Black smoke rises into the air
Polluting, thick billowy clouds dissipate
There is a fire down below.
Burning eyes , lungs exploding
Oil hanging heavily, covering the surface with slug
There is a fire down below.
Thick, tarry, black , a floating death trap
Destruction floating on each crashing wave
There is a fire down below.
In the deep abyss of the sea
Gushing endlessly, destroying
There is a fire down below.
It needs to be extinquished
This black oil crude
To stop the fire from below.
Dearest V.C. –
Youngsters saw it:
The vicar’s holy inscription
Borne by native vergers
Of foreign-hearted gods!
Remember
Canaan’s voyage then
Was so long: so unthot of
For some weavers
At the hour of inscription;
Some weavers readily flew away
Some weavers flew into the nest
For loss of the day’s wings –
At night
There was a howl
(Prof, a roused lad heard it!)
Men clashed with pig-watchers
Fire broke out:
On the road to the weaver’s reus
A huge fire broke out
Near the freedom-square!
Darest Vicar –
Who started this fire from straws
Gathered by the weavers?
Was this flame intent
For the misery of the remaining birds?
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