Marianne de Lilith

June 13, 2020 at 10:18 pm (Culture, Detective story, Fantasy, Gothic romance, Literature, Poetry, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )


Marianne de Lililth

Carson Cody Albion sat in his private eye office
From his window, he could get a good view of parts of the city burning
The private eye felt hungry so he ordered a pizza to be delivered to his office

Unbeknownst to Albion, the courier got his orders mixed-up
A pizza that was to be delivered to the leader of a rival gang
A gang in opposition to the gang that owned the pizza shop
Was delivered to Albion instead

The pizza contained several doses of toad venom
Luckily for Albion the pizza cook got his recipe books mixed up
He did not sprinkle enough toad venom on the mozzarella to deliver death
Only enough to give the eater a high

Although Albion might not have died anyways
He was immortal
Having drunk breast milk from the lovely knockers of
the Syro-Phoenician goddess Atargatis back on VE-Day
May 8th 1945

Albion ate the pizza
and drank his bourbon
And soon he was off on a hallucinogenic trip
That would have made Samuel Taylor Coleridge green with envy
For there was no storytelling sailor with an albatross around his neck
Nor a Kubla Khan in Xanadu stately decreeing a pleasure dome

Rather this sight greeted his senses

Marianne de Lilith

I am Marianne de Lilith
said the sexy redheaded witch

Well, Marianne, said Albion,
I love the way you’re holding that broomstick.

Bats flew in the light of the full moon
Behind the dead desolate tree.

“This is but a vision of the mind,” Albion reflected
“As I don’t think the Farmer’s Almanac called for a full moon this evening.”

“The tree behind me died as a result of being watered with toad venom,”
Marianne explained.
“That is a shame,” Albion reflected as he threw his cigarette lighter at Marianne’s feet.
Albion crawled over to pick it up.

“I’m reminded of fishing season for some reason,” Albion remarked as he gazed up her stockings and her skirt.
A spiked stiletto high-heeled shoe crushed his hand.

“This never happened to John Candy when he made a splash with his loose change aboard that boat,” Albion grimaced with pain.

Albion soon found himself in Marianne’s shack.
He started whistling that song “What A Lovely Bunch of Coconuts”
as he gazed at the pair of knockers that weren’t hanging on Marianne’s door.

“I take it you still like being breast fed?” Marianne asked the private eye.
“I do,” Albion nodded, “I’m like Jerry Seinfeld in that respect.”

So Marianne breast fed him.
Breasts that were loaded with toad’s venom and not milk.
Albion went into cardiac arrest and was rushed to an LA hospital.

“Beware the breasts of Marianne de Lilth!” Calpurnia’s ghost warned as she strolled the corridors of the hospital emergency ward.
Her warning came a little too late for Carson Cody Albion private eye.

-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday June 13th
2020.

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Renfield and The Ghosts of Uncle Ernie In Three Temporal Locations

May 15, 2020 at 10:57 pm (Fantasy, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, Humour, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

Renfield and The Ghosts of Uncle Ernie In Three Temporal Locations

“To be a pirate king, to be a pirate king,
it is, it is a glorious thing to be a pirate king,
To steal the lordly ring, to steal the lordly ring,
it is, it is a glorious thing to steal the lordly ring, 
To be able to shower and sing, to be able to shower and sing 
it is, it is a glorious thing to be able to shower and sing …”

Renfield fell asleep after singing his song in an attempt at a home musical operetta podcast after having butchered the lyrics of the Gilbert and Sullivan operetta The Pirates of Penzance.

He was awakened by an apparition identifying itself as The Ghost of Uncle Ernie Past.

“I’ve never heard of you,” Renfield blinked, “What happened to Christmas Past?”.

“It’s long past,” Uncle Ernie explained, “We’re now approaching the middle of May. I’m here to show you the past.”

“My past?” Renfield asked.

“No, mine,” Uncle Ernie grabbed Renfield’s hand in violation of social distancing protocols and took him back to Australia in the mid-1980s to a living room.

“What is this place?” Renfield asked.

“I have no idea,” Uncle Ernie answered, “but the TV commercial for my kids’ birthday party balloon sculpture business is about to come on.”

The commercial shows a group of kids dancing around Uncle Ernie who’s wearing a clown costume.

Kids (singing): 
Uncle Ernie we love you, 
To us, you are a star,
Uncle Ernie we love you 
and what you keep in your candy jar.

“And was your business a success?” Renfield inquired.

“Sadly,” Uncle Ernie had tears in his eyes, “I wound up in jail right after this first commercial aired. The Sydney police decided to investigate just what it was I had in that candy jar. And while I was behind bars, what I had in that candy jar was passed around to a night time sitting of the Australian Senate. The Hansard minutes of that particular Senate session are still marked Confidential and Top Secret to this day for some reason.”

Renfield woke up and found himself in a pub in downtown Sydney.

“I’m the ghost of Uncle Ernie Present,” Uncle Ernie smiled as he downed another beer.

“Australia in May 2020?” Renfield looked around, “But aren’t there any lockdown measures in place?”.

“Not in joints owned by the inscrutable Mr. Inn Lu,” an elderly Asian gentleman dressed like Confucius bowed to them, “The authorities leave me alone. Here are the lap dancers you ordered, Ernie. Ming Ling and Ding Dong.”

Ding Dong sat on Renfield’s lap, “The last time I sat on your lap, Uncle Ernie, you didn’t have much of a dong to ding.”

“Well I never,” Uncle Ernie protested.

“That’s probably the truest thing you’ve ever said in your life, Uncle Ernie,” Ming Ling giggled.

After an hour of ecstatic bliss, Renfield was awakened by the sound of Big Ben ding donging.

Which was strange since Big Ben was currently under repair.

“I am the Ghost of Uncle Ernie to come,” said Uncle Ernie.

“Oh, Uncle Ernie, you’re such a liar,” Ming Ling giggled, “you never come.”

Uncle Ernie’s face turned red as the apparition vanished into the night.

“I need to stop eating those Australian candies,” Renfield remarked as he slid under his computer desk and into oblivion.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday May 15th 2020

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Return To Field of Dreams

April 8, 2020 at 11:11 pm (Avatar Speaks, Entertainment, Fantasy, Film, Inspiration, Literature, Movies, News, Poetry) (, )

Return To Field of Dreams

Marcus Shimbiro had a dream
When as an 8-year-old boy 
he left his native Kenya
For the U.S.
He wanted to become a baseball player someday 
He did excel at sports and particularly at baseball 
In high school, he was hitting home runs 
The same way he downed ice cream cones
with a vengeance 

But then came that fateful day 
He fell off his neighbour’s roof 
While helping him paint it
And broke his arm and his leg 

His arm and leg eventually healed of course 
But he was not the same player ever again
He could no longer run
Or hit a home run.

Angry and bitter a few weeks before graduation
He borrowed a friend’s car and headed for Iowa
Why Iowa?
Because it was the home state of the Field of Dreams
That famous 1989 sports fantasy movie with Kevin Costner and James Earl Jones
About the Iowa corn farmer who plows part of his corn field 
To build a baseball field
A field on which Shoeless Joe Jackson 
And 7 other famous 1919 Chicago Black Sox players play

On that field in which Shoeless Joe and 7 others played
Was a player named Archibald “Moonlight” Graham
Who played one game for the New York Giants in 1905 
but never had a turn at bat
Corn farmer Ray Kinsella (Costner) 
and author/writer Terrence Mann (Jones) drive to Minnesota 
Where they learn that Graham was a physician who had died years earlier
During a late night walk, Ray finds himself transported back to 1972
Where he encounters the elderly Graham (Burt Lancaster) who says he left baseball for a satisfying medical career
During the drive back to Iowa,
Ray picks up a young hitchhiker who introduces himself as Archie Graham
and says he wants to be a baseball player 
Eventually, Graham gets the chance to play baseball with Shoeless Joe and other baseball greats in the Field of Dreams
But at a critical point in the game, Graham leaves the field of dreams 
To administer emergency medical aid 

Graham makes his choice 
To be a doctor after all.

And now Marcus Shimbiro torn with rage at having his dreams dashed 
Was trying to find this Field of Dreams of film-lore
To play baseball 
Or at least find out what he was to do with his life 

It was nighttime 
and as he drove by a corn field
He was shocked to see baseball players playing ball in the field 
He pulled in
And sat with the other spectators 
And watched the greats of baseball play the game 
Shoeless Joe Jackson, Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Mickey Mantle, Joe DiMaggio and many others

He was shocked to discover Dr. Archibald Graham sitting next to him 
offering him a hot dog and a coke
“Too bad about your fall, Marcus,” Graham remarked as he ate his own hot dog.
“It is,” Marcus frowned, “it’s not as if I could be a doctor like you not having baseball to fall back on.”
“Who says you can’t be a doctor?” Graham looked at him.
“I don’t have the marks or the aptitude for it,” Marcus answered.
“But you are good at observation and analysis and above all, perseverance, you may not get flying colours right away but with your observation and analysis and perseverance, you might spot something others have missed and that might make all the difference in the world someday,” Dr. Graham noted, “Ever hear the fable of the tortoise and the hare? The tortoise won the race in the end.”
“But that’s just a fable and a fairy tale,” Marcus pointed out, “That doesn’t happen in the real world. Most of the time, it’s the hare that wins and not the tortoise.”
“Most of the time that’s true, Marcus,” Graham agreed, “But often it’s at the most critical junctions in the world and in history that the tortoise wins the race. And at such times, the hare is usually not a foe but a friend. And it usually turns out to be one race where the hare was happy to see the tortoise win.”

Marcus looked at Graham.

He wasn’t quite sure what Graham meant by those words but somehow deep down inside himself, he felt they were important.

“So, do you think I should go into medicine?” Marcus asked.
“I do, Marcus, I do,” the elderly doctor patted him on the shoulder.

And seconds later, Dr. Graham, the players, the spectators and the baseball field were gone.

And all that was left…

… Was an empty corn field.

Marcus Shimbiro went into science and into medicine.
He didn’t always get the best marks.
But he studied hard and learned from his mistakes.
And developed a profound sense of analysis and insight.
He didn’t think he was good enough to treat patients but he went into research.
Using his memory and his insight and analysis in that line of work.

And then one day in the year 2020, 
analyzing data and keeping track of things he and his numerous colleagues all over the world were doing,
Dr. Marcus Shimbiro discovered…

…. the vaccine for the Covid-19 Coronavirus.

We can all dream, can’t we?

And hope… is the knowledge that sometimes dreams can become reality.

-A narrative poem written by Christopher
Wednesday April 8th 2020.

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Night of The Pink Moon Super Moon

April 7, 2020 at 10:45 pm (Arts, Entertainment, Fantasy, love, Mythology, Poetry, Romance) (, , , , )

Night of The Pink Moon Super Moon

Never an easy time to say good bye
As a pink toned rose moon rose in the sky
Against the rocks the surging tide rose high

Lovely scent of palms and South Sea air
And at the door stood a lady fair
Magical pink mist rose in distant cloud 
In this paradise far from the madd’ing crowd

Sometimes worlds meet where they embrace and not collide 
For life is more than a merry go ride
Heart to heart, heart to heart 
Must kindred souls do part?

She Mahina the Hawaiian and Polynesian goddess of the moon
He Dracul of the earth’s mournful tune 
Now on this night she must return home
Else she fade away like the ocean foam

Star crossed lovers under a rose hue sky
Where South Sea waves splash amidst mermaid cry
She turned around with last longing look 
And to the heavens vanished leaving one night hunter forsook 

-A poem and vampire novel chapter 
written by Christopher
Tuesday April 7th
2020.

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Reblog of The Death of The March Hare: A Poem

March 31, 2020 at 10:00 pm (Fantasy, Literature, Mystery/horror, Mythology, Poetry) (, , , , , )

A narrative poem I wrote 3 years ago today:

Dracul Van Helsing

Persephone

On her throne, Persephone the Queen of the Underworld did decree
that the March Hare had brought joy to far too many
and it was time that this valiant hare should die
and should be now before March time did fly

So on this last day of March 2017
as the Hare drank tea with a Heartly Queen
the Messenger of Death did drop Polonium-210
into the hare’s teacup at the stroke of Big Ben

The hare raised the tea to his lips
as Mad Hatter recalled his latest trips
up through and outside the Rabbit hole
when the poor hare turned as black as coal

“Remember to pay the phone bill” were the Hare’s last words before he died
as into the frying pan went the Heartly queen’s kipper being fried
The March Hare fell over quite dead
and the Heartly queen turned bright red
“I did not say…

View original post 57 more words

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Miranda Singh and The Wonderous Pair of Goldfish

March 30, 2020 at 10:59 pm (Fantasy, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, love, Mythology, News, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

Miranda Singh and The Wonderous Pair of Goldfish

“And in other news, Pope Francis has tested negative for the Coronavirus but remains positive for Communism… ” 

Renfield switched over from Britain’s Sky News to BBC News where a friend of his was delivering the news:

“And the 600 year old Miraculous Crucifix of Christ that Pope Francis brought out to deliver his Urbi et Orbi message last Friday has suffered intense water damage as a result of the rainfall that occurred while the Pope gave his speech castigating the world for not following his globalist Neo-Marxist Neo-Bolshevik agenda and as a result the God of Surprises (the god worshipped by Francis) had sent this pandemic upon the world. Pope Francis gave this speech to the empty Saint Peter’s Square while standing comfortably under a large canopy in the pouring rain with his back turned against the Miraculous Crucifix of Christ that became drenched in the pouring rain being a great distance behind the canopy and the ancient unique statue has suffered intense water damage as a result…”

Renfield switched over to ITV News:

“Former British Prime Minister Gordon Brown has called for a One World Government in the wake of the Coronavirus crisis.
Minutes after he made the statement, a cream pie was thrown in his face by an invisible force.
Although a London bobby who had been drinking Harvey Wallbangers on the job says he saw a 6 foot 8 tall bunny rabbit with big pink floppety ears do it.”

. . .

The storm clouds descend
A beast has crawled from Egypt’s sphinx 
towards Bethlehem to be born
A virus fancying itself as wise
has arisen from the East 
and spread its tentacles all over the world 
Offering gifts of pain, suffering and death
Instead of gold, frankincense and myrrh 
in adoration of the new Messiah.

. . .

In the streams of a large conservatory greenhouse in London, Set Enterprises secret agent Miranda Singh saw two multicoloured goldfish that she had never seen in the stream before swim to escape a shark she had never seen in that stream before.

The goldfish leapt above a huge rock towards another stream.

The shark likewise leapt and landed on the rock hitting its head knocking itself out.

The shark then metamorphosed into the form of the Greek god Ares.

Ares still lay there unconscious.

The two goldfish then shapeshifted into human form.

One of them Miranda recognized as being Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing.

And the other she recognized as being Mahina the Hawaiian and Polynesian Goddess of the Moon.

They left the conservatory.

Miranda looked down at the stream and thought, “Oh brave new world that has such people in it.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday March 30th
2020.

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The Storyteller: Weaving Cloth and Spinning A Tale

March 19, 2020 at 10:17 pm (Fantasy, Literature, magic, Poetry, Romance) ()

The Storyteller: Weaving Cloth and Spinning A Tale 

Outside the world spins on its axis
As she spins cloth in actual praxis
In her mind she spins tales 
like mermaid meeting whales 

Fairies and butterflies sit on shelves
While her goldfish bowl swims with elves
Harlequin dolls on floors watch the cloth being weaved
As magic falls seamlessly out of her sleeve 

For her mind is full of tales never told
of magical creatures and maidens bold
In a land she imagines where love ne’er grows old 
Where knights shine and evil giants fold

Her old phonograph plays songs of yesteryear
Where sometimes those lyric memories can bring forth a tear 
Her window on the world becomes a magic mirror 
Where dark things are far but hope is nearer 
Outside ships may burn and conquering dirigibles fly
While she entertains her fairy 
audience with sweet lullaby 

Sometimes in dark times, one has to stay home
But for a mind such as hers, she has a whole world to roam

-A poem written by Christopher
Thursday March 19th 2020

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Justin Trudeau Encounters A Mesoamerican Deity In His Pot Smoking Antique Mirror

March 12, 2020 at 10:54 pm (Fantasy, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Mythology, News, Politics, Sorcery, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

Justin Trudeau Encounters A Mesoamerican Deity In His Pot Smoking Antique Mirror

Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau had cancelled a First Ministers’ emergency meeting with provincial premiers, territorial leaders and indigenous leaders to discuss the Coronavirus because he himself may have come down with the Coronavirus.

His wife Sophie Gregoire Trudeau had returned from a speaking engagement in London, England last night and had not been feeling well.

She self isolated while awaiting results from a test for Coronavirus.

Justin decided it might be a good example to self-isolate as well.

So he had spent the day re-enacting the Battle of Trafalgar with an armada of rubber ducks in his bathtub.

His wife Sophie had phoned him from the room next door an hour ago and said she had tested positive for the Coronavirus.

“Shit,” Justin thought to himself.

Now he might have to self-isolate a lot longer than he intended.

He walked out to the greenhouse to visit his marijuana inhaling and exhaling antique mirror named Magical Mystery Tour.

He was surprised to see the mirror was reflecting both himself and the greenhouse plants around the mirror instead of the mysterious rare and used book store at the corner of a foreboding dark alley and desolate fog filled street in London, England the way it usually did.

Since he could see his own reflection in the mirror tonight, he decided to put on some blackface since he always felt better wearing blackface for some reason.

A psychiatrist once told him that this feeling was probably due to “penis envy”.

Justin thought that was strange since he thought it was only some women who were prone to penis envy.

The Canadian Prime Minister noticed that the gardener had left the television on just above the coconut tree in the greenhouse.

It showed an old Tarzan movie whereby Tarzan was tied to a tree and an African tribal chief was holding up a 9 inch ruler and pointing at Tarzan and shaking his head and laughing.

“I wonder what message the universe will try to tell me tonight,” Justin thought as he reached for his box of black shoe polish that was hidden underneath the hyacinth plant.

Justin went over and looked at himself in the mirror and started putting the black shoe polish all over his face.

“I now look like Harry Belafonte,” the former drama teacher and amateur thespian grinned at himself in the mirror.

Soon his reflection vanished into the blackness of night emerging from the mirror.

An image of what looked to be a sinister Mesoamerican deity appeared in the mirror as huge whiffs of marijuana smoke came out of the wooden sides of the mirror.

The head of the deity was a sinister looking bluish green skull with a black stripe and a yellow stripe painted across his face.

His right foot was an obsidian mirror.

Although occasionally his right foot would metamorphose into a snake.

When this happened, the obsidian mirror would show up on the deity’s chest instead and sometimes smoke would emanate from the mirror.

Justin entered the antique late Victorian/early Edwardian mirror named Magical Mystery Tour and leaned his painted blackface down to inhale the pot smoke emanating from the obsidian mirror on the deity’s chest.

In the background behind the Mesoamerican deity, the Great Bear constellation shone brightly in the night sky.

In the Great Bear constellation directly behind the deity danced a spotted skin jaguar.

The jaguar sang his own paraphrased version of an old Harry Belafonte song,

“Night-o, night-o, night time come and you oughta go home…”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday March 12th
2020.

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Carnevale In Venice: Masque of The Dread Death

February 25, 2020 at 11:43 pm (Fantasy, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Literature, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Mythology, News, Poetry, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

Carnevale In Venice: Masque of The Dread Death

Coronavirus spreads 
like jam on bread 
China, Iran, South Korea,
Northern Italy
Wide clusters of cases

Authorities decree 
no carnevale masque balls
In Venice 
The night before Ash Wednesday 
Thus Lent will arrive early for many

Mardi Gras in New Orleans
Parades and music 
Party goers dance 
Voodoo spells 
Driven away by sounds of jazz
Many dollars are spent on the French Quarter

In Canada, Shrove Tuesday
aka National Pancake Day
Justin Trudeau with 
post-Magical Mystery Tour pot smoke munchies 
eats two dozen pancakes 
covered in patriotic maple syrup 
Goes to give speech on how to end child hunger 
Ends up with a loss for words

But in Venice 
no joy on the canal
Coronavirus has come out

But the children of the night 
are natural rebels
Like wolves outside a Transylvanian nobleman’s castle 
What music they make

They put on masks
Ladies in lovely Renaissance style evening gowns
Men wearing white wigs 
And wearing Age of Louis XIV attire 
likewise mask themselves 

Rent gondolas
And sail canals of Venice 
In defiance of authorities
Dance on the streets

One son of Night 
wearing a New York Knicks
t-shirt walks around singing,
“I am what I am”
On his face he wears the Greek mask of Comedy
At the back of his head the Greek mask of Tragedy 

He goes up to people with his happy smiling laughing face
He touches them gently
They fall to ground dead
He walks away 
And you can see the sad crying unhappy face 

He goes into an elegant Venetian hotel 
And up to a room
Where he opens the door

And there is the Greek goddess Hera
The Queen of Olympus

Hera speaks,
Thanatos, son of Nyx,
You have turned a carnevale cruise 
into Charon’s ferry ride across the Styx.

-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday February 25th
2020.

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Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made Of

January 13, 2020 at 11:55 pm (Fantasy, Folklore, Poetry, Romance, Short Story) (, , , )

Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made Of

Walking through the large prairie museum
There was an authentic old steam train 
He went and climbed aboard 
And sat in one of the carriages 
Imagining he was travelling somewhere

Imagine his shock when the engine smoked,
The bell rang
And the conductor cried “All aboard”
And the train started moving

Not out of the museum 
On to the surrounding prairie
Instead the train travelled through the Swiss Alps
The man walked through the train 
And standing on the platform on one of the carriages 
was a beautiful dark haired woman 
Wearing a warrior’s breasted arm plate 
And a pleated black skirt 
And playing a cello 

The woman jumped off the train 
And the man was pushed 
And the man found himself in a dark wintry forest with falling snow 
And there was the same woman wearing a long flowing white dress
And blowing snow flowed through her long waving hair 
And she was still playing the cello

Soon the man found himself in an Italian Renaissance palace drawing room 
And on a lounge chair
(The same sort of chair on which Napoleon Bonaparte’s sister Pauline Borghese in the sculpture Venus Victrix by Antonio Canova had posed nude)
sat the same long haired woman
Now wearing a long elegant flowing red evening dress gown 
And still playing the cello
Behind her was a statue of the Greek goddess Aphrodite appearing to the right of the lounge chair
And appearing to the left 
was a dresser table
On which stood a statue of Saint Michael the Archangel triumphing over the Devil
And to the right of that statue 
also on the dresser was a human skull

The man soon found himself on a sunny sandy beach
And the same woman approached him
Now she was wearing a beautiful elegant yellow dress on which on the front was emblazoned a beautiful gorgeous looking fiery red Phoenix
The woman did not have her cello with her 
She approached the man
And then the Phoenix came alive 
And flew up from the front of her dress
And flew into the sky 
And thence into the distant horizon
Then the cello appeared in her hands 
And she once again began playing

Now the man found himself under water 
In a underwater palace
And there was the woman
in a white dress swimming 

But she had no cello with her

Then the man found himself in the arm chair of the fireplace room
In the house in which he lived

Shakespeare had once said, We are such stuff as dreams are made of 
Recalling that, the man mused that at least he was made of unique and unusual stuff.

-A poem and short story 
written by Christopher
Monday January 13th
2020.

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