by Arthur Wade
Flat,
Featureless,
Foetid;
Muddy as the mass mind of multitudes.
Brown,
Like a sere cloth
Scorched in the flames of Hell.
White,
Slimey white,
Trails of the crawling sea.
Iron,
Torn from the womb of earth,
Geometric.
Protruding ribs,
Spoils of some forest glade,
Now stark and sullen.
Distant and dense,
A gaping press of trees,
Then this –
Wrack and ruin,
Rot and decay,
A mouldering, disintegrating spew,
The coprolitic residue of machines,
Reeking.
Stench of the Gadarine swine
And old fermenting vapours,
Bacchanalian.
Creeping things,
Foul and bestial.
Below and above vision
A mocking sun,
Breeding wind,
Helpless and tied,
Labouring with the land.
Torture and torment,
Where brooding Ahitophel
Sends forth his swarms
With sour cacophony
And sneers –
Lo this, - the handiwork of Man!
Arthur Wade (1947)