Walking Towards The Gate
Walking and walking, forever walking towards the gate
what lies on the other side? What is one’s fate?
Is it heaven? Is it Hell?
is it a place where we can dwell?
Or is it nothing? Nothing at all.
On mortal flesh, worms do crawl
but as for a soul- no chance at all.
And so we walk
and occasionally talk
towards the gate that awaits us all.
-A poem written by Christopher
Sunday evening February 17th 2013.
Green Tea For A Green Dragon
Green tea for a green dragon
because he was on the wagon
his early days he spent drinking green absinthe
which caused him to lose his common sense
and so this led him to join AA
to escape the clutches of the green fair-ee.
Although he was no Oscar Wilde
he was considered a precious child
-a youthful 1000 years-
at concerts he gave many bronx cheers
and although he tried to be another Charles Baudelaire
his style of French just could not compare
and so he tried painting like Toulouse-Lautrec
but only ended up a nervous wreck
and he lost the chance to meet Hemingway
when he missed the train at Santa Fe.
And so his youth was misspent
he had no money to pay the rent
and thus he ended up on the street
where gangsta dudes made fun of his feet.
“I can’t help being a dragon,” said he
burying his heart at wounded knee
and so he went on the wagon
this absinthe drinking green dragon
and that’s why these days you’ll only see
our hero dragon drinking green tea.
-A poem written by Christopher
circa 3:28 PM Saturday afternoon
February 16th 2013.
The Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre Rap
The Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre Rap
(to be sung to the tune of any rap song since they all sound the same anyway)
There was a mobster named Al Capone
a mobster without a cell phone
namely because they hadn’t been invented yet
but Capone always took what he could get
He lived in the Prohibition era
before the days of Mariah Cara
I know that’s supposed to be ‘e-y
but heck I’m a rhyming guy
but back to Chicago and Capone’s tie
was quite big
for an Italian gig
who hated Moran’s Irish jig.
Now Bugsy Moran controlled the North Side
Irish mobsters took people for a ride
and Capone controlled the South Side
no one could tan his Italian hide.
Well ’twasn’t long before the big show down
which certainly outshot any bordello blow down
It was Saint Valentine’s Day
and Big Al said Hey
let’s give Bugsy a little present
and I’m not talking roast pheasant.
For 7 of Moran’s boys
it wasn’t pleasant
they were mowed down like a feudal peasant
mowed down with sub-machine guns
with Capone’s boys moving like they had the runs.
It was 1929 that they bit the dust
same year the markets went bust
Now Capone really knew how to cross the line
when he said to Bugsy Moran,
you’re my Bloody Valentine.
-A poem about the Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre
which occurred February 14th 1929
when 7 members of Bugsy Moran’s
North Side Irish Gang
were gunned down in a garage in North Chicago
by members of Al Capone’s South Side Italian Gang
-written by Christopher
Thursday Night February 14th 2013
St. Valentine’s Day 2013.
Renfield Frolics In Nevada While Blizzard Hits Northeastern U.S. And Canada
The following blog entry is taken from a vampire novel I’m currently in the process of writing. In fact, it’s the particular vampire novel chapter I wrote today:
RENFIELD FROLICS IN NEVADA WHILE BLIZZARD HITS NORTHEASTERN U.S. AND CANADA
As a huge blizzard paralyzed the northeastern U.S. and Atlantic Canada, Renfield R. Renfield was busy frolicking on the Cottontail Ranch in Nevada.
Amadeus Emanon sat in the ranch house’s waiting room quietly sipping tea while a group of scantily clad, topless and short skirted women asked him, “Is there anything else we can do for you, sir?”.
“No, I’m quite happy with the tea, honey and lemon you’ve served me,” Amadeus smiled as he sipped his tea.
A huge banging sound could be heard coming from the room upstairs.
“Are you doing some renovating?” Amadeus asked the short skirted topless blonde woman who was sitting on top of the registry desk with her legs uncrossed.
“No, that would be your friend banging upstairs, sir,” was the woman’s reply.
“I didn’t even know Renfield had studied carpentry,” Amadeus looked quizzical.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to do some banging yourself?” a topless slit skirted Asian woman with spiked stiletto black leather leather boots asked Amadeus.
“No, I never studied carpentry,” was Amadeus’ answer.
The women in the room sighed.
“Did you even study high school biology?” a short skirted woman with a Jamaican accent asked Amadeus.
“No, I never went to school having been genetically cloned in a lab,” was Amadeus’ reply, “I taught myself by reading the books in my boss the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set’s library but I never got around to looking at the biology section.”
The women looked at one another in huge disbelief even though what Amadeus said was the complete truth.
“And was your friend genetically cloned in a lab as well?” asked the woman from Mumbai, India who was only wearing a red lingerie slip and black silk nylons.
“He was,” Amadeus nodded.
“But it sounds from the noise coming upstairs he got around to reading the biology section of your boss’ library,” the topless short skirted blonde asked him.
“He did,” Amadeus smiled as he finished his tea.
“Oh God, oh God,” a woman’s voice from upstairs screamed in sure ecstasy.
“Renfield must have done a wonderful job renovating your friend’s room from the response your friend gave upstairs,” Amadeus looked in the direction of the ceiling.
“No doubt,” the slit skirted woman from Shanghai said.
“But he must be charging an arm and a leg for his work,” Amadeus stated sympathetically, “as you seem not able to afford much clothes to pay for his renovations.”
All the women just stared at Amadeus in shock.
“I’m finished,” Renfield came bounding down the stairs while putting on his clothes at the same time.
“I never knew you did carpentry work,” Amadeus put his tea cup down on the registry counter, “and what’s more I never knew you did carpentry work in the nude.”
Renfield looked at Amadeus in confusion, “What the fuck are you talking about?”.
“Well, he wasn’t talking about what you just mentioned,” the red lingerie clad Indian woman replied, “he was talking about carpentry.”
To be continued.
Instruments Of Death
Man throwing paper airplane: Why the Hell am I never able to kill anyone by throwing this thing at them?
Man Hugging Tiger
Man: I don’t think I shall ever see a poem as lovely as a tree.
Tiger: You need glasses, mate. I was the subject of one of William Blake’s poems not Joyce Kilmer’s.
Skull and Bones of Richard III Found and Identified
A skeleton found beneath a Leicester car park in England has been confirmed as that of English king Richard III.
The discovery was made in a city council car park back in August 2012.
DNA testing from the University of Leicester confirmed the skeleton as being that of England’s King Richard III who was portrayed as an arch villain in William Shakespeare’s play Richard III.
Rumour has it that the skull when dug up in the car park said, “A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!” while in the background a worker’s radio played the Joni Mitchell song, “… paved paradise and put up a parking lot”.
-A commentary written by Christopher Van Helsing
Monday, February 4th 2013
Healings In The Animal Kingdom
Voice of Pentecostal Tiger Cub Minister to pup seeking healing:
And I say unto you demon of dog flu and cold… COME OUT!
Dracul Van Helsing 
London 1888
February 24, 2013 at 5:48 pm (Commentary, Horror, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Poetry) (Jack The Ripper, London 1888, serial killers)
Jack was nimble
Jack was quick
Jack snuffed out life’s candlestick
he cut like a knife
no one’s wife
but women of the night
he left a grisly sight
the streets of London were his killing fields
to death’s sharp edge some one yields
and the Ripper ripped
while aristocrats sipped
from glasses of champagne
and Jack achieved immortal fame.
-A poem about the world’s first
vastly publicized serial killer
Jack the Ripper
who terrorized the streets of London
in 1888.
-written by Christopher
Monday February 11th 2013.
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