The Last Coke Works.
Shrouding victims in living steam,
Watching over them, slowly draining hours from lives.
Jennie is right you know, time will prove it.
This burning Hell, on Monkton’s Fell, stealing husbands, kids and wives
Two faced. Giver of meagre wealth. Taker of rightful health.
Giant grey Ogre, stalking your neighbours, staring down over their rooftops.
Never still, yet never moving
And always awake
You feed giant, mutant blackberries,
Sneaking rich poisons into our bodies,
Whilst sulphur coats the backs of throats.
Yet beauty lies in your sprawl, metallic music signals your life
Nothing lies beyond your reach
Until we run away.
Creeping into homes, shops, schools,
And the smallest of places;
Lungs, blood, cells, our very DNA
Charging black ants, once green,
Amber eyes, glow high upon their heads.
Lead columns of blind, obedient red ants,
And feed your glowing belly with black breads
You send these servants, to scuttle off
Down George’s, ancient, metal road.
Bearing your steaming fruits, warmth for the many, and riches for a few.
Coating washing lines and window sills
With deceitful “smokeless” gifts and ills
Torrents pour down, subduing insatiable thirst.
Day into night, and back into day,
Then sending, white imposters to joyfully dance your thanks
Billowing high into blue crystal sky
Or coughing sideways, ‘cross the fields
You can’t hold back your anger
Tentacles sweep, lash out, defile
Gripping Hexham, Clyde, and Suffolk
Before releasing, just for a while
Mourning your sisters and brothers,
Their flames and bright arc lights turned off.
Revenge for Norwood, Hawthorn, Lambton,
But still your greatest might and wrath;
Ever unleashed upon little Lukes Lane.
Stunned, snared in your favourite path,
Perhaps because its folk know best, your pungent lies.
Now, tell them again, of smokeless joys, whilst another widow cries
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