The White Horse: Conquest
There's nothing here that says the border
No sudden drastic change of order
No fence or wall or stretch of water
No bullets whizzing back and forth
No armies facing south and north
Just an ink line on a map
Claimed a long long time ago
From the tribe
The other conquered
But now the border is disputed
An age old treaty
Both sides refuted
They say the Devil's in the detail
A victim of interpretation
And of wholesale alteration
By arrogantly grasping nations
Risking deadly confrontations
If talking's not enough
The Red Horse: War
War is such a common thing
You'll always find one happening
Each day the dead-count
Going up
People dying
No one unaffected caring
While those who are can't stop crying
And the peacemakers won't stop lying
Or heed the Doomsday Clock
Politic tick ticking
In a world of disunited nations
The Black Horse: Famine
The food is stacked inside the trucks
Waiting for the "Go"
As men in power
Do their thing
And argue to and fro
The hours turn slowly into days
Still no compromising
While in a nothing stretch of sand
The weak and hungry
Keep on walking
In a restaurant on Times Square
A hundred dollar steak is ordered rare
But after just a bite or two
The waiter's summoned to the table
So the suit can have some fun
His steak he says is overdone
Makes the waiter take it back
And dump it in a ******* sack
The mother is emaciated
Her baby in her arms
The sun beats down
Without mercy
On these barren lands
She barely has the strength to walk
And no desire left to talk
She's just a ripple on the side
Of this tragic rolling tide
In search of food
In search of water
A bit like lambs to the slaughter
But in this silent sick morass
One thing has gone unnoticed
The baby in her arms has stopped crying
A while ago it just stopped dying
The Pale Horse: Death
There are more living than are dead
But of those who have gone
How many died asleep in bed
And how many died in wars instead
Killing one another
Does God keep a sacred roll
Forever totting up the toll
How many added just today
It's quite impossible to say
And do you care anyway?
War dead - two, three hundred million
How long before we hit a billion?
If someone presses the nuclear button
We'll all end up like strips of well cooked mutton
No hand to hand confrontation
No calculated escalation
Instead let's raise a glass
And make a toast
To the apocalyptic ghost
Armageddon
The end of days
At last equality for all
As all ten pins in seconds fall
And not one person's left at all
In the Bible, the Book of Revelations talks of seven seals which the 'Lamb' will break, unleashing a series of divine judgements upon the Earth. The first four seals bring the horsemen of the Apocalypse. These are followed by the martyrs' cry, cosmic disturbances and finally the Silence and the Trumpets, symbolising God's wrath.
For more of my poems see grumpyoldman.blogspot.com
Mar 14
Mar 14, 2026 at 2:39 AM UTC
The White Horse: Conquest
There's nothing here that says the border
No sudden drastic change of order
No fence or wall or stretch of water
No bullets whizzing back and forth
No armies facing south and north
Just an ink line on a map
Claimed a long long time ago
From the tribe
The other conquered
But now the border is disputed
An age old treaty
Both sides refuted
They say the Devil's in the detail
A victim of interpretation
And of wholesale alteration
By arrogantly grasping nations
Risking deadly confrontations
If talking's not enough
The Red Horse: War
War is such a common thing
You'll always find one happening
Each day the dead-count
Going up
People dying
No one unaffected caring
While those who are can't stop crying
And the peacemakers won't stop lying
Or heed the Doomsday Clock
Politic tick ticking
In a world of disunited nations
The Black Horse: Famine
The food is stacked inside the trucks
Waiting for the "Go"
As men in power
Do their thing
And argue to and fro
The hours turn slowly into days
Still no compromising
While in a nothing stretch of sand
The weak and hungry
Keep on walking
In a restaurant on Times Square
A hundred dollar steak is ordered rare
But after just a bite or two
The waiter's summoned to the table
So the suit can have some fun
His steak he says is overdone
Makes the waiter take it back
And dump it in a ******* sack
The mother is emaciated
Her baby in her arms
The sun beats down
Without mercy
On these barren lands
She barely has the strength to walk
And no desire left to talk
She's just a ripple on the side
Of this tragic rolling tide
In search of food
In search of water
A bit like lambs to the slaughter
But in this silent sick morass
One thing has gone unnoticed
The baby in her arms has stopped crying
A while ago it just stopped dying
The Pale Horse: Death
There are more living than are dead
But of those who have gone
How many died asleep in bed
And how many died in wars instead
Killing one another
Does God keep a sacred roll
Forever totting up the toll
How many added just today
It's quite impossible to say
And do you care anyway?
War dead - two, three hundred million
How long before we hit a billion?
If someone presses the nuclear button
We'll all end up like strips of well cooked mutton
No hand to hand confrontation
No calculated escalation
Instead let's raise a glass
And make a toast
To the apocalyptic ghost
Armageddon
The end of days
At last equality for all
As all ten pins in seconds fall
And not one person's left at all
In the Bible, the Book of Revelations talks of seven seals which the 'Lamb' will break, unleashing a series of divine judgements upon the Earth. The first four seals bring the horsemen of the Apocalypse. These are followed by the martyrs' cry, cosmic disturbances and finally the Silence and the Trumpets, symbolising God's wrath.
For more of my poems see grumpyoldman.blogspot.com
