructors
I need a trainer, you can’t exercise alone

I feel like I’m in jail, time travels like a snail
My stress level’s going off the charts
I feel bound, I feel chained, to keep myself entertained
I’ve spent hours on the couch lighting farts

As I look across the yard, I won’t pretend it isn’t hard
Now I’m forced to keep myself in quarantine
I caught a whiff of sweet perfume, from the garden, still in bloom
Till I realised what I smelt was Pine-O-Clean

I put my nose up to the glass, and watch people as they pass
Heading merrily to a party down the beach
They’re not concerned about infection, or community protection
Trump reckons you just need to swallow bleach

Bloody Generation Y, they don’t care if Boomers die
As long as they know they’re not going to cark it
They’re not worried ‘cause they’re told, the virus only kills the old
Which in turn means more houses on the market

I’m tired of this caper, where wealth is judged by toilet paper
Surely there must be a better way
Exile’s left me anguished, my soul and spirit vanquished
I’ve been stuck at home for almost – half a day

Then I think of those held captive in perpetual isolation
Lives, not interrupted, not in temporary hibernation

Who exist beyond our orbit, left to others to support
Until our lives are touched, few give little thought

The aged, the infirm, the paralysed
The impoverished, the homeless, the marginalised
The immobile, the estranged, the institutionalised
The abused, the forgotten, the traumatised

Whose lives aren’t merely paused till liberated by vaccines
For only they can understand what true isolation means

© Copyright 2020 Ian Bland

Also have a listen to “Everything or Nothing

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