THE EDICTS

There shall be no murder on Sunday.                              There shall be no murder by stone.

There shall be no murder by blade.

There shall be no murder by toxin.

There shall be no murder by fang.

There shall be no murder by claw.

There shall be no murder by dirt.

There shall be no murder by demolition. 

There shall be no murder by wasting.

There shall be no murder by tree.

There shall be no murder by flood.

There shall be no murder be destitution.

There shall be no murder by fist.

There shall be no murder by fire. 

These edicts go on they go on.  
Unceasing flutes. 

Put that needle away, 
Das Kapital. 
                                    
The wing is 
the sonata at sunrise.