The Horses

Police Horses

stood snorting by the wayside

their breath like mist

in the winter morning air.

 

We could see them,

knew that soon

they would be ready, batons drawn

strange how pigs can ride horses,

we had stood firm against the footpigs

we had a cause to believe in, our jobs.

 

Then They Came.

 

A trot, a canter, a charge

into us, bodies trampled by hooves

heads ripped by batons, the blood of

men and beast mixed on this winters morn

for to be sure we took some of them

and their bastard horses,

we ripped and tore them

as they ripped and tore us,

no winners, not today, tomorrow?

we will see, the strike goes on.