Graffiti

Vernal infernal
First day of the first turn
Novus Initium
No pardoned propitium
It burns
A furnace
An oven
Ashes left to feed the Garden soil.

Toil and trouble
There, amidst the rubble
Last Hand the blade drank from two
A quill-pusher left dead
A skin merchant's throat bled
The worm has turned
Piss and blood
And oh so much mud
No man is safe in his home.

Dew Drop
Dropping dew
Then the blade turned and dropped you
Erstwhile cup companion
Found Lucius abandoned
Pilfered and poked and run-through
Eighteen days in
It started and continues anew.

Are there osts in the alley?
Black rain in the valley
Of the narrow and twisted
Should-be-resisted avenues
Brush the sing-song from your shoulders
There's your pride before the fall
It is a murder by numbers
That humbles you all.