The Four Horsemen

Another morning  brings newscast
Blood pours from the radio waves
Mingles with coffee and toast
A wounded globe cries anguish
To the frying bacon.

It is said in scriptures so old
That the book in the lord hands
Contained seven seals
The first four were
Conquest War
Famine and Death

Riders of the apocalypse.
On White red and
black pale horses
Are they running free now?

I must understand
it has always been so.
Every marble statue of
Civilization and renascence.
Gilded in a filigree
of pain and sorrow.

Sipping coffee
from a familiar mug
I dream back
to my distant youth.
Where the pains
were merely personal and human.
Loves lost death of pets and youths
failures of innocent passion.

Now emasculated and helpless
I sit in my chair.
over the kingdom I rule
Seeking innocence
in the poisoned air.
Emperor of a frozen country