w1200_h678_fmaxThe theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method poem is “Low“.

This weeks’s poem is a two parter. It’s a bit complicated as to why but, well, its a bit like life. It will take us a while to get to the end but we will look back and it will all make sense.

OR

The real reason is that it was too long and Jon needed it to be cut in half…

Your choice

Part two is finally available here

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

Low

“It’s stinking hot” sighed Bunnie “with the window up or down”
As Alf turned off the highway a few minutes out of town

“You said you’d had the aircon gassed, or checked at any rate”
“I was meaning to” Alf confessed “I’ve had so much on my plate”

“Like what Alf? The form guide, while I unblocked the drain”
“Lay off Bunn, the doctor said to exercise my brain”

“Alf, far from me to question your doctor’s expertise
But even your brain can’t exercise in 46 degrees

What’s that light?” quizzed Bunn “look, middle of the dash”
“Oh that” barked Alf “don’t worry, we’re not about to crash”

“Well it’s on for a reason, Alf, and I have a right to know”
“Forget it Bunn, it’s nothing, just means the petrol’s low”

“We just passed the bloody garage Alf, no more than three K’s back
Don’t tell me to forget it, you kept driving cause you’re slack”

“Fair go Bunn, get off my case, it’s too bloody hot to stop
I’ll fill it up tomorrow when we go to town to shop

We’ve got fifty K’s at least, probably even more”
“How long’s the light been on?” asked Bunn. Alf said he wasn’t sure

Barely thirty seconds later on a dusty, pot holed road
The engine began spluttering and their sweat box lurched then slowed

Alf got out and kicked the tyres, pretending to be shocked
“Not my fault” he muttered “think the carbie must be blocked”

“It’s out of fuel you dickhead.” Bunn gave Alf a blast
“Settle down” begged Alf “someone will come past”

“Alf you oaf, it’s a dead end road, there’s no traffic going by
There’s only us and Selwyn Tonks and he’s in prison till July”

“S’pose one of us will have to walk” Alf subtly alluded
By ‘one of us’ he meant that he himself was not included

“It couldn’t be much more than a seven K round trip
I’d go myself, I’d love to but you know, my plastic hip”

Without a word Bunn took off, sandals on her feet
A hat forged from the ‘Woman’s Day’ to shield the blistering heat

She’d barely made the first bend when she heard her husband cry
“Can you bring me back a pastie love?” Bunn did not reply

Alf took out the form guide and began to plan his bets
Fossicked in the glove box for his audio cassettes

Slim Dusty then Slim Newton then a tape of Smokey Dawson
An audio book of the Works of Henry Lawson

He’d just put on Tex Morton when Bunn staggered up the track
“You took your time” Alf blustered “did you bring me back a snack?”

Too sunburnt and exhausted to offer much more than a word
She thrust out the petrol can rasping “Pour it in you turd”

“What in hell’s name are you doing?” Alf contemptuously huffed
This is diesel not unleaded, you want the engine stuffed?”

Too tired to waste a breath, though if only looks could kill
Bunn turned back towards the town and staggered up the hill

to be continued…
© Copyright 2016 Ian Bland


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

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