Of all the things that I could be
I think I'll not select
'Horticulturist'
'Cos life for me's been too much at sea
I see myself strictly as an
'Ostreiculturist'
splashing. sunshine.
etched glasses with paint in mind -
water goo.
rose reds and blueberry blues.
as if handling a ginormous flatscreen,
the canvas placed.
splash...splash...splash
like a conductor with an orchestral skill.
the maestro puts on his visor and busies himself,
squeezes the trigger, the water bottle
set to diffuse. his plants flourish in their bath.
he sees them grow before his playful eyes,
stamens wear black mascara.
they soak up the sunshine
like bathing beauties.
twenty hues in ketchup-sized bottles,
arranged like dutch tulips on the dais,
hold still as the gardener plucks
a plastic stem with his hand.
appearing as a mad horticulturist —
this artist’s in demand.
3/23/2020
His daughter was getting married
So the Hon. Minister’s gate was thrown open
For just that day.
And like flies to a carcass,
The people thronged in
To see, to hail, to help with cooking,
And to gossip.
His gangster paradise
Of beautiful daughters and
Buxom young wives, a harem of them,
The assorted automobiles
Could give one ******.
The horticulturist
Must have seen the Garden of Eden.
The architect who designed his mansion
Must have had
A national monument in mind.
My country’s ministers could be
Very creative with tax payers money.
They could conjure a paradise
Right here on earth.
One glaring feature in his paradise
Was the dogs.
The big fat dogs.
Over a score of them.
Easy to count as they were neither
Caged nor leashed. They have been trained.
Moving freely in groups of fours and fives.
Amazingly calm but should not
Be mistaken for our local dogs.
It would be suicidal to do that.
They were wild dogs.
They minded their business as long as
Visitors did not cross their path.
They say at night,
Those dogs don’t bark foolishly
At a trespasser.
They will eat him and lick up every trace
That even Hon. Minister will not know
Anyone trespassed.
I wondered what I’d do If I had chosen a career
Would it have been based on challenge or overcoming fear
I could have been an electrician
Working with plugs and wires and sprockets
Or maybe even a politician
Putting my hands in other peoples pockets
I might have been a mariner
When my ship was moored I’d rig it
Or possibly an undertaker
But I just didn’t dig it
How about being a dramatic actor
Playing a part that would make you cry
Study law and be a lawyer
Put my hand on a Bible and lie
I could have been a doctor
And helped ease somebody’s pain
I could have been a congressman
And sold my country down the drain
Be a horticulturist with flowers
From a daisy to a rose
Or a plastic surgeon with pictures
So my patients could pick their nose
I might have chosen to be a weather man
Being wrong most of the time
Or the CEO of a major company
Believing being a thief wasn’t really a crime
If I had to choose a career
I wouldn’t know where to start
So I’ll just be a poet
And stay true to my heart.
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