To prove your undying love you said you could make it snow.
What are you now, a magician, a conjuror, clown, the Joker? Hahaha.
I detect your urge to display power rather than sentiment,
You tricky buffoon, in purple costume and spinning bow tie,
True to your word you widen your smile, cackle, and make it snow.
So glorious, in minutes, an hour, an afternoon,
The world becomes covered, the sun’s rays hardly knowing
What to do with themselves upon all that virgin whiteness.
“See what I did!” you boom fiendishly, making trees tremble and shake                                       Their shoulders free of their dusty, white epaulettes.
The mountains grumbled you’d given them headaches,                                                                 While birds tweeted symphonies of pure joy.
Tweet, tweeting: Hey, wow, did you see the orange snow in eastern Europe?
African dust storms and pollen lending peachy pink patches to the continental quilt                    Of Bulgarian ski resorts. And that woman, OMG, oranges and lemons, so beautiful                      In yellow against the tangerine of snow that framed her.
See, not everything from the east is a ‘beast’ you stupid fucking imperious                               Jingo-jangling Brexitmotorbreathcraprag and piss poor TV emission.
Hahahahaha, see the Joker tipping fish into the London Thames.
Haaaaheeheee, see the Joker down in Cambridge data mining privacy.
Weeehahhahahhaaa, see the Joker paying off his porno actress fees.
Snick, snick, snicker, see that clown making off with all the loot and family jewels.
Look! Watch him drive away in his comedy clown car, toot-toot, parp, bang,                               Falls to bits, oops, he forgot to attach snow chains to his comedy wheels.
Snow go! Snow joke! The Beast from the East strikes again! Oh FFS the pun of it all!
And, why? Why so serious?
The stuff will have melted by the time you’ve dragged your asses outta bed,
Pulled up your boots and put on your mittens.
Good thing I took pictures. Click. Click. Whirr.
Reminds me of Wilson Bentley and his magnificent slides,
How he photographed snowflakes.
He was no joker, unlike you, racing off to eastern Europe in some insane attempt                       To paint the snow there a cobalt blue.
Wilson Bentley – a Gotham City-esque name if ever, eh?                                                         Diligently cataloguing his Ice-flowers, could teach you a trick or two.
And I’m sorry to pick on you dear Joker, but you kind of deserve it…
And you will do well to hide among clowns until we’re bored of looking for you…
Or get distracted by Eastern summer tournaments and puffed-up superstars…
But like fingerprints collected at the scene of a crime, no two snowflakes are ever the same.      Whistles blow. And justice points you out as the yellow stain you are                                           Sunk deep into the snow.                                                                                                                  Hahaha, who’s laughing now?

Poem and photos by the editor.

Toy images by TVTA. Poster and adverts scanned by TVTA from own collection. Batman and Joker copyright DC.