by Allyn Smith

Created on: March 14, 2011

Horses of Armageddon

Hurry the maps, direct the call
for the horses of Armageddon to start their fall
Make way the trail unto their stall
Be it building, pasture, city or hall
Be it mother, father or children small

Hide in a crevice or a crack
A year, month, day and hour if you’re able to keep track
To count salt grains of water and food black
and mourn for the days when you look back

and knew the prophet’s tomes were quack

The lions roar when they raise their head
Like swarming locusts hungry for battle they’ll be led
with their teeth sharpened for a third, dead
As blazing torches they’ll race ahead
As hundred pound bricks till earth is fed

Who is the one that can tame this hoard
These fierce horses of pestilence coming from the Lord
Who can stand with a shield or a sword
To demand they take a bit and chord
To make them obey and turn toward

Hide in a cistern or a grave
With whatever arrogance of power you might save
With all accomplishments you might rave
In the pure and righteous alms you gave
In the pleadings of repent you wave

Armies launch their missiles of course
But two hundred million stallions cull their source
They’ve no fear of battle and laugh at force
For flaming arrows have no remorse
For stampeding herds heed no recourse

Hide in a fortress or a tank
Maybe the buzzard will fear your stature and swank
Maybe worms will serve under your rank
For His fire burns front, back and flank
For His smoke swallows the hope you drank

Scientists try but they can’t explain
Why their prophets on mountains didn’t see the plain
To even know of its birth is vain
By their thought, theory or computer chain
By their math, physics or quantum gain

Jasmine horses flung upon the coast
bright with reigns of Jesus and saddles of Holy Ghost
harnessed by the Father of the host
As plagues of messengers without boast
As plagues of trumpets and woes that post

Hide from their wrath like Egypt of old
when their first born died to free His children from their fold
For this herd of stars, as scrolls unfold
Will free the earth from its sinful hold
Will free the truth from what Egypt sold

Soon, like all servants, horses will rest
Prancing, playing in green pastures, eating of the best
For, of all creatures, they’re most blessed
To bare the heavenly host coalesced
To bare the King of Kings and His crest

In the brightness of His glory
for the reaping of His harvest

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