Photo By Jools Thatcher

Photo By Jools Thatcher

The theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method poem is “The Human Form”.

JVG , 3RRR  and the National Gallery conspired to  have us in for the End Of Summer and do  a live to air show. It was great fun

Ed Bates on the guitar this week

The audio will be along eventually (live to airs are tricky things)


The Human Form

“Arty types, those Bennett’s”
Old Man Richards sneered
Observing his new neighbour
Clad in skivvy and a beard

“Pinkos too” he snarled
In his smoke and beer steeped drawl
Spying, three flying ducks, hung
Descending on the wall

The only work of art
To adorn the Richards home
Was “Goodbye cruel world” emblazoned
On the lid that graced their throne

“Art” he barked with feeling
“Is watching Coleman kick for goal”
“Mona Lisa by De Vinci?
Pig’s Arse – it’s sung by Nat King Cole”

The Bennett’s soon made friends
Despite Old Man Richard’s fears
In fact, many more than him
And he’d lived there forty years

Renee and Max, their children
Quickly meshed into the scene
Kids flocked to the Bennett’s house
To ride their trampoline

Not ‘Pig’ Mills who found absurd
Such strenuous recreation
Not “Squirrel’ Tyrrell who broke his leg
Riding the Richard’s Alsatian

Those two explored the Bennett’s study
Books from floor to ceiling
Philosophy, history, politics, art
Nothing ‘Pig’ found remotely appealing

He flicked through a book on sculpture
Bored and exasperated
Then froze at the Statue of David
Studied it, captivated

Perplexed, “Pig’ slowly raised his head
“This Angelo fella’s sick”
“Why bother carving such a mammoth sculpture
Then give him such a tiny dick?”

An album of nudes attracted his interest
Goya, Degas, Anders Zorn
‘Squirrel’ in awe of the artistic talent
While “Pig’ viewed its merits as porn

He was disappointed the crutches were hidden
Cloaked, he assumed, by a wig
‘Squirrel’ explained it was just pubic hair
Which came as a bombshell to ‘Pig’

‘Pig’s’ anatomical knowledge was skewed
By a ‘Playboy’ his cousin Hans stole
In the sixties crutches were air brushed
Featureless, smooth as a doll

“Squirrel” consumed by wonder
Discovered new realms in that book
As though all the world’s wisdoms could be told in a word
A life expressed in one look

Those insights, at once, ruthless and caring
The flesh torn free of the shell
A solitary frame plucked from a film
Reveals more than the movie can tell

Robbed of their right to veil their true being
In movement, in change, unopposed
Every emotion, bias, intent
Every strength and flaw lay exposed

‘Squirrel’, his passion awakened
Would soon find voice in the arts
He saw beyond the pendulous breasts
To the sum of all the parts

While ‘Pig’, never a “Big Picture” person
Unless the “Big Picture” had tits
Made no attempt to appraise the sum
Simply gloried himself in the bits

Blind to the grace of the fingers
The compassion etched in the smile
All ‘Pig’ could see was a plump, juicy, rump
Bugger composition and style

Happy to splash in the shallows
Like a dog ruled by its fleas
“Pig” watched “Squirrel” discover the forest
While he swung round in the trees

Masked by familiarity
The extraordinary becomes the norm
The mysteries of the human condition
Can be glimpsed in the human form

© Copyright 2010 Ian Bland

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