The Garden of IT
Here in the garden of "I" "T",Where we seem kept, eternally
Wanting to go, but rooted here,
What's there to do, it's not so clear;
Oh beer's no good to make one grow,
It should be sun and love aglow,
Raining down upon myself,
That I to Love would grow myself,
But gardeners, their eyes a blind,
By the great light of Love's sunshine,
Do trample and eradicate,
the plants that made this garden great;
Alas no colors here to bless,
And not a scent to bring success,
The stench of shit is on the ground,
And feet must watch to walk around,
The garden's now a plot of dirt,
Where rats and mice now seem to lurk,
Where once where cherished plants to see,
Are now just open vacancies,
Even the birds now shun this place,
Where flowers were, now but disgrace,
The feeling of the Bank is gone,
From what was once a garden song.
Now fear is what the garden feels,
When gardeners visit their heels,
Looking for plants they can pull out,
They do their monthly walk about,
But is it true that plants do feel,
And have a soul that seems so real,
And are connected to to each one,
Like air we breath, or like the Sun ?
Or are they just to trample on,
Like worthless mulch to piss upon,
To take the best when they are young,
And then to pasture them like dung ?
These questions does the garden ask,
Between the storms the clouds do cast,
Between the waves that fall and crash,
The bull dozers will come at last.
To build anew, to push away,
The garden will be gone to stay,
A building in it's place to be,
Of stone and concrete, --felony ?
But isn't new built on the past,
And everything here doesn't last,
And plants do grow so they can die,
But plants know this, so they don't cry.
-----------------
This poem was written during the time when the IT Department I worked in
began to be reorganized by new management. They felt they needed to
change everything, including the staff.
The first to go were the best managers.
The new management team (the gardeners) was led by two women, one who reported to the other --thus the reference about "high heels"
The reorganization was done in two "waves," so the risk could be managed.
The poem captures the shock of staff and the general dis-belief at what was going on. For me it was a time of letting go.
The first to go were the best managers.
The new management team (the gardeners) was led by two women, one who reported to the other --thus the reference about "high heels"
The reorganization was done in two "waves," so the risk could be managed.
The poem captures the shock of staff and the general dis-belief at what was going on. For me it was a time of letting go.