The Joker

Somewhere beneath those lights of Gotham
down there in the depths of Hell
where rats walk
and broken souls do dwell
sits the Joker
his grimacing smile a spell.

Like a spider rising from his web
he moves like a virtual Undead
oh, what a tale could be told
beneath his smile so eery bold
his eyes dark and shadowy
his laugh a demon's cacophony
his face white as the moon
his lips red like battlefields
covered on the Day of Doom.

His heart is a castle dark
devoid of life
or any spark
his sole mission now
is to bring the Batman down.

And so on this moonlit night
where wolf howls give you fright
and the birds they do not sing
only vultures circling
and Death's skull rides his horse
Hope's rays have gone off course.

The Joker dances in the street
odd cloven hooves for feet
to a dreadful dreary beat
no soul, just body heat.

And now Batman you must hear
the Joker's laughing jeer
you knew this time would come
to face the final drum.

And on the streets of Gotham today
underneath clouds cold and gray
the Batman met his end
a message to Robin one must send.

So Fate has shuffled his deck of cards
like mannequins at Mme. Toussard's
the Joker has beaten the Ace
woe betide Gotham's human race.


-The Joker
a poem written on this Feast of Fools
Wednesday, April 1st 2009
by Dracul Van Helsing