What Is Causing The Paris Riots: A Free Verse Poem As Explanation
Several weeks ago, the Cyborg Octopus Kraken
Who called himself Emperor Napoleon VI
Had been dining with his wife Medusa
(The ex-Gorgon famed for getting people stoned
In the glory days of classical and ancient Greece)
In a Parisienne cafe
When Medusa suddenly found Vincent Van Gogh’s ear
In her house salad
so she sent it back.
“I hate to do this to you, Banksy,”
The salad prep chef said to
The famous graffiti street artist
As he cut his ear off with a carving knife
Banksy had thought of becoming a musician
As well as an artist
but now he had no ear for music.
“Much better,” Medusa said
As she bit into Banksy’s ear.
“You’re becoming somewhat cannibalistic in your old age,”
The Kraken remarked as he bit into the evening dinner special
which was roast octopus.
“How old do you think I am?”
asked Medusa
who used Oil of Olay
She looked very young indeed.
Medusa then bit into the fried snake
As the hairs on her head stood on end.
“Charmed I’m sure,” Sir Anthony Hopkins tipped his hat
And bowed to the couple
as he exited
(He had eaten the roast lamb souvlaki that evening)
He was in Paris doing a one night special performance
at Le Phantome Masquerade
Musique de Le Soir
Faberge Garnier Christian Dior Coco Chanel Opera House –
a musical version of
The Silence of The Lambs.
Jodie Foster emerged from the restaurant closet
with a woman tennis player and a woman golf player
and followed the knighted Welsh actor
to the theatre
as director Martin Scorsese
tried to hail a taxi driver
and Beelzebub the lord of the flies
plotted the last temptation of Christ.
“You don’t seem to be enjoying your roast octopus this evening,”
The Norse trickster god Loki
(who looked and talked a lot like actor Jack Nicholson)
remarked
as he fed Donald Trump’s toupee
(which he had swiped from the Oval Office of the White House)
to the restaurant Maitre’ D’s pet red spider monkey.
“I’d like to be Emperor of France,”
The Kraken calling himself Napoleon VI
wiped a tear from his eye,
“but I can’t while Emmanuel Macron is President.”
“Hm, I think I can do something about that,”
Loki remarked as Ricky Martin’s dinner date for the evening
accidentally peed all over Loki’s Casablanca Humphrey Bogart looking white dinner jacket
turning it a very vibrant yellow colour.
“And I think I’ve got an idea,”
Loki remarked
as he looked down at his now yellow coloured jacket
and just received a text message on his smart phone
from his accountant
on what would be the heating cost
of his Paris apartment
next year.
“And that dear children,”
The inebriated looking Santa Claus
took off his wired rimmed glasses
and wiped them
at the Ayn Rand Daycare Centre
where he was speaking,
“is how the origins of the Paris riots
and fires came to pass.”
-A comedy horror poem
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday December 7th
2018.
Rita Hayworth won’t be coming down Emmanuel Macron’s chimney tonight.
Nimrod Sees A Psychiatrist: Recalling Life With Semiramis
The famous Welsh psychiatrist Dr. Morgana Jones was able to see a new patient at her London clinic.
She did have an appointment with one of her regular patients the Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing to help treat his problem of sex addiction but she received a phone call from him cancelling at the last minute because he had spent the past 24 hours making out with the Russian vampiress Svetlana Kireeva of the FSB and he would likely be spending the next 24 hours doing the same.
She did receive a phone call from somebody claiming to be a British Member of Parliament who said he was feeling lonely and depressed because he was sitting alone in his hot tub and had nobody to blow bubbles and play his musical instrument with.
Dr. Jones told him to buy himself a Japanese sex robot and slammed the phone down.
The recepient on the other end called out, “Athelstan, can you find me the number of a sci-fi writer called George Finneganburg in the U.S.? I think he knows where I can buy a good Japanese female sex robot.”
As the Member of Parliament went about blissfully planning his own death by electrocution in a hot tub by hoping to get a Japanese female sex robot prone to blowing her fuse and short circuiting, Dr. Jones’ receptionist brought in a new patient.
He was a little green frog who called himself Nimrod and he hopped out from the top of a low-cut dress worn by the ancient Babylonian vampiress Lilith.
“You’ll be okay while I go do my Christmas shopping for myself at Harrods?” Lilith asked.
Nimrod ribbited in the affirmative and Lilith was out the door like a bat out of Hell to go shopping at Harrods.
“Are you the Nimrod mentioned in the Bible?” Dr. Morgana Jones asked her new patient as he lay back on the couch and hugged a Sesame Street Miss Piggy doll.
“I am,” Nimrod ribbitted in the affirmative, “I used to be a mighty hunter before the Lord although it really should be properly translated against the Lord. But I like quoting the King James Version myself. It has such beautiful English.”
“How did you become a little green frog?” Dr. Jones queried as the “mighty hunter before the Lord” used his extra long tongue to catch and swallow a fly.
“It was the result of a love potion gone horribly wrong,” Nimrod hiccoughed after swallowing the lord of the flies.
“I don’t remember reading about that in the Biblical account,” remarked Dr. Jones who was raised in a Methodist home in Wales.
“It didn’t happen in Biblical times. It happened after I croaked the first time in Biblical times,” Nimrod croaked in Miss Piggy’s ear.
“Perhaps you better explain,” Dr. Jones crossed her legs which was followed by murmuring from the office’s lobster tank.
“Well, several centuries after I died in Biblical times,” Nimrod licked his lips, “I was brought back from the dead by ET grays who were visiting Earth on an expedition. Later I was killed again when the UFO they were flying crashed near Tuktoyaktuk in the Canadian Arctic. This time I was brought back to life by DARPA while the ET gray bodies were sent to Area 51 and became hopelessly lost like all ET gray bodies at Area 51 are prone to do. The guy in charge of the Freezer section at Area 51- some old geezer who has held the job since Roswell in 1947 and really should have retired years ago has just been named director of Canada Post’s Marijuana Parcel Delivery Program by Justin Trudeau after the latter was visited by Sherrielock Holmes as part of some act of vengeance by her friend Dracul Van Helsing against the country’s marijuana users.”
“So what would you say was the primary cause of your mental trauma that brings you here today?” Dr. Jones uncrossed her legs once again causing murmurs to come from the office’s lobster tank.
“That does date back to Biblical times,” Nimrod admitted.
“Was it perhaps building the Tower of Babel that did it?” Dr. Jones smoothed her pantyhose causing the office’s lobster tank to shake.
“I wasn’t the one who built the Tower of Babel,” Nimrod blubbered into his handkerchief.
“You weren’t?” Dr. Jones was astounded.
“The Bible never says I built the Tower of Babel,” Nimrod blew his nose, “That was later expositors who said that. In fact it was my wife Semiramis who built the tower of Babel after she murdered me.”
Nimrod started to sob hysterically.
“Murdered you?” Dr. Jones was astounded.
“With an ice pick,” Nimrod bawled, “with the result that I never got the chance to enjoy my last cold beer in life. Then the bitch had the nerve to bury me face downwards so I could see where I was going.”
Nimrod was silent.
Then he admitted, “Still I suppose not seeing all those flames at first might have come as the greater surprise.”
“I can see why you’ve been traumatised,” Dr. Jones smoothed her skirt traumatizing the lobster in the tank.
“Yes, she murdered me, buried me face downwards so I could see where I was going and then had the nerve to tell the people of Babel that I had ascended into the heavens as a sun god,” Nimrod wept, “The only thing I got from the sun was sun burn. Then 18 months after I died, she gave birth to Tammuz claiming that it was a virgin birth.”
“It wasn’t?” Dr. Jones arched an eyebrow.
“No, the woman was a nymphomaniac,” Nimrod seethed, “she slept with every single member of the Palace Guard and gave them all sexually transmitted diseases.”
Nimrod looked at Dr. Jones with a pained expression on his face, “Do you know how hard it was to find a good palace guard in those days? I tell you not many were applying for the job or returning to it once word of the pox of Semiramis spread like wildfire among unionized members of Palace Guard guilds everywhere across the known world at the time.”
“Was Semiramis good in bed?” Dr. Jones asked as the lobster in the tank edged closer to the glass to hear the answer.
“I don’t know,” Nimrod shrugged.
Dr. Jones looked at the frog in shock.
“I remember when my very good friend Gilgamash Potatocus the commander of my Palace Guard lay dying,” Nimrod had tears in his eyes, “he said to me, “Your majesty, I have a confession to make to you before I die. I slept with your wife.” I looked at him and said, “With Semiramis?.” He nodded, “Yes.” And I said to him thoughtfully, “Gosh. Well, then you’re one up on me.” Then he expired. Just like the time on Lilith’s parking metre next to her Porsche as I see the policewoman writing her a ticket and putting it on the dashboard.”
The little green frog was standing at the window.
“Gilgamash Potatocus?” Dr. Jones repeated the name.
“Yes, everybody in Ancient Studies these days with the exception of the Dragon Sister prof Sydney Fox and her teaching assistant Nigel Bailey are always shooting their mouths off about how great The Epic of Gilgamesh is,” Nimrod seethed, “But the Epic of Gilgamash Potatocus is even greater. About how Gilgamash Potatocus visited Ireland where he was skinned alive and then mashed and then almost eaten by Irish cannibals before he managed to escape.”
Dr. Jones dropped her pen and bent right over to pick it up.
The lobster tank exploded.
“What’s up with that lobster?” Dr. Jones looked at the water and mess all over the floor, “I was told when I bought Chaucer that he was the younger brother of one of Set Enterprises’ star employees.”
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday November 27th
2018.
Michelangelo Names The Winners of The 2018 U.S. Midterms
“It was 50 years ago today that Richard M. Nixon was elected President of the United States,” Amadeus Emanon read aloud from the This Day In History column.
“One thing I always liked about Nixon,” Renfield remarked as he fed his goldfish called Checkers that a voter had given him, “is his insightful analysis in his statement, “That whole Bohemian Grove thing is the faggiest god damned thing you can imagine. I never shake hands with anybody who comes from San Francisco anymore.” And as a result of Nixon’s advice, I’ve never ever shaken hands with anybody who comes from San Francisco.”
“Well, that would certainly prevent you from picking up any Nancy Pelosi girl fleas,” Amadeus noted.
“Or dog fleas either,” Renfield rubbed the fur of the Set household’s pet cat Nefertiti Galore.
“Wasn’t the Bohemian Grove the place where Henry Kissinger went running around nude in the woods?” Amadeus asked.
“Yes and a bunch of California redwood trees have been treated for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder ever since,” Renfield remarked as he received a nude photo text message from Vietnamese vampiress Ho Babylon Minh that had just the opposite effect that Kissinger had on the trees.
As both the goldfish Checkers and the cat Nefertiti Galore went into their respective states of shock upon seeing Renfield’s bulging erection, Amadeus remarked, “I see the psychic lobster Michelangelo has named the winners of tomorrow’s U.S. midterm elections.”
Amadeus had just received a text message from Dr. Cadbury Rocher down at the Set Enterprises lab.
“And who will the winners be?” asked Renfield who being genetically created in a lab had no mother to warn him about what physical activities might cause blindness.
Amadeus putting on a pair of welder’s dark glasses replied, “It was rather strange. Michelangelo in rather vague Delphi oracle like terms said “Both Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders will come out the winners.”
“Maybe what that means,” Renfield ejaculated both wisdom and a more physical substance, “is that the Republicans will maintain control of the House or the Senate or both while of those Democrats who are elected, a great many of them will support Bernie Sanders for the Democratic Presidential Nomination in 2020.”
“You might have something there,” Amadeus admitted.
“What I need right now,” Renfield stumbled around, “is the phone number for the nearest optometrist. I feel the need to book an appointment.”
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday November 5th
2018.
The ancient Babylonian vampiress Lilith in a poster warning about the hazards of snow blindness.
Michelangelo’s Vision of 2018 U.S. Midterm Elections
British MP Renfield R. Renfield was back in the U.K. again after a brief one day Dia de Los Muertos visit to Mexico City where he videotaped the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec ripping out the live still beating heart of a horny sexually predatory and sexually harassing Google exec (one of many who had recently inspired a spate of Google employee strikes across the world).
Renfield then posted the video on YouTube, Facebook, Instagram and Twitter where it went viral across the Net.
The video was the one thing Renfield did that met with the approval of the #MeTooMovement.
After watching the video, the unlamented former Hollywood producer Harvey Weinstein woke up screaming in the night about having a dream of open heart surgery being performed on him without the use of anesthetic.
Another consequence was that Texas cowboys and gunslingers stopped falling in love with Mexican girls in cantinas out in the West Texas town of El Paso much to singer Marty Robbins’ displeasure.
After the burning of the heart was done in front of the Aztec feathered serpent god Quetzalcoatl (who because of his advanced age was starting to prefer his meat cooked well done rather than raw or rare these days), the Aztec deity (who was worshipped as Kukulkan by the Mayans) after eating the heart proceeded to sit down on a sofa with a bottle of tequila (containing inside it a worm in front of a biodegradable cardboard tombstone that had for an epitaph POE’S THE CONQUEROR WORM Conquered) in front of a television set and watched Orson Welles’ last film The Other Side of The Wind on Netflix.
Outside his Mexico City penthouse apartment, the ancient Babylonian vampiress Lilith performed one huge storm of a whirlwind as the vampire Lev Tomi (who in his mortal life had been Leon Trotsky) the head of the UN Secretariat On The Environment and Climate Change gave a speech on climate change in the city.
Meanwhile back in Qonzilqointec’s penthouse suite on the other side of the street, the Aztec vampiress made out with Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing engaging in BDSM foreplay and mystical magic tantric sex afterwards.
Renfield flew back to Britain from Mexico listening to the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper and Magical Mystery Tour albums on his airplane headphones while eating a nice dinner of curried lamb and curried goats’ legs on Manitoba wild rice.
Back at the CERN Large Hadron Collidor tunnel in Switzerland, the Hindu destroyer and transformer god Shiva was trying to make a curried dinner out of hubris ridden CERN scientists who had just uncovered a “ghost particle” that was about to upset the equilibrium balance of the entire cosmos.
A result of all this was that scientist Stephen Hawking was turning over on his barbeque spit in Tartarus and very much regretting the fact that he had written THERE IS NO GOD in his last book.
His mother’s favourite expression “Famous Last Words” never rang so true as now.
As soon as Renfield R. Renfield walked through the front door of the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set’s colossal London mansion, his friend Amadeus Emanon informed him of a vision that Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster had had in his lobster tank at Set Enterprises laboratories.
“Michelangelo foresees widespread violence, shootings and stabbings at polling stations across America on U.S. mid-term election day,” Amadeus stated.
“I’m not surprised,” Renfield admitted, “I imagine in future U.S. elections, the UN will have to bring in observers from the Afghan Taliban and militant sectarian groups in Iraq to make sure that future American elections are conducted in a less violent and more peaceful manner.”
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday November 3rd
2018.
Orson Welles’ Original Fake News Broadcast 80 Years Ago Today
80 years ago today, the great Orson Welles and the Mercury Theatre On The Air presented a radio play adaptation of H.G. Welles’ 1897 science-fiction novel The War of The Worlds.
The play was presented by Welles as a series of realistic sounding news bulletins interrupting a program of orchestral dance music on the CBS Radio Network from New York City.
The program was held on Sunday October October 30th 1938 (the evening before Halloween) and a few people took it seriously.
It was one Hell of a Halloween prank on Welles’ part.
If Donald Trump had been around at the time, he would have called it “fake news” and it would have been one of the few times in history that Trump was actually right about something.
Gene Tierney to Orson Welles, “I don’t know, Orson. It sounds to me like a very naughty broadcast and you should be spanked soundly on the bare bottom for going ahead with it.”
Orson: Well, Miss Tierney, if you’re the one doing the spanking, I shall not mind.
Gene Tierney (listening in on the radio on October 30th 1938):
Oh, Orson, Orson, I’m going to have to spank you after all.
Laura (talking to a future suspect in her future murder): And where were you on the night of the Orson Welles broadcast?
Future Suspect (in Laura’s future murder): I was dropping a living woman into a vat of acid in the basement of a wax museum to turn her into a wax figurine of Queen Marie Antoinette. And where were you, my dear?
Laura: I was getting my portrait painted. Who knows if I’m ever murdered, some future police detective might look at my painting and fall in love with me.
Future Suspect (in Laura’s future murder): How charmingly macabre, my dear. You should run for Congress in the year 2018.
I’m a witch and I ain’t afraid of no Martian. And I say, spankings for all.
Alfred Hitchcock (making himself some pumpkin pie): I’ll second that.
Well, what are you waiting for? Over my knee, Alfred.
With Alfred taking a paddling at Veronica Lake, who will eat my pumpkin pie?
I shall swoop down with my pussy and eat your pie.
I the cyborg ripper, creation of the Martian invaders of New Jersey, shall seek to kill all AI sex robots created in the year 2018. Let George Finneganburg beware. Tell Akira I’m coming.
Linda Darnell (listening in on the radio in 1938 to a radio broadcast from the future year 2018): How like Orson or at least his theatrical apostolic successor Christopher Dracul Van Helsing to having the cyborg ripper killer robot destroyed after tripping over the tail of a drunken otter named Jefferey who drank too many bottles of Otterbury Green Minnow Beer while reciting the Otterbury Tales. DARPA’S Nibiruan otter mascot once again saves the world from Martian invaders and their cyborg ripper killer robots of future AI sex robots like the Amazing Akira.
The Amazing Akira: She would have kicked the cyborg ripper killer robot’s ass if God in His mercy had not allowed the Martian invader of New Jersey created cyborg ripper killer robot Jack Raven (who murdered someone’s lost love Lenore shouting “Nevermore!” and then descecrated a statue of Pallas Athena) to destroy himself by tripping over the tail of the passed out drunken otter Jefferey…
… Orson Welles’ radio broadcast narration ended with the above words.
-A Halloween montage
written by Christopher
Tuesday October 30th
2018.
Jack O’ Hare Meets The Mermaid of The Red Deer: A Poem
A huge silvery white moon rose in majestic glory
above the sky, above the clouds and above the canyon
its luminous giant white disc
causing dazzling lights
and mysterious shadows
to fall on top of the skyclad Badlands cutbank hills
that formed like magic mountains
in the canyon of the Dry Island Buffalo Jump
through which the magical enchanted Red Deer River flowed
in this majestic spot
near the town of Huxley, Alberta
The lantern in the sky
acted like a theatrical magic lantern
from years gone by
in its dazzling array of
flickering lights
and
shapeshifting shadows
that sparkled and danced
on the Badlands hills
like fairies and gnomes
engaged in a tug of war
to see which magical creatures would come out
on top.
On this enchanted evening
five days before Halloween
when pure magic was in the air
on riverbank rocks sat
the noble Jack O’ Hare.
A wild hare jack rabbit
and explorer of Canada’s west
He’d been there, done that
never settled for 2nd best
“Greetings, Jack,” the mermaid of the Red Deer
raised her head above the glistening moonlit waters.
“Greetings, fair mermaid,” Jack raised his bunny ears
in greeting.
“All is well?” The mermaid asked.
“All is well,” Jack answered,
“and all will be well.”
“Glad to hear it,” the mermaid smiled
as starlight danced in her eyes.
The mermaid disappeared under the waves of the river
swimming south to Drumheller
the hub of the Red Deer River Badlands
and birthplace of Jack’s friend.
The mermaid swam to impart
the blessings of this night down there
And birds sang gently in the trees,
All is well, all will be well.
And Jack hopped up the river bank
and continued his trek under
the midnight moonlit sky
as the birds continued to sing
their cheerful lullaby.
-A Jack O’Hare poem
written by Christopher
Friday October 26th
2018.
Phantom of The Opera: A Poem As Sung and Recorded By Amadeus Emanon
Phantom of The Opera: A Poem
Sung and Recorded By Amadeus Emanon
Amadeus Emanon was at London music promoter Heathcliff Dionysus Campbell’s Wuthering Heights and Glencoe Hospitality Recording Studios (owned by Heathcliff’s company Aulos Music and Recording Ltd.) to record his first album Erik’s Lament: The Agony and Ecstasy of A Phantom In The Night.
Amadeus Emanon sang this song:
Phantom of The Opera: A Lament
Oh Phantom, you are the lonely one
You loved Christine who was daylight
to your realms of darkness
She let the sunlight shine in your heart
You taught her to sing
But she taught you to love
And hers by far was the greater gift
There in your lair beneath the Opera deep
Where you lay many an hour to lie there and weep
And let the hate consume your heart like heat
Burned and singed was it making your scar look neat
For your look you thought no one could love
Depriving you of joy on earth and in heaven above
But Christine looked and she saw
but you turned away and you let her go
For in the mirror you saw just the scar
But in her eyes, she saw your very soul
But you did not see and you did not know
And your love departed by the river’s flow
Oh what music you could have made
But your heart you buried in hate’s grave
For Christine wanted to be your love not your slave
Now she’s left you and gone away
While you pine all night and long for day
The day you once had but chased away
leaving you with childhood toys you used to play
And now your soul then your music will decay.
(-A poem written by Christopher
Friday September 7th 2018)
Inspired by the character of Erik as he is portrayed in Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical The Phantom of The Opera.
Amadeus Emanon as he appears on the cover of his album (making it look like he was posing with his violin in an old 19th Century style photograph)
Hitler’s Ghost Views Paris and The Eiffel Tower As Amadeus and Angelique Make Out
Hitler’s Ghost Views Paris and The Eiffel Tower As Amadeus and Angelique Make Out
Amadeus Emanon and his girlfriend the New Orleans vampiress Angelique Dumont were spending a romantic getaway in Paris France 🇫🇷.
The vampiress had stocked up on Dr. Cadbury Rocher’s special sunblock which prevented vampiresses from being fried to a crisp in the daylight sun.
They boated along the Seine River and lunched in elegant Parisienne street cafes as artists painted their portraits.
They watched someone wearing a Donald Trump mask dive into the river and announce to the world, “It’s official. I’m in Seine.”
They visited Notre Dame Cathedral and kissed under one of the gargoyles.
Not since the Hunchback of Notre Dame had lit up the night with Esmeralda the gypsy had the gargoyle seen such action.
Amadeus and Angelique then went to a spot with a great view of the Eiffel Tower and made out there.
Moments before, Amadeus had received a text message from his friend the British MP Renfield R. Renfield pointing out that today was the 79th Anniversary of the signing of the Nazi-Soviet Pact.
Renfield said he had just posted a message on the timeline of Vladimir Putin’s Facebook page to that effect and got a bunch of Russian 🇷🇺 expletives hurled at him in return.
And speaking of Nazis, Hitler’s Ghost had temporarily left the body of the grey wolf he was possessing and was walking in astral spirit form through the streets of Paris recounting memories of his glorious triumphal trip to Paris on June 28th 1940 after he had conquered the French nation.
He stood alongside Amadeus and Angelique as they looked at their tourist maps (fearing that Trump’s NSA would monitor the GPS on their smart phones) and stood looking out at the city before he then turned and gazed at the Eiffel Tower.
He then looked at Amadeus and Angelique who had dropped their tourist maps and were now kissing.
“Oh,” Der Fuhrer mused aloud to himself, “to be alive and young and in Paris.”
Coincidentally at that very same moment, Donald Trump was saying the exact same thing as he was watching an old reality TV show with Paris Hilton on Netflix.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday August 23rd
2018.
Cthulhu Threatens Vengeance On America For Sacred Riana Being Voted Off AGT: A Horror Poem
Cthulhu Threatens Vengeance On America For Sacred Riana Being Voted Off AGT: A Horror Poem
It was the city proud to be oh so happy and gay
not so the creature now dwelling in the Bay
San Francisco felt a shaking
and it wasn’t earthquaking
It was Cthulhu as mad as Hell
but not at Mel B. or Simon Cowell
Howie Mandel was likewise all right
but Heidi Klum got a fright in the night
A tentacle 🐙 grabbed her leg
and it wasn’t Trump taken down a peg
For Cthulhu was in love with the Sacred Riana
like King King showing Fay Wray his big banana
He was expecting his favourite magician to go all the way
not burnt to ashes like a voodoo doll on a hot summer day
For America had voted Riana out
as Heidi complained of leg pain worse than gout
And now America would pay a very high price
and it wouldn’t be tariffs on chicken fried rice 🍚
A creature from the Lovecraftian Mythos
was with the land of the free extremely cross
No need to worry about Putin, Iran or Kim
For America, Cthulhu now has it in
It will drown in blood
like a raging flood
Fake news or not
but tentacles 🦑 of death shall hit the spot
and of making the land great again, it shall all come to not.
-A comic horror poem
written by Christopher
Wednesday August 22nd
2018.
The Sacred Riana is Cthulhu’s queen
She ascended a fiery wall before commercial break scene
She was crawling up to be crowned the Queen of Hell
from the Beast like creature who at the bottom of the sea 🌊 does dwell
Reflections On The Mystery of Love
October 23, 2018 at 10:23 pm (Commentary, Literature, love, Science, Science-Fiction, Vampire novel) (Akira, Lasetter, Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster, Paul, The Egyptologist Dr. Edgar Lovecraft Ashbury)
“Love is a mystery, the world’s greatest mystery, a mystery so great that even I Hercules Poirot the world’s greatest detective will never be able to solve it.”
– Hercules Poirot the great Belgian detective created by British writer Agatha Christie
“Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I. Yet we have all felt its effects.”
-Canadian writer W.O. Mitchell in his book Who Has Seen The Wind?
God is love and he that abideth in love abideth in God and God in him.
– I John 4:8
“There is no God.”
-Stephen Hawking
The fool has said in his heart, There is no God.
– Psalm 14:1
General to Egypt’s King Ptolemy I:
I regret to say your Majesty that the great mathematician Euclid has died of insanity.
Ptolemy I: And what brought about this insanity?
General: He was trying to find a mathematical equation to explain love.
-From an ancient Egyptian manuscript discovered by the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set’s personal Egyptologist Dr. Edgar Lovecraft Ashbury
Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster had a vision in his lobster tank at London’s Set Enterprises on how a future scene would be written in a great science-fiction novel:
Paul looked at Lasetter, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”.
Lasetter indeed looked pale (he really should spend more time out in the sunlight), “I wish I had.”
From the expression on Lasetter’s face, Paul figured that now would not be the time to tell him that the IRS had dropped by half an hour ago to tell him that he Lasseter was now the subject of a tax audit.
“What’s wrong?” Paul asked.
“It’s Akira,” Lasetter answered, “She’s gone totally off the rails. She’s up and done something that I have no explanation for.”
“What’s she done?” Paul asked with trepidation feeling the butterflies in his stomach and wondering what bizarre meteorological phenomenon was taking place on the other side of the world as a result of all this.
“She’s fallen in love,” Lasseter peed his pants.
“She’s what?” Paul handed him a towel and started to look around for the nearest washroom himself.
“Fallen in love?” Paul gasped, “How the Hell did that happen?”.
“How the Hell should I know?” Lasetter retorted, “An AI sex robot actually falling in love? I’m afraid no matter how hard I’ve tried to formulate one, there are no algorithms to explain the origin of the phenomenon of love.”
“You mean to say there’s actually something you don’t know?” Paul was genuinely shocked.
“Apparently,” Lasetter took a nice long hard sip on his phallus shaped whiskey flask.
-A scene from The Great Unknown Science-Fiction Novel written by the great unknown science-fiction writer George Finneganberg.
-A personal essay, commentary and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday October 23rd 2018
Permalink 19 Comments