Coal courses through my veins
Blood as black as oil
Run through my engines
Cogs and pistons
Machines ticking over in my soul.
My skin is red
Covered in hard ground dirt
Black country
Fiery pits
Dark riven ploughed earth.
This is the heart of all industry
Once so proud, once so alive
People with a purpose
Working
To keep these furnaces ablaze.
Now canals that once flowed
Stand still and stagnant with scum
Flecks of russet
Deep seated in my chains and rotors
Infect them with rust.
Drawing slowly to a halt
The machines grow silent
Wiped away
In the rush of the clean, easy, money
Of the jobless elite.
As industry dies
So too do the midlands.
23/01/2014
S J Menary
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