Oaken Wood

A coppiced ancient woodland
Sweet chestnuts
Lots of light and many poles
A generous cover
For woodland souls so bright
50 hectares brimming
With life force every day
A splendid seasonal cover
A truly perpetual way
Imagine 70 football pitches
All that ancient graft
To create a vile extension
To a quarry so much craft
Put down by the natural order
Bluebells azure light
Dog mercury and Anemones
Pollen attractants fight
The imbalances surrounding
Humanity today
The dormice and the silent bats
And reptiles
Quietly they
Go about their beautiful little lives
So quietly we
Create a vile explosion
And an end to honesty

Arrogance and ignorance
Cancerous belief
A system of such evil
Bonded with such grief
The blessings of creation
The lack of intuition
Enthralled by the pulsation
A scrimping pinching mission

A huge an ugly quarry
Insensibility
The nonchalance of the unconcerned
Such indifference feels to me
The real exaltation of a forest
Left to feel
The joyfulness of natural growth
The honesty is real

I must assert the loathsomeness
Of turning great blind eyes
To so much honest beauty
Unpalatably
Such lies
In destroying all this wonderment
For a disgusting hole
Creating botheration