A couple of weeks back I was at the Timber Festival in a forest grown on old slag heaps left from the coal industry. One of the speakers was Simon Armitage the Poet Laureate who ha been studying climate change for years and years and has talked to some of the great scientists involved in the COP process. He asked one eminent Professor how bad is it, and he replied do you want to know the truth ? It's worse than you can ever imagine. But he said there is always a glimmer of hope, but not much.
Futurama
I crawl out onto the rooftop
above the world’s junkshop,
lean against the warm chimney
and eyeball the city.
The vibe is … let’s say ethereal,
rows of TV aerials
spelling out HEAVEN,
spelling out ARMAGEDDON.
It’s T minus zero
of the Petroleum Era –
all my neighbours
are burning tomorrow’s newspapers
in their back-gardens,
getting their alibis sharpened.
As the hours evaporate
I say to my spirit
I can’t really pilot
this smouldering twilight
over the scars and crevasses,
but I’ll put on my best sunglasses
and steer the cockpit of morning
into the oncoming.