The wash of a polluted tide
Across a pristine shore
An ediface for multi-cultural
Working class and poor

Within a rich elitest
Local council who just show
Their arrogance and their ignorance
Everywhere they go

Social housing
Gives the country
Something to believe
It covers up the light outside
And helps all to achieve

A life that each were given
To attain as well we might
Due possibly to the colour of their skin
And their birth right
Which clearly made it harder
And a tower block became where
Eventually like drift wood
Bobbing in the sea
Surfaces in North Kensington
In the GRENFELL tragedy.

A carbuncle on a bottom, lithe
and perfect soft and tanned
Creating a dark shadow
Down upon the land
Where Ferrari’s and Bugatti’s
Spread their noxious gases wide
Where Harrods and where
Harvey Nichol’s ostentation is denied

A Tower Block from the seventies
Limps into the sky
Where 500 or so poorer people live
And possibly die
Men women and children
Migrants maybe too
Who live in a community
As many others do

A cocktail of nationalities
Look down on the streets below
With insufficient money
Intolerance can grow
With austerity the winds of change
Blow pitilessly and can
Subjugate with relentless force
The dreams of common man

Thus from this unforgiving place
Extremes were seen to be
The ruling class stamped down hard
All felt its authority
It became a continual struggle
For deterioration brings
A wretched and a forlorn countenance
And tends to clip the wings

Imagine for a moment
Your home is in the sky
There is just one means of escape
A marathon on high
An eight and half million upgrade
Along mostly cosmetic lines
Where architects and corporates
Work within confines

Gas boilers and new windows
New flats and a school
A boxing gym a sports area
It was sold and it would call
Up to the many senses
Of the people who lived there
But as the improvements got underway
They came with much despair

They really hadn’t been thought through
lots were impractical they
Cut across fire safety standards
But the residents had no say
The ACM combustible
With its polyethylene core
Was put up to improve the look
And the rest they did ignore

Everything was signed off
And then one night a fire
A fridge blew up on a lower floor
And soon the scene was dire
No access for the fireman
Their equipment far too short
The cladding on the exterior
Rapidly had caught

And the fire spread
Every which way
The tenants knew the score
Sit tight we will rescue you
A mantra to ignore
Get out of there and quickly
But ofcourse many could not
The fire spread every which way
And they knew they had had their lot

No extinguishers en situ
No fire alarms to tell
No sprinklers
Gas pipes fitted
In the means of escape
Stair well
Doesn’t that sound crazy
And a raging fire outside
Giving off such an intense heat
And sickening cyanide

Outside hoses not long enough
And leaping violent flame
That took out the new windows
So rapidly it came
And chunks of it slipped off
And rained down on those on the ground
People began jumping
In their adversity drowned

Waiting for one’s rescue
That turned out to be
The cladding compromised
The conpartmentalisation
All could see
At least 160 waited to be burned
Imagine that, with relatives
Outside all so concerned

No high platforms for rescue
No helicopters they
Would have been used on a forest fire
But here alas no way
Everything was against the wholesale
Rescue as they had said
The residents had made that known
And now many were dead

6 we were told a travesty
And even now to this day
79 the official count
The community though say
160 and growing
And a corporate manslaughter theme
Clearly putting the wind up some
Perhaps the design team!

The architects the installers
The council and MP’s
The bloody tory government
With their cuts and miserly pleas
To think that they were voted back
Despite Jeremy’s worth
The wretchedness of the system
Witnessed a re-birth

And Mrs May’s hung parliament
And the afterflow and pain
As terror struck at Grenfell
And the utter disdain
She showed for the survivors
Did not meet face to face
She became the maybot
Seen as a disgrace

No one from the council
What a hopeless crowd
As for Mrs May
She has nothing to be proud
About we all could feel it
Her distaste for the poor
To have to breathe their Co2
she felt that in her craw

There is no good saying sorry
She blew it big time
They would probably lynch her
It really was a crime
How she had conducted herself
They realise
To vote for her is a madness
That those who did might realise

I say might this austerity
These cuts what they create
Is severity and an open wound
That we must all conflate
For this so unfair a government
Who sides with the banksters who
Will be the death of the uk
As will the EU

The media is biased
We are doomed now to be
Lost in a gory tory story
For all eternity
I hope for an election
Where labour’s swept to power
And all those wretched tory trolls
Wither by the hour

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