The Coffin Maker

The coffin maker

 is a happy man now.

More and more orders keep coming in.

Soon he’ll able to marry off

his daughters who have just attained puberty

and keep pretty Angela happy

on condoms strawberry flavoured an chocolate ice.

Of late he painted his house bright chrysanthemum red

ordered teakwood beds and never cared a damn

what the neighbours said. Atop his showroom

the great catlights came on

and his name glowed in the dark

whenever passing lights hit it.

Now he’s not wondering any more,

he knows he’s the best in town.

What about air-conditioning? That would lengthen

the life of coffins. Now he’s struck with a bright new idea

that would revolutionise coffin making for

all time. Electronic remote-controlled polymer coffins

with micro chips and inbuilt flash units

that brought home to your PC screen

your dear dear dear departed along with uptodate

information on the state of decomposition

that you could activate or slow down

much like a video-game. An idea he knew would catch on like

wild fire making him a billionaire overnight.

Now whenever he kneels down with Angela

to pray,

he can only think of this

no one else can help him raise such funds

so hi-tech

which of course secretly meant

more and more accidents, causalities, fatalities

of course work was worship, it didn’t matter what you did

you just had to put in your best, there could be no wrong asking

and for all this (if his dream came true)

he would keep his wood

and bury his god

in a coffin of gold.