The Pit Heap (My Feet New Thee Well) Poem by john (called jack) wren

Conceived deep in the bowels of the earth
This hideous foetus escaped an abort
And now stands towering over all around
Born to rule everything, even thought,

From out of that deep darkness of hell
An umbilical cord of iron and wood
Carried waste to stimulate your frame
Day after day from child to manhood.

These containers of iron and wood
Rumbled with a tedious sound,
Embedded in the mind of those
Working in this hell underground

Growing in stature decade after decade
To dominate even the march of time,
Oblivious to cries from men in pain
Wanting freedom from this life of grime


Until at last, resources vanished
And your lifeline closed its door,
Silence filled your many veins
No longer open to explore.

Passing clouds wept gentle tears
That lie soft on your headstone,
In tribute to those brave souls
Whose aching limbs, built thy throne

In mining communities far and wide
It's all that's left of those men bold
Who gave their sweat, blood and life
To give the world, its black gold.

And now, after all this time,
Your covered in grass and shrub,
It suits you well I must admit
But it can't drown the rumble of the tub.