This week’s poem I wrote for Jon’s JVG Radio Method on 3RRR has an interesting topic this week, Jon’s choice was “ROOT”. Thoughts of reggae music are where I started but the poem went in different direction.

Click to hear today’s poem… [audio:JVG_Poem20071125.mp3]

Jon and I spent most of our chat with huge grins on our face over the change of government last night. Also just a reminder that Triple R BBQ Day – SUNDAY 2ND OF DECEMBER is next week. We have been in rehearsal learning the new songs especially for the event. So come along and have alisten
Ed Bates once again supplying “roots” music backings on slide guitar today.


ROUTE

Friday morning you head off to school the same as you do everyday
Only this time it’s going to be different, this time you’re running away

After school you’re off to a mates for the weekend, or so your Mum thinks, at any rate
That’s 58 hours before you’ll be missed, by then you’ll be interstate

You plan to head north, get a job on the boats, but which route, you’re not really sure
You only decide on the “Princes” cause it’s the name of the beagle next door

You stand by the road and you stick out your thumb, free, to go where you like
Like Peter Fonda in “Easyrider”, except no bandana, and no motor bike

The first lift you get’s with a sales rep, seems like a pretty good bloke
Takes you all the way down to Bairnsdale, even buys you a coke

Then two or three hours and no-one pulls up, still everything’s going to plan
It’s late afternoon when pull your next ride, you pile into the back of a van

A van load of born again Christians, those buggers sure know how to talk
By the time you’re dropped at Lakes Entrance, God knows you’re happy to walk

They’re so insufferably cheerful, even when they get a ticket for speedin
They’re fishing for souls in East Gippsland, you’d rather be fishing in Eden

You eat the last sandwich your Mum made for lunch, and wish you had something to drink
Sit up all night trying to keep warm, then it’s dawn and you haven’t slept a wink

Walk most of the day, nobody stops, you wonder if you’ve made a mistake
Then an old buggered Ford sails round the bend, relief when he jumps on the brake

Asks where you’re headed, at last your lucks in, he tells you he’s going your way
Providing you chip in for petrol, by now you’re more than happy to pay

“Go take a leak while i’m filling the tank, you won’t get a chance later on”
You hand over your money, all you’ve got left, when you come back the bastard is gone

You’re starving, you’re thirsty, you’re tired and you’re broke, daylight is starting to dim
When a semi pulls up, the window goes down and the driver yells out “get in”

This truckie is like all the cliches, solid, tattoos, and a gut
A two day growth, blue singlet and shorts, and a baseball cap on his nut

He buys you a burger, gives you a smoke, says he’s grateful to have company
Just as you find yourself falling asleep, you feel his hand on your knee

You freeze and slowly open your eyes, not sure of what you should do
He gives you a wink, puts on a cassette, “Don’t it make your brown eyes blue”

You start talking about your girlfriend, you know, the one who doesn’t exist
But that doesn’t seem to dissuade him, he asks if you’ve ever been kissed

You tell him you’re not that way inclined and slide close as you can to the door
He quickly responds, “If you’ve never tried, then how can you know for sure?”

You say you’ve never tried bathing in acid, or trimming your nails with a cleaver
You’ve never tried eating a dog turd and you don’t intend trying that either

It takes a while, but he finally accepts that your never going to deliver
Next thing you’re standing alone in the dark, east of Orbost, shy of Cann River

Eden can wait, you’re heading home, in the middle of nowhere and stuck
You walk all night, pray for a ride, and you’re hoping it won’t be a truck

Ten Sunday morning, a Beetle pulls up, you were almost ready to beg
He gives you a drink, asks if you’re hungry, and thank God doesn’t go near your leg

Twelve years in the navy, then left to get married, but that recently ended in tears
Now he’s driving from sydney to melbourne, signing up for another six years

“Six months at sea” he said with conviction, ‘and all you can think of is sex”
“Six months on land and now I’m addicted to Vincent’s powders and Bex”

The stories he tells for the next seven hours, are enough to make the paint peel
Bang on six, you walk in your front door, as your Mum serves the evening meal

You eat seventeen slices of meatloaf, and that’s just an appetiser
Now a man of the world, an adventurer, and your parents are none the wiser

But what are you going to say to your mates, back so soon, you feel like a fool
But in less than three days you’ve learnt more about life than over a decade at school

You grunt goodnight to your folks as you head out the back to your room
Your Mum remarks “You could do with a shower, and next time try taking the Hume”

© Copyright 2007 Ian Bland

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