Bland On Bland – Theme

The theme for the JVG Radio Method February 18th 2007 was “THEME”.
Sometimes Jon can be a bit too clever.

Theme…[audio:JVG_Poem20070218.mp3] Slide Guitar by Ed Bates


woke around seven, too tired to leave bed, felt buggered before i’d begun
made a futile attempt to out fart my daughter, she beat me & she’s not even one

a two minute shower, three minute oats, my usual sunday regime
plucked a half dirty shirt from the laundry floor, hawaiin, as always the theme

perhaps it’s a link to the pleasures of childhood, perhaps it’s only a stage
most men gravitate to hawaiin shirts when they reach a particular age

my girlfriend reckons that’s bullshit, proffered a theory of her own
she says men use the palm trees as cover, for their fading testosterone

i couldn’t be bothered to argue, who knows maybe she’s right
i offered to lend her a couple of mine, to help cover her cellulite

who cares, they make me feel happy, who cares if i look like a jester
nothing can match the scent of hibiscus blended with pure polyester

finally dressed, i left for the station, a walk then a train and a tram
every square inch covered in ads, the city turned into spam

the burgers are better, eat to get slimmer, life’s good, seriously
can’t beat the taste, no-one beats us, nine out of ten dentists agree

just do it, bloody idiot, because you’re worth it, the power of dreams
a hard earned thirst needs another shrimp on the barbie, endless slogans and themes

victoria, the place to be, our number plates volunteer
what’s the point in them shoving that down our throats, when we’re already here

it seems to me the themes alright, but the execution fails
it should be embossed on the number plates of all the cars in new south wales

victoria, on the move declares my aging number plate
was the government really suggesting we pack up and move interstate?

that would have saved millions on welfare, roads and transportation
and other superfluous areas too, like health and education

it’s election mode for little johnny howard, he’s already moved up a gear
brushing the dust off his old proven theme, a good liberal dose of fear

predictions of doom, evil and gloom, an attempt to frighten the masses
the message he’s sending, hot air he’s expending only adds to our greenhouse gasses

emmisions we know, specially kyoto, is not an issue he strongly promotes
though it’s good for the earth, it has little worth, it’s fear that wins you the votes

so i went to the lomond, i needed a guinness, a large one to make me resiliant
but even before, james started to pour, the whole fucking bar shouted brilliant

outside a young punk, obnoxiously drunk, determined to do me some hurt
he said what man allows, a proffussion of flowers, to be littered all over his shirt

my manhood at stake, the only action to take, to challenge the punk to a fight
but testosterone loss, made me mellow not cross, i was happy to tell him he’s right

i’d had enough, so i headed for home, by now it was starting to rain
caught the last bus, it was covered in ads for a well known hamburger chain

i ordered a ticket, it was just as nutritious and nowhere near as much fat
i asked for a two hour- zone one and two, and no i didn’t want fries with that

at last i’m in bed, i can empty my head of the slogans, the jingles and ads
then it occurred, life’s shaken not stirred, it’s one long succession of fads

it sounds melodramatic, our whole lives are thematic, from beginning to the inescapable end
i found bed so appealing, i yelled “oh what a feeling”, and bugger it all starts again

© Copyright 2007 Ian Bland

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