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Array
(
[sid] => 59728
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Office Flowers
[time] => 2004-08-11 07:41:17
[hometext] => One of those MY GOD THIS CAN'T BE ALL THERE IS moments. Still, hope springs eternal.....
[bodytext] =>  I work in a high tower, on a top level Accessed only by security cards, Which hang around your neck on lanyards And force you to genuflect to the access pads, to verify your status, The confessionals of corporate religion are lift wells scented with flatus. Staff share cubicles, conversations, recycled air The day’s progress measured by clocks, As they move from one task to the next in these office blocks And people look surprised to see a whole day pass, through two inches of double paned, sound proof glass. Scalding ever hot water and dirty dishes in Kitchens the size of a plane loo, So tiny even two people have to queue And fridges as overfilled as a Japanese commuter train, House lunches alongside mouldy food no one bothers to claim. On their breaks, people go downstairs And bathe in the sun like meerkats, The smokers stand huddled and look as guilty as rats But the time away from desks, though not so far, Feels like you’ve step out from under a bell jar. People spend a lot of time gazing out of windows Still nervous whenever they see a plane, Worried they might suffer that 9/11 pain Yet the sunsets are glorious enough to make you sigh, And the city at night looks beautiful on high. Sometimes I wonder if people are still enough during the day That they will eventually put down roots through their pants, And slowly grow towards the light like potted plants Like the African Violet and the Peace Lilly never in bloom, As the afternoon sun makes staff drowsy in the board room. We have replaced the mountain-top with skyscrapers and glass towers Traded in animal skins for Pierre-Cardin suits and corporate dress, Have nameless maintenance staff clean up our mess Corrected our behaviours and suppressed our primal urges, Until we walk around like we are suffering Aspergers. But those long warm afternoons are our chance to dream And for the blossoms of the mind to germinate, As we sit at the windows and ruminate That life isn’t always measured by the corporate hour, And even old office plants sometimes flower. [comments] => 5 [counter] => 163 [topic] => 14 [informant] => spike [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 34 [ratings] => 7 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DreamsandWishes )
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