Anonymole – apocryphal agitators

Prognostications
Of ill tidings, generally
instill indifference.

She murmurs portents
her eyes glazed, lips quivering
wealth, fame, betrayal.

So it is foretold
your ruin, etched in the stars
the party begins.

A cookie’s fortune
predicts a love encounter
but first, pay your bill.

Raven augurs death
peals of thunder echo on
lightning leaves a mark.

Memento Mori
Remember that you must die
each moment, precious.