The Headless Horseman of the Apocalypse

I wrote this wild poem four years ago as a response to the upcoming election between Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton. The conversations then were not that unlike what is being said now, as many could not imagine that Trump could win the election. As we all know he did win and is now trying once more. Only time will tell. It is amazing how the muck of politics goes on and on and the alligators in the swamp keep getting fatter and fatter.

Riding through the dark night of the soul

Comes a headless horseman on a golden steed

Snorting fire and ashes he rides with great speed

No one can stop the galloping Spector

No Donkey nor Elephant, not Fox nor Hound

No one dare be so bold

As the ghastly night round him grows cold

He defies all those who would slow him down

Many have tried and been left on the ground

Some have screamed and some have yelled

But nothing can stop the apocalyptic wail

Out of the swamp through the fog of night

Rides the horseman of the apocalypse

leaving all in a fright

He comes charging the bridge in full moonlight

Not a myth not a tale nor a short lived wail

Will rise up to challenge with ghastly pale

The pending disaster that rides on his tail

In the morning sun he’ll surely be restricted

It was not true as many souls predicted

He’s here for now and he’ll be for a spell

This wild man with no head has tales to tell

The powers tried to slow him down

In that midnight hour as he rode into town

But the pumpkin wielding warrior

Simply brought scare and horror

To politicians far and wide

Bringing chaos and confusion now all is lost

He won’t stop till that last bridge is crossed

********

Painting: Dwight L. Roth

37 thoughts on “The Headless Horseman of the Apocalypse

  1. Pingback: The Headless Horseman of the Apocalypse – Ketut Orsen www Bali Sendiyaza Tour

  2. Well expressed and, sadly, still very pertinent. Since the “galloping Spector” doesn’t believe in building bridges between people and nations, I would like to change just one word in the last line of your poem to read: “He won’t stop till that last bridge is burned”

    Liked by 1 person

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