The Centrifuge

Black chimneys spout billowing venom

Of brazened iron, delirious with steam

Flooding the gridiron lattice-workings 

With bustling fury and hastening speed

And ferocious pistons kneading slick steel

In split-pulsing, rattle-trancing tension

Conjuring the mighty rites of Foundry.

Levers, pulleys, switches, each rampant

Like unchained fetters off a Cerberus

Eager to unleash dormant capabilities

And lend Rage to the world's dismantling.

Crackles of hideous fumes propelled

Through wilted notches of pipe patchwork

And ascending to the upper atriums and galleys

Where beading vapor trace-lets take riddled form

As unrelenting tensions compose mechanic rhythms

In homage to the sacrilegious names Rate and Quantity.

Hell-winds spew panicked pandemonium through circuitry

As the rebelling flames in furnaces expel their lungs of soot.

The Foreman, decked in similar shades of misery, pulls the chain

Commanding the conveyer belt-spanning Centrifuge to grinding halt-

A cog must be replaced.

It must have met Erosion.