The theme this week for Jon’s JVG Radio Method on 3RRR is “Misery”. Typical, after last weeks theme. John has picked a wonderful topic that let me explore some of the possible reasons for our
weekly daily panic attacks. Still as I noted last week, anything is a step up from “smutty limericks”. See what you think.
Click to hear today’s poem… [audio:JVG_Poem20080803.mp3]
Ed Bates supplied the soundscape in the background this week. Nice job eh?
Didn’t sleep last night, what with the worry
Was that gnawing only the green chicken curry?
Or was something far more sinister the answer?
Gallstones, an ulcer, dare I say — cancer!
Flatworm, adhesions, a polyp or cyst?
Is my liver inflamed, does my bowel have a twist?
The ache radiates to my chest and my back
Surely I’m having a heart attack
Am I on my last legs or is this just a warning?
Should I make out my will? I could be gone before morning
I took an antacid at Google’s suggestion
The pain disappeared — it was just indigestion!
You’d think I’d be happy, feel a sense of relief
But no, the good news compounded my grief
Without the distraction of my troubles and strife
I was left to contemplate the miseries of life
The rising price of oil, pesticides in the soil
Alzheimer’s from using aluminium foil
Should I stay in bed or get up instead?
Crawl under the doona and pretend I’m dead?
If I do get up what happens then?
Do I go outside? — Or back to bed again?
If I did venture out where would I go?
I suppose I could walk, but walking’s too slow
It could be too cold, but what if it’s not?
Or what if it is and then it turns hot?
Then I’m attacked by mosquitoes and flies
Swooping magpies trying to peck out my eyes
Then get caught in the pouring rain
Bugger walking, I’m catching the train
But you know the trains, they always run late
Who knows how long I’d have to wait?
Peak hour would come; I’d be stuck in the crowd
Wedged next to someone with BO and loud
A signal could fail causing more cancellations
Or worse – the train could get stuck between stations
Bugger the train, I’m driving to town
But what if I’m halfway and then I break down?
Or I park in a clearway cause I don’t see the sign
My car gets towed and I get a fine
And if I get hungry, where do I eat?
Any old caf‚ in any old street?
As for the specials, are they ridgy didge?
Or whatever’s going off in the fridge?
Whatever I order something will spoil it
Will the chef wash his hands when he goes to the toilet?
Will I end up with pasta or a bowl of bacteria?
Salmonella, E-coli, Botulism, Listeria?
What if we’re hit by a sudden tsunami?
Or the government is overthrown by the army?
An outbreak of leprosy, Ebola or SARS
Or invaded by carnivorous budgerigars
I could spontaneously combust, you laugh — but I might
There’s a chance I’ll be struck by a meteorite
Or a piece of space junk could fall from the heavens
Or an oxygen tank from a 747
Or worse than being crushed by a ton of bricks
John Howard could re-enter politics
Joy is subjective, fickle, disjointed
Chose misery and you’ll never be disappointed
Happiness is fleeting, cheerfulness depleting
Optimism ultimately self defeating
While bliss has it’s moments, sustained, it’s non-viable
Whereas glorious misery is far more reliable
While reading this poem the weeds have been growing
We’ve aged three minutes without even knowing
The house is too small, not enough money
Champagnes too warm and the eggs are too runny
There’s a difference between living and being alive
And it’s bigger than the fuel tank on a four wheel drive
Some things you control — let go of the rest
It’s depressing work being depressed
Like a well fed dog that still frets for a bone
There’s quite enough misery without creating our own
Though this poem is finished I add one more verse
Dedicated to someone who feels even worse
Life is a misery and Dan Warner should know
Collingwood have now lost three in a row
© Copyright 2008 Ian Bland