head slips, blood drips and
the riders are coming
one for slow rot and the scent of dust (his horse wheezing, his heat
weltering)
two for starving love and lewd eyes, pulling at your skin with his gaze
three for the monger and her mongrel, blood-hungry both
four for four, spelling doom with the rat-tat-tat of her horseshoes on stone
the apocalypse is on the horizon and it smells
like spring and desert sand
we say, welcome change in this barren land
for this revolution is ours
when the world ends we may breathe easy.
our hearts are beating fast with new knowledge,
terrible and great and beyond the cast of our mortal eyes
they will purge the world but how can famine
lay judgment on the hungry
and how can death
take those without hot blood in their veins?
conquer all you like but we the people
will not acknowledge you, you cannot exist
to non-believers
feel your gorge rise because
sick as we are, sick of this world
our bellies are too full for your disease
we will hide ourselves in ashes and on,
on you will move
galloping away on steeds of fire and flame
the dead rising in your wake