Naturally manmade.
Ben Dunne.
Take a stroll, relax a little long while,
perplexed by the scenery, look far off.
Sigh in disgust, far off, up at the vile,
foul foundries of industry, let a cough,
clear your throat, clear your mind, refresh yourself.
Imagine the horizon is clear of,
the multiple stacks, the singular shelf.
Pay homage to your surroundings, a dove,
soaring, probably choking, upon gas.
Shake your head, slowly, shake in partial shame,
staring out the murky polluted grass.
Hatred, burning intense, like a white flame,
where is it? The keystone of it all, cure,
our beautiful, original, nature?
