Conquest
An endless cycle
Little men with little minds
Want to rule the world
War
History teaches
The one thing humans do best
Is kill each other
Famine
Human paradox
In a world of such plenty
People are starving
Death
Fact or prophecy
The human race is the next
Endangered species
The Four Knights
Together they rode the dark and muddied lanes,
Hoof-beats echo beneath the sullen trees,
Escaping from a soul just newly slain,
Forcing death on faith they sought to please.
Open wounds laid bare on hallowed floors
Unleashing now the way to paradise,
Regret was never felt by sharpened swords,
Keen-edged they chose to sever, stab and splice.
Never should this day be long forgot,
In years to come the pain would leave a scar,
Goodness died when evil hatched this plot,
Heralding the pilgrims from afar.
Tomorrow would four lives be surely tried,
Spared only by the love of he who died.
famine my brother war and pestilence
come with me
we ride thru crimson skies tonight
angels demons humans will cry tonight
don't stop the onslaught together we ride
the hell has broken thru this night
people have sinned
the pedophiles the rapists
we must kill all
all the scum
tonight we wipe there blood from are swords
ride now collect my skulls !
I will be there when each one falls
I am the horsemen you see in the shadows
I linger above you when your in the gallows
I am death the pale rider
I am one of 3 brothers foul
we disassemble you, poison starve and wage war on you
there is nothing you can do you are a weak fool
bow to the horsemen we ride just for you
the hell do you feel it its seeping thru,
i am the pale rider there is no equal
even tho black horse doesn't think so
the red horse and i ,we kill in time
were getting ready now
to take your lives
I saw the Four Horsemen -
the famous apocalypse guys.
They rode silently past neatly folded laundry,
They approached me in silence,
their breathe a rye and meadow wind.
Each of them in turn,
gliding ghostlike past where I sat,
watching steam on the mirror
grow cold.
War had no use for me,
past my prime, bum knee.
Not even as cannon fodder.
Famine had little to work with,
I had known hunger, want, poverty,
nothing he had could scare me.
Pestilence likewise dismissed me out of turn,
for which I’ll be forever grateful,
probably too sedentary to spread the touch.
And Death, well, we all must dance,
but today is not the day, now not the hour,
Death merely bid me good day.
And then they were gone, their vacancy tangible,
while I decided to look up embolisms or strokes,
trying to close this doorway into myself.
Until I saw the tracks in the talcum powder,
heard the soft whicker of horse,
and tasted their life on my tongue.
HORSEMEN ON THE JORDAN
Deep in the dark, hid from all prying eyes
the horsemen rein their steeds to steady gait
waiting for time, they know how time it flies,
from peace to war, from times in love to hate.
Sure feet tread on, and in a steady trot,
no fear of night--their eyes can always see
as swift as eagles, giving all they've got
they'll fall upon the world most certainly.
Do gooders cry the foul, but they have failed
for man grows weary singing loves old song,
and Jesus was the man whom doubt has nailed
not caring if the truth is right or wrong.
Down by the Jordan they know what's in store
and beat their plowshears to all things of war.
© ron wilson akaveebdosa the doylestown poet
Prancing proud, the horses come
Hoofbeats loud sound thru the land
Marching to an unseen drum
Beaten by an unseen hand
First a snow white horse drew nigh
Whose rider held an ivory bow
He shot the stars from out the sky
And dealt the sun a fatal blow
Next appeared a horse of red
Its rider raised a scarlet sworde
'Come and see' the Four Beasts said
'Now Peace hath fled from all the world'
Third did come a coal black mare
Its rider carried scales of Gold
Famine struck the thoroughfare
And starveling sons their mothers sold
Last a pale horse did appear
Hell did follow in its wake
Tortured Souls, cold and austere
Nailed their brethren to the stake
Now the solemn church bells sound
Calling all to Midnight Mass
Now the dying gather round
Now the final hours pass
Endless years of toil and flood
Mark the ages from Christ's birth
'When wilt Thou avenge our blood
On them that dwell upon the earth?'
When told to tow the lines
In steno-scopic sight,
Rebellious of the signs
Fight for your right to fight.
Presented with the guff
That all shall be all-right,
Predictably it’s rough
Fight for your right to fight.
Narcissistically!
Opposability!
Demonstrability!
Vindicability!
Welcome to the kingdom
Where will is just a blight,
Just a severed symptom
Fight for your right to fight.
Septic it may happen
In day or maybe night,
Shy of what you reckon
Fight for your right to fight.
Narcissistically!
Opposability!
Demonstrability!
Vindicability!
Lorded over ever
I’ll see the victor’s height,
Falling to the never
Fight for my right to fight.
I’ll beckon and I’ll win
From darkish into white,
Embedded in my skin
The simple right to fight!
Vindicability!
14/09/2013 ADO
Copyright 2013 Adam Parker
You know they are coming
See the dust in the air
Feel the ground tremble beneath your feet.
Can't quite see them
But you know they are there
Suddenly your face is white as a sheet.
The Horsemen are riding
Your world is ending
No use complaining it just isn't fair.
Swords scything down
Trumpeting stallions
The battle is over so don't even care.
Man's castles are falling
His caverns no respite,
Armies are dust in a flash of might.
The judgement is binding,
The deep dead are rising,
Their sad faces form in the fading light.
You're torn and your tattered,
The scent of blood heavy
Old Earth is shaking, you try to run.
The darkness is closing
You better be ready
The Horsemen are coming, the end has begun!
At the sound of the first horn, the joke becomes ill,
And there is just no amount of comedic skill,
That can hide its indecency, but try he will,
And despite its poor taste, he will use it still.
Upon the second horn, The Heckler appears,
And the joke is now met with insensitive jeers,
“Is that all you’ve got?!” he does scoff as he sneers,
And upon confrontation he sits there and leers.
The third horn is sounded and Silence arrives,
And of applause and of laughter he cruelly deprives,
Starving the joke of the food he derives,
From the merriment upon which every joke thrives.
The last horn is sounded and the final death stroke,
Is dealt upon our poor unfortunate joke,
He lets out a wheeze and gives a small choke
And at last did our poor whimsy finally croak.
‘Tis the end of the line for our jolly old friend,
And there is no amount of first aid that could mend,
The injuries to what the comedian penned,
For our tired joke has met its sweet end.
The sweet sweat of salsa
So that I've forgotten the after hours
Like an eclipse that shades out of me
Looking back, the future was bright
I could hear the words of later years
How we soak into gravitys fortune
At the time, I was speaking nonsense
I remember how the ears fell flat
And sordid bodies stumbled into place
Still, with all my resistance I traveled
Bartered with my soul to remake the light
So I could come back without a fight
When I get through without fighting
Life has fashioned an emerald prize
Bestowed on horsemen with clear horizons
they walked along
weathered, carrying their guns;
like the four horsemen…
down to the O.K.
guns blazing, bullets flying;
smoke clears, the strong stand…
The Four Horses went riding
as I trotted 'round in shame
Two worlds were colliding
and I felt the flame
So here I am in hiding
for I am to blame
Now, Four Horses are dividing
and calling out my name
"SARAJEVO" the horsemen
Have you seen the town beyond the hill?
They torched it only yesterday,
see still it burns, and surely will
until the smoke all clears away.
Have you seen the people living there?
They chained them only yesterday,
and locked them in to death, and dare--
the world to have a thing to say!
Have you seen the hope, once in their eyes?
They killed it only yesterday;
it's buried here, yes here it lies,
so deep within this Balkan clay.
Have you seen the hate we've seen before?
it shrouds the best of plans we lay
and calls the horsemen on some more,
from graves where they can never stay.
War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price o’ life.
Famine comes upon black horse
fillin the gullet o’ Deaythe’s strife.
War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price o’ life
Power swings War’s blood red swuird
the weak an’ the old suffice.
War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price o’ life.
Conquest raises mighty bow
crownin’ Kings with rare delight.
War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s just the price o’ life
on pale horse the banshee rides
binna matter what your fief.
In deayth we fertilize the field
Life is aw an’ Deaythe's real.
*In the style of Robert Burns
War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price of life.
Famine’s black horse
fills the gullet of Deaythe’s strife.
War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price of life
Power swings Wars red sword
the weak an’ young suffice.
War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price of life.
Conquest raises its mighty bow
crowning Kings with delight.
War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s is just the price of life
on pale horse the banshee rides
no matter the what your fief.
We are the fertilzer of the field
for life is all and deayth is real.
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