It's astonishing. I just sign up to it and asked for a poem about 'Sludge Factory' and although it didn't come up with a ditty about our left wing, right-handed palm pounder it came up with this within 3 seconds:

In the heart of industry's relentless churn,
Lies a place where molten dreams do burn,
A factory of sludge, a world of grime,
Where shadows dance in the muck and slime.

Beneath a smog-choked, ashen sky,
Where steel behemoths reach up high,
The sludge factory's fires never tire,
In its bowels, a ceaseless, burning pyre.

Machinery clangs, an iron symphony,
As workers toil in this dark cacophony,
Their faces etched with sweat and soot,
In the sludge factory, life's no tenderfoot.

From the ore, they forge their wares,
Amidst the filth and noxious airs,
With soot-stained hands, they craft their art,
In this world of industry's beating heart.

But in this place where dreams seem lost,
And the price of progress is the greatest cost,
A glimmer of hope can still be found,
In the beauty of things, both lost and found.

For in the sludge's murky flow,
Beneath the grime and the ceaseless woe,
Lie treasures of forgotten grace,
In this factory's desolate embrace.

So, remember, amidst the sludge and grime,
The resilience of the human spirit's prime,
In the sludge factory's relentless thrum,
Hope and art can still overcome.