The Black Joker [*Sonnet*]


Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit


What next, my friend, what next?  The black abyss
Is always there. Black joker in the pack.
Be grateful everything is as it is—
Not blackest fate of fates, the blackest black.

Not a day goes by but brings its new drama.
Your job’s going well and then you get the sack.
‘What did I do?’ you cry. ‘Is this my karma?’
Your dearest love will stab you in the back

One day. And when that happens, you will ask
‘Did I deserve this?’  The look in the eyes
Of the one who betrayed you when the mask
Was ripped away! — o cruellest surprise!

Come, draw down the blinds and blot out the sun.
Tie your last noose, my friend, you’ve had your fun.

Lasha Darkmoon

Dr Lasha Darkmoon (b.1978) is an Anglo-American ex-academic with higher degrees in Classics whose political articles and poems have been translated into several languages. Most of her political essays can be found at The Occidental Observer and The TruthSeeker. Her own website,, is now within the top 1 percent of websites in the world according to the Alexa ranking system.

6 thoughts to “The Black Joker [*Sonnet*]”

  1. Best to shoot “black joker” between the eyes. This little poem is too depressing! Never let ’em take you alive, Lasha!

    (The Lord made some men large, some men small;
    Some men short, and some men tall;
    But Sam Colt made ’em all equal…)

    1. @ Gilbert Huntly

      Yep, equality for women too, young and old.

      Yes, the poem is depressing and I’m sure everyone has had their turn wallowing in their mire. Fortunately, many years ago, it dawned on me that finding the source of all my problems was as simple as looking in the mirror (no, I did not learn that from a Michael Jackson song). A person only has control of one person, the one in the mirror. If things are to be different, the perspective of the one in the mirror must change. Blaming fate, God, karma, or anyone else never makes things different.

  2. Indeed it is, when I recall the day,
    the day the fates graced me with her,
    to be my first, a pleasure, far more dear than any diamond.
    there was not ‘needing’
    on her part or mine.
    Her gift was just that, to be returned in kind,
    with gladness.
    And there others, and many a fair day, and shall.
    And I have played the black one, and well.
    I have met angels.
    When death greets me, after her long and unhurried walk
    fair enough. She bids me dance, I will not refuse.

  3. I missed it, Virgil’s intention, what an ass I can be.
    Some hurtful events in one’s life I think honestly can never be reconciled, not so much those torments we suffered as much as the memory of those wrongs we inflicted on others. It is far easier to forgive another than to be truthful about oneself.
    And the sufferings I undergo now later in my life, I think perhaps better to pay the dues sooner than later, so yes, there is a element of joy in that. We learn, we hopefully in this life if, necessary, progress from darkness to good. At least in our orientation.
    But the overall tone of your sonnet was depressing, ignoring the other side of the coin, to wit: there is a abundance of joy and beauty in life. Yes, yes, yes – horrible evil. But great happiness too. And my goodness, all the wonderful corporeal and intangible pleasures here. Even if – others later fail us it does not detract one wit from the moment. And all the natural pleasures of the earth – it’s not just people.
    So that’s why I say, death come on. We’re never ready of course, but come on anyway. Fair enough.
    Do you know there is a tale of Death, that she is so beautiful to see that she literally takes one’s breath away?

Comments are closed.