Fox Kerry
1 min readAug 5, 2022
(Digital Art by this poet)

Batman has fallen
forgotten his name
Fevers have swollen
death swoon for some fame
Nobody answers
since nobody’s lame
and everyone doctors
straight-placing their claim
the music it hollars
screams forth strangest aim
and everyone laughters
out under some rain
the preachers sing darkness
and each one’s the same
money for ashes
and ashes for game
the monster though hunts us
its hunger unswain
and everyone dances
half owning their blame
hating to listen
with ears in their strain
they plug every hallway
and steal from each plane
as time crashes downward
they repeat certain flame
alive like magicians
with wands in their throats
gasping for water
just bumping in moats
the dragon looks downward
he too goes his fate
but gladly, by crazy
he travels on date
rings on our fingers
quite heavy as stone
we kiss at it’s talon
beg leave us alone.
but mercy it knows none
forgotten for storms
so slowly, by slowly
out come all it’s worms
his teeth are the leastest
for something much louder
gnashes for answer
hungry for chowder
we remember the old days
where prayer’s could be spoken
but now in the wirlwind
we’ve lost even that token …

Fox Kerry

If you paint for me even one thing which is true, perhaps I’ll be tempted to consider two. I tell tales poetically, someone else needs to set them to music.