In his Hand

Ode to the Joker.

An explosion rocks the world

The globe occupied with vanity

And in his hand is curled

The gun that holds his humanity

The trigger he will pull

He will be ridden of his grace

The red will splash him so

That he feels fine and full

And the feelings he will face

He will call them foe

 

They give him names to describe his base

His straightjacket is tight, he continues to fight

The world, he believes an arms race

And the people, they fight, this hideous sight

Of their own humanity in their gazes

They call him scapegoat

The fallibility of his actions turns their faces

To the network of their city, where they see phases

Of corruption, and oh, he will gloat

And oh, the chaos he chases

 

His soul is null and void

In his heart, the breath is gone

And though he is devoid

Of a whisper of humanity, the world has not yet undergone

His promise of the end of society

The beginning of revolution

The beginning of his new world

He will introduce a little variety

Into this institution

In his hand a gun is curled

Author's Note

Constructive criticism very much welcome.

Reviews

[Syke]

No direct consistent syllable count, but you do alternate the line sizes which is nice, giving the illusion of form. The rhyme scheme is a little odd, but there and it adds to the poem. No major alliteration, repetition, assonance, etc. but still fun to read. The change of 'in his had is curled' into 'in his hand a gun is curled' was subtle, but nice. Overall an interesting read, but your theme isn't completely obvious unfortunately.