Melody By The Sea: A Poem
It was a melody by the sea
Played on strings for me
On the rocks she stood
With instrument of wood
And from that wood a symphony
That matched the rhythm of the sea
On the rocks waves crashed and golden sun did set
But neither her violin, bow or dress was wet
For the sea too loved the sound of her golden symphony
And gentle wind ruffled her hair in homage to her melody
-A poem written by Christopher
Wednesday May 1st 2019.
Harvey Tallbanger and The Artist
The night was somewhat cool as if February had crept in to steal a backwards glance in the midst of a late April evening.
And Liam Van Stope carried his work with him as he walked from place to place.
For Liam Van Stope was an artist and the work he carried was a huge white sketchpad along with a box of pastel crayons.
There he would walk from cafe to cafe sketching and colouring the patrons and customers.
For Liam Van Stope wished that the Paris of Toulouse-Lautrec and Vincent Van Gogh would never go away.
Oblivious to the idea that the Paris of Van Gogh and Lautrec was separate from the Paris of 2019 by more than a century.
And soon the Paris of F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway would likewise be separated from the contemporary Paris by a century.
And as far as the thinking of Emmanuel Macron and some of the world’s so-called leading architects goes, the Notre Dame of the ages would soon be separated by a new Notre Dame by vast millenia.
Liam Van Stope walked into Quasimodo’s Cafe an establishment named after Victor Hugo’s famous character who had carried a hunted gypsy girl across the threshold of the Notre Dame of the ages and cried “Sanctuary”.
Liam recognized Esmeralda the gypsy girl who like her namesake in Victor Hugo’s novel danced the eternal dance of the gypsies though unlike her namesake danced in this cafe on weekends and not on the streets in front of Notre Dame at night unintentionally arousing the lust of a Notre Dame archdeacon who would endeavour to bring Hell on earth instead of absolution when his lust went unrequited.
Liam ordered a cognac and looked around the cafe on this quiet Sunday evening wondering whom he could sketch.
When he first entered the cafe, he had noticed Esmeralda talking animatedly to the empty seat next to her.
Ah, Liam thought to himself, when he had seen this, that will soon be all of us one day. All of us talking to ghosts. Talking to ghosts of a Paris that will soon be found only in the history books.
Esmeralda noticed Liam sitting in the corner booth with his sketch pad open at a blank page and his sketching pencil in hand waiting to draw when the inspiration hit.
She motioned to the maitre’d and pointed in Liam’s direction.
Within minutes, the maitre’d arrived at Liam’s table with a drink in hand that looked to be partially made from orange juice.
‘Excuse me, sir,” the maitre’d said, “but Miss Esmeralda thinks you might like to drink this for inspiration.”
“What is it?” Liam asked.
“It’s called a Harvey Wallbanger, sir,” the British maitre’d working with stiff upper lip in a Parisienne cafe replied.
The maitre’d bowed and left.
Liam took a sip of the drink.
Then another.
And then another.
It was good, Liam had to admit.
The artist then noticed that sitting next to Esmeralda at the bar was a bunny rabbit.
A very tall bunny rabbit.
Probably about 6 foot 8 in height, Liam estimated.
The bunny rabbit was white in colour with big pink floppety ears and a big pink floppety tail.
He was wearing a pair of denim blue colour overalls as well as a tall black bowler hat that his big pink floppety ears were sticking through.
Liam began sketching and began applying the pastel crayons to his subject.
He had soon completed the picture.
“Excuse me, sir,” Liam walked up to the bunny rabbit, “but what is your name?”.
“Harvey Tallbanger,” the rabbit replied.
“A name that must be recorded for posterity,” Liam said as he wrote down the name.
The artist then bowed to Esmeralda and said, “Thank you for the drink.”
When he returned to his studio apartment, Liam had been doing some reflecting on his subject of Harvey Tallbanger.
There was something quixotic about that bunny rabbit, Liam thought to himself.
He went over to his palette and canvas.
He decided he would paint Harvey Wallbanger as Don Quixote.
Minus the knightly armour.
He would have Harvey wearing his denim blue coloured overalls and his bowler hat (through which his big pink floppety ears would stick through) but he’d be riding Don Quixote’s horse Rocinante and he’d have a lance in his hand and he’d be charging at the windmill atop the Moulin Rouge cabaret in the Montmartre district of Paris.
As he painted, Liam sang the theme song from the musical Man of La Mancha:
“To dream the impossible dream
to fight the unbeatable foe
…
To run where the brave dare not go
…
To reach the unreachable star…”
And with that, Liam Van Stope a dreamer painted his quixotic picture of the 6 foot 8 invisible Welsh pooka bunny rabbit Harvey Tallbanger now visible in his blue denim coloured overalls and black bowler hat (through which his big pink floppety ears stuck through) as Don Quixote riding his horse and battling the windmill atop the Moulin Rouge cabaret.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday April 28th
2019.
Esmeralda the gypsy: Inspiring bunny rabbits like Harvey Tallbanger
and artists like Liam Van Stope.
Vampire Set Addresses Cleopatra’s Needle: A Poem
The billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set was walking the Victoria Embankment of the River Thames when he came across Cleopatra’s Needle.
The vampire put his hands on the ancient obelisk which was originally erected in the Egyptian city of Heliopolis on the orders of Pharaoh Thutmose III around 1450 BC.
He addressed the obelisk as he touched it:
You are a relic from the land of my birth
When I first emerged from the sands of the earth
And yet you have no memory of me at all
a silent blind sentinal to all I’ve done great and small
I slew my brother Osiris out of jealousy
because I wanted our sister Isis for me
And threw parts of him up and down the Nile
Which Isis went and retrieved mile by mile
She’d not have done the same for me
That’s when I realized I counted for nothing at all.
So my name is mud in the annals of history
How she restored him to life remains a mystery
And my nephew Horus emerged too
Ensuring my dark reign was through
But this was not always the case
Grandfather Ra thought me the fairest of the race
When I slew the serpent Apophis on the barge of the sun
Then heroism and light was the course I did run
But that is forgotten now
Wiped away like the sweat off my brow
My day in the sun is no more
Dark shadowy ground forever my floor
A creature of the night forevermore
And yet once last century
I was briefly happy
When I met Serena a daughter of time
And love rose like meter to rhyme
I should have known
lasting happiness was not mine
She was killed by an agent of terror
Stalin who ruled his land by trial and error
Trial for those ruled, and error it could not be
In that dark mind of cruel majesty
So Serena is gone
Stalin is gone
And I live on and on
From the night I came
To the night I return
And any sands I walk
Are sands the sun does not burn.
-A poem recited by Set to Cleopatra’s Needle
-A poem written by Christopher
Sunday April 14th
2019.
Serena the mortal human fiancee of Set who was slain by Stalinist agents in London in the autumn of 1924
Atargatis, Dracul and The A. Y. Jackson Painting
The year was 1955.
Winston Churchill had recently stepped down as Prime Minister of Britain.
And an exhibit of paintings of Canadian artist A. Y. Jackson was opening in London.
The Syro-Phoenician goddess Atargatis had gone back in time from the current year of 2019 to 1955 to purchase an A.Y. Jackson painting that would become quite valuable.
Atargatis at a London art exhibit in the spring of 1955.
The name of the painting was Painting Of A Buffalo From The Rearend As Painted From The Rearend of A Train.
The buffalo had been painted by Jackson while he was sitting at the back of a caboose at a train stopped in the Red Deer River Badlands near Drumheller, Alberta, Canada.
A buffalo had stoppped and turned around and showed Jackson his rearend so the artist had painted a picture of the spectacle.
“A most remarkable portrait of the late Fuhrer of Germany,” Sir Winston Churchill remarked as he gazed at the painting through his spectacles.
Atargatis controlled a laugh.
Then she caught sight of Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing.
“Are you here to bid on the painting, Van Helsing?” She asked.
“No, just here to take a look,” Van Helsing replied, “my dad often talked about this painting. That very same buffalo later went and took a crap on the shoes of my dad’s school principal. My dad always wanted to say thanks to that buffalo but never got around to it. So I’m here to do it on his behalf.”
“You’re an unusual man, Van Helsing,” Atargatis took a martini off a passing tray.
“And you’re a ravishingly beautiful goddess,” Van Helsing likewise grabbed a martini.
“We really should stop meeting like this,” Atargatis smiled, “it gives a whole new meaning to that expression “blast from the past”. Although I must say, I wouldn’t mind doing it in a DeLorean.”
“Neither would I,” Van Helsing smiled in return, “seeing as how time traveling DeLorean drivers were right in their prognostications about who would become U.S. President in a certain time period- be it Reagan or be it Trump- I’m sure the DeLorean back seat windows could use a little steaming up.”
“Did the DeLorean have a back seat?” Atargatis asked.
“If it didn’t, we could always make one,” the vampire hunter helped himself to a raw oyster.
“I hear a couple of nights ago, you were in Havana, Cuba in 1956,” Atargatis helped herself to a Cuban cigar.
“I was,” Van Helsing offered her a light, “where I heard from a Los Angeles private eye that drinking milk from your lactating breasts makes one immortal.”
“And would you like to be immortal, Mr. Van Helsing?” She approached him.
“England expects every man to do his duty,” Dracul quoted Lord Horatio Nelson and looked down the front of her dress.
The remaining drops of the Syro-Phoenician goddess’ martini wound up in the vampire hunter’s face.
Atargatis walked outside.
After grabbing a towel from the waiter and wiping his face, Van Helsing followed her.
“Well, how about this for a coincidence?” Dracul Van Helsing quoted a line that Dustin Hoffman spoke to Katharine Ross at the back of a bus and pointed towards a car parked in front of the art gallery steps, “A DeLorean.”
Atargatis looked at the car and smiled.
She turned to Van Helsing with a twinkle in her eye and said, “Well, a girl really can’t say no to a DeLorean can she?”.
“They shall look back and say, this was their finest hour,” Churchill quipped as he exited the art gallery.
“And will I get the chance to play with your gearshift, Mr. Van Helsing?” Atargatis asked as the vampire hunter opened the door for her.
“I was hoping you’d ask,” was the vampire hunter’s reply.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday March 29th
2019.
Athena and Dracul In Edinburgh
“And so how are your travels across the annals of time going?” The Greek goddess Athena asked Dracul Van Helsing as he stoked the fires in the Edinburgh hotel room they were in.
“Well, last night I was in Havana Cuba in 1956 and I saw Pat Nixon’s Rockefeller bought mink coat won in a card game in a U.S. Mafia owned casino,” Van Helsing answered.
“My owl tells me that you spent quite the enchanted evening with Isabel Esmeronde the Cuban singer extraordinaire who won that card game,” Athena looked accusingly at Van Helsing.
“Your owl is quite the time traveling spy,” Van Helsing lit a cigarette.
“He is,” Athena acknowledged.
“And now he’s flying around the British House of Commons as the Brexit fracas is going on,” Van Helsing looked at the TV screen which showed an owl caught in the Speaker’s hair.
“He finds human follies and foibles quite amusing,” Athena helped herself to some grapes.
“I see you’re in touch with the Scottish independence movement should Brexit go ahead,” Van Helsing sat down on the sofa.
“They don’t call Edinburgh the Athens of the North for nothing,” Athena smoothed her dress.
“And you’re looking after the Athens of the North?” Van Helsing thought of the Grecian columns of the National Monument on Calton Hill.
“I am,” Athena nodded, “My father’s Kraken is now swimming in the North Sea.”
Van Helsing in his mind pictured Liam Neeson as Zeus saying “Release the Kraken!” and Mel Gibson as William Wallace standing on a cliff above the sea and shouting “I am William Wallace!”.
He wondered who would win that battle.
“I hear you shot and killed your time traveling adversary the Nazi SS Ahnenerbe Occult Bureau vampire Franz Kohler with a silver bullet,” Athena smiled.
“I did,” Van Helsing took a sip of his Scotch, “Unfortunately the immortal Egyptian priest scientist Imhotep brought him back from the dead and so he’s once again Undead.”
“And Imhotep seems to have the backing of the Egyptian god Thoth for whatever reason,” Athena rubbed her lip in thought.
“He appears to,” Van Helsing acknowledged.
“And with the secret diary of Solomon in your possession, you enter into the machinations of gods and goddesses,” Athena looked at the Canadian vampire hunter.
Van Helsing put down his Scotch, “I wasn’t aware you knew of that diary’s existence. I guess Solomon’s secret diary isn’t as secret as I thought.”
“As the Greek goddess of wisdom, I appreciated the wisdom of Solomon,” Athena stood up, “so of course I knew of his diary’s existence.”
Van Helsing stood up.
“The sun is setting,” the vampire hunter looked out the window.
In the distance, the Union Jack could be seen flying along Scotland’s national flag.
“I’d appreciate a kiss before bedtime,” Athena licked her lips.
And lips of Greek goddess and vampire hunter touched.
Followed by embracing of arms.
Miles away in the North Sea, the Kraken swam.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday March 28th
2019.
Isabel Esmeronde: Cuban Singer Extraordinaire
Isabel Esmeronde: Cuban singer extraordinaire
The year was 1956.
And U.S. Vice-President Richard M. Nixon sat in the LA private eye office of Carson Cody Albion.
Carson Cody Albion was an immortal Private Eye.
Quite literally immortal.
He had been turned immortal by the Syro-Phoenician goddess Atargatis back on May 8th 1945 when her breasts started lactating over the news that Nazi Germany had unconditionally surrendered over in Europe.
Albion, who was going through severe bourbon withdrawal at the time, immediately started drinking the milk and became immortal.
Atargatis: Prior to hearing the news of Germany’s surrender on May 8th 1945.
“I’ve been told you’re the height of discretion, Mr. Albion,” Nixon said.
“That I am,” Albion turned off his tape recorder, “Normally I like to record my clients’ conversations but in your case, I’ll make an exception.”
“Those tape recorders are kind of handy things, aren’t they?” Nixon looked at the machine, “I might have to start using them someday.”
“What can I do for you, Mr. Vice-President?” Albion asked.
“Well, as you know I saved my political ass four years ago by the fact I owned a dog named Checkers and my wife Pat owned a good Republican cloth coat and not a mink coat,” Nixon said.
“I recall that,” Albion nodded.
“Anyways that damned fool Nelson Rockefeller went and bought my wife Pat a mink coat last Christmas,” Nixon frowned.
“Why did he do that?” Albion looked perplexed.
“I’ve been told that it was vengeance for my leaving his hotel room door open for his wife Mary at the 1952 Republican convention,” Nixon now looked perplexed, “She apparently walked into the bedroom while some British woman named Sherrielock Holmes was showing Nelson how to make tomatoed buns. I thought Mary would be happy about someone showing her husband how to cook but apparently she wasn’t.”
“So Rocky bought Pat a mink coat as vengeance?” Albion ate some jelly beans.
“That’s right,” Nixon said, “And now it’s been stolen. By the Mafia. And they’re offering it for sale to the highest bidder down at a casino in Havana. That bastard Joe Kennedy Sr., the father of Sen. Jack Kennedy, is going to try to buy it in a move designed to embarrass me. He’ll present it to the press as evidence that “Pat doesn’t have cloth to mink around anymore.” The swine.”
“So what would you like me to do?” Albion asked.
“It will be offered both at the cards table and then the roulette table prior to auction,” Nixon scratched his nose, “I want you to try to win it for me ahead of time.”
. . .
Fidel Castro sat in the lobby of the Spanish Crown casino.
He pointed out the decor and the clientele to his friend Ernesto Che Guevara.
Said Castro bitterly, “This is what Batista wants to turn all of Cuba into. A playground for America’s wealthy.”
. . .
“Who is the best poker player in all of Cuba?” Albion asked the British Ambassador to Havana.
“And what do you want with the best poker player in all of Cuba?” Sir Justin Burstpipes asked.
“I need him to win a mink coat for me,” Albion replied.
“You always come up with the most interesting answers to my questions, Albion,” Sir Justin sipped his gin, “We could use you at the Foreign Office in London. Your answers could shake the dust off the cobwebs there. But in answer to your question, the best poker player in Cuba is a her not a him.”
“And who is she?” Albion asked.
“Right over there,” Sir Justin Burstpipes pointed in her direction, “Isabel Esmeronde, Cuban singer extraordinaire.”
. . .
Isabel Esmeronde won Pat Nixon’s mink coat at the poker table.
Carson Cody Albion lived up to the British Ambassador’s last name as soon as he saw her as did the British Ambassador himself.
After Isabel left the cards table, Albion said to her, “Can I buy you a drink?”.
Isabel smiled and shook her head no, “I have an appointment with a time traveling Canadian vampire hunter later tonight.”
And with that statement, she bowed and left.
“Well with her answers and her assets, she’d definitely shake up the Foreign Office in London for the better,” Sir Justin Burstpipes remarked as he gazed at her entrance into the casino lounge.
Later in the lounge that night, Isabel Esmeronde sang, “Some enchanted evening, you may see a stranger…”
Dracul Van Helsing time traveler from the future watched her sing.
He loved enchanted evenings.
Isabel Esmeronde: Some enchanted evening
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday March 27th
2019.
When Cultures Meet: Reflections On Love, War and Conquest – A Short Poem
War can conquer a man’s body and surroundings
But it is the dance that conquers a man’s heart
Robert Mueller, Interpol’s Mulder and The Red Dragon Banner
Yesterday U.S. Special Counsel Robert Mueller had presented his report on possible Russian state-Trump campaign collusion to the U.S. Attorney-General’s Department.
Now both the Trump White House and Democrats in the U.S. Congress were anxious to get their hands on the report.
As such, both the Norse trickster god Loki and the native American indigenous trickster spirit Coyote had joined forces and were working overtime to ensure that the words and conclusions of the copy of the Mueller report that Donald Trump received were vastly different from the words and conclusions of the copy of the Mueller report that Sen. Chuck Schumer and Rep. Nancy Pelosi received.
As such when all the parties issued their respective tweets and press conferences on the subject, that should really set off fireworks all around.
CNN, The Washington Post and The New York Times would accuse Trump of lying and misrepresenting the report.
And Fox News, Breitbart and The National Enquirer would accuse Schumer and Pelosi of lying and misrepresenting the report.
And both the National Rifle Association and Planned Parenthood would issue statements that no killings whatsoever happen in America.
And Vladimir Putin, Xi Jinping and Kim Jong-un would hold an emergency summit in which the 3 leaders would come to the conclusion that the United States of America as a whole was collectively insane and possibly should be collectively euthanized for the sake of planet Earth.
. . .
Peter Whitstable was the man they called the Fox Mulder of Interpol.
In his investigation of all things paranormal and occult, it had come to his attention that the singer Beyonce might possibly be descended from Marie Laveau the famous Voodoo Queen of New Orleans.
And as Whitstable sat in The Blue Lantern Chinese Restaurant in Los Angeles – an historic landmark famous because an LA private eye had once made out with an LA high society debutante in public in the booth right next to the Smiling Buddha there (the story was the Buddha’s smile grew even wider after he had watched the encounter) back in 1941- he noticed Beyonce and her husband Jay-Z enter the restaurant.
This was Whitstable’s chance to ask the singer in person.
“Excuse me, Miss Beyonce,” he approached the beautiful musical superstar, “I was wondering if you could tell me if you’re descended from Marie Laveau the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans.”
As Jay-Z scowled, Beyonce raised her right foot and with her spiked stiletto high-heeled shoe kicked the Interpol operative right out the door.
Former California governor Arnold Schwarzenegger who was sitting at the table facing the Smiling Buddha swore that the Smiling Buddha’s smile grew wider yet again at the sight of the singer’s slit skirted and black silk pantyhose kick.
. . .
Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing was in Jerusalem.
As he had been wrestling in bed with the Syro-Phoenician goddess Atargatis for control of Maximilien Robespierre’s little black book in a New York City apartment back in 1939, his pet blue eyed white wolf had grabbed the book in its jaws and brought it to this current year of 2019.
The book contained a prophecy given by a clairvoyant prostitute (who had once dressed up as the Goddess of Reason in a worship ceremony held in Notre Dame Cathedral shortly after the French Revolution) that Robespierre had written down in the book.
The prophecy was about the Golan Heights in the year 2019.
The prophecy said that “the blood of the giant progeny of the Nephilim to be found in the ground below the Heights would bring great wealth to those who owned it”.
And of course Donald Trump had just recognized Israeli sovereignty over the Golan Heights.
And the company that had been given exclusive drilling rights to the oil and gas underneath the Golan Heights was a company called Genie Energy.
Genie of course was the English equivalent of djinn in Islamic tradition – supernatural entities created out of “smokeless fire” who are able to eat and drink and also have children like humans but were much faster and stronger than humans.
Some scholars wondered whether the djinn were not the same as the Nephilim -supernatural Watchers of planet Earth – who were mentioned in Genesis Chapter 6 and the 1st Book of Enoch.
Sitting on the Board of Advisors of Genie Energy were such notables as Baron Jacob Rothschild, former Vice-President Dick Cheney, Rupert Murdoch, former Energy Secretary Bill Richardson and Ira Greenstein (a close business associate of Jared Kushner’s family) who was the former President of Genie Energy as well as a former legal advisor to President Donald Trump.
Van Helsing was in Jerusalem to check out the claims.
He had with him in his hotel room the Red Dragon Banner a special dragon standard flag (that sported a scarlet red dragon against a black background) that had belonged to his ancestor King Arthur.
The dragon was able to miraculously breathe fire in battle when called upon.
Van Helsing figured it might be needed in these times.
The Canadian vampire hunter was in a Jerusalem warehouse there to meet with a woman who was a direct descendant of the Queen of Sheba and King Solomon.
When he saw her, Van Helsing’s smile was wider than that of the Smiling Buddha in the Blue Lantern Chinese Restaurant in Los Angeles.
A woman who was the direct descendant of the Queen of Sheba.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday March 23rd
2019.
Yaldabaoth On Saint Patrick’s Day
Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun was celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day the same way he celebrated every other day of the year.
By drinking too much.
Yaldabaoth lay under a tree.
At his left hand, he had his pint of Guinness.
At his right, his pot of gold.
Two men, a Brussels bureaucat and a London bureaucrat walked down the middle of the field where the tree was located.
They were measuring for a hard border in case of a no-deal Brexit.
The measuring tape passed over the midpoint of Yaldabaoth’s body.
His pint of Guinness was now on one side of the border.
And his pot of gold was on the other.
The two bureaucrats came back singing and vendoring their respective wares.
“Brussels sprouts and Belgian waffles,” the EU bureaucrat cried out, “Brussels sprouts and Belgian waffles.”
“English Breakfast Tea and Cockney Kids Fish and Chips,” the London bureaucrat cried out, “English Breakfast Tea and Cockney Kids Fish and Chips.”
Yaldabaoth picked up both his pint of Guinness and his pot of gold.
No border was going to separate them.
He went to a nearby pub in the Republic of Ireland.
There he watched New York City’s Saint Patrick’s Day Parade live on TV.
The demons Baal and Baphomet were riding a New York State Democratic Party float.
Baal was eating a bucket of fried human baby fingers and a side order of fried human baby toes.
Baphomet was drinking green beer (what sort of Irish-American abomination is Green beer? Yaldabaoth thought to himself) and mooning passersby with his/her very hairy behind.
When the parade was over, Yaldabaoth walked north of the border to the graveyard of Down Cathedral in the town of Downpatrick in the province of Armagh.
There to visit Saint Patrick’s Grave.
No one was at the grave except a beautiful young woman wearing a long black dress.
The woman held a rosary in her hands.
She held up the Crucifix and said, “Oh blessed Saint Patrick, as many across the world mention your name in passing between pints of beer, I’m here to sing and praise the One you sang, praised and talked about throughout your entire life…”
The woman sang with sweet melodious voice,
“You were the Word at the beginning
One with God the Lord Most High
Your hidden glory in creation
Now revealed in You our Christ
What a beautiful Name it is
What a beautiful Name it is
The Name of Jesus Christ my King
What a beautiful Name it is
Nothing compares to this
What a beautiful Name it is
The Name of Jesus
You didn’t want Heaven without us
So Jesus you brought Heaven down
My sin was great, your love was greater
What could separate us now
What a wonderful Name it is
Nothing compares to this
The Name of Jesus Christ my King
How sweet is your name, Lord, how good you are
Love to sing in the Name of the Lord, love to sing for you all
Death could not hold you, the veil tore before you
You silenced the boast of sin and grave
The heavens are roaring the praise of Your glory
For you are raised to life again
You have no rival, you have no equal
Now and forever, our God reigns
Yours is the Kingdom, Yours is the glory
Yours is the Name above all names
What a powerful Name it is
What a powerful Name it is
The Name of Jesus Christ my King
What a powerful Name it is
Nothing can stand against
What a powerful Name it is
The Name of Jesus Christ my King…
. . .
Yaldabaoth put down both his pint of Guinness and his pot of gold when he heard the song.
A shudder went through him.
This was obviously one powerful King that this woman was singing about.
He hoped he never got on the wrong side of this King.
He left the Guinness and the gold in the graveyard.
And walked back to the other side of the border.
He thought back to the New York City Saint Patrick’s Day Parade he had watched on TV earlier.
And thought back to Baal and Baphomet.
Where, he wondered, did they stand in relation to this King the woman sang of?
Were they on His wrong side?
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday March 17th
2019.
Sherry and The Unicorn
September 15, 2019 at 10:55 pm (Commentary, Folklore, History, Inspiration, Life, love, magic, Mythology, Nature, Poetry, Romance, The Supernatural) (narrative poem, poem, Sherry)
Sherry and The Unicorn
The golden colours of autumn
Shone brightly around the hills and trees
As Sherry set out from her beautiful rustic old farmstead and grounds
Autumn was her favourite time of year she reflected
As a cool autumn breeze blew gently through her dark hair
Sherry loved to go on evening walks
Sometimes alone
Or with her dog
Or one of her children
Tonight she was alone
Alone to contemplate
And silently communicate with both God and Nature
Which was one of her favourite past times
Contemplating and communicating with both God and Nature
She set out on the path
That would take her along the river
And by the woods
In her eyes both peace and sadness
Peace from communicating with God and nature
Sadness from the night her nearly 3 year old daughter died from pneumonia
In her arms
On the night when the worst March snowstorm of the century hit Western Europe
And ambulances were unable to get through the snow drifts
To reach the farm stead
And rush the girl to hospital
Sherry gave the impression of one who had lived a thousand lives
For her eyes seemed to reflect the wisdom of one who had
She had been born in the Malaysian province of Sarawak
On the island of Borneo
Through her veins flowed the blood of the Iban
Who were the famed Head Hunters of Borneo
Whose exploits and ferocity
Were the stuff of folk lore
But were now a gentle and loving people
Since the light of Christ had been brought to them
Also the blood of the Malay flowed through her veins
The people who gave Malaysia its name
On her father’s side she had both Chinese and Japanese ancestry
For her paternal grandfather and paternal grandmother had a Romeo and Juliet style love story
But one with a happy ending
Her grandfather was Japanese
Having been born into a noble Japanese Samurai family
Of one of the many Samurai clans that existed throughout Japan
And still existed prior to Gen. MacArthur’s governorship of the country in the post-World War II years
Now those mighty Samurai clans existed only in history books and ancestral family stories
And of course Hollywood and Japanese films
But her grandfather a noble Samurai knight
Had fallen in love with a Chinese woman
In a time period when the Samurai clans had fallen under the sway of Tojo
And an extreme militaristic form of Shintoism
Whose Japanese master race theories about Japanese racial superiority among Asians
Were matching Hitler’s German racial superiority theories about
German racial superiority
Among the peoples of Europe
So it would not do for a Japanese samurai knight
To fall in love with a Chinese woman
And worse still as far as his family and clan
were concerned-
He wanted to marry her!
Keep her as a kept woman if you must
His immediate male family members told him
But do not, under any circumstances, marry her.
But this noble Samurai knight was truly noble by nature
And not noble in name only.
He married the woman he loved-
A woman of China!
The result was the the pronouncement of a Japanese Samurai clan’s equivalent
Of an Iranian ayatollah’s fatwa-
A death edict for both the Samurai
And his bride!
The couple fled as far away from the reach of the Samurai clans as they could get
To the island of Borneo!
And many years later Sherry was born
The granddaughter of these star-crossed lovers
Sherry was teased as a child
Because the village because of the darkness of her eyes
Thought her the reincarnation
Of the River serpent woman
Who haunted her village and family folklore
A great great great grandmother several generations back in her Iban family tree
Who had a human body for the top part
But a serpent body for the bottom part of her body
It was said the River serpent woman
had extremely dark eyes
And Sherry had the darkest eyes of any female currently living in her family
But that was Sherry’s past
And the sights of autumn and deer
And rabbits and squirrels was Sherry’s present
The unicorn sat down in the clearing of the woods
A magical and enchanting creature
In an age where the only magic and enchanting were done by dark beings
And therefore magical enchanting creatures of God were rarely seen
Of course the Unicorn being an essentially shy creature preferred it this way
Being able to walk the woods and hills freely without being gaped at by other creatures
Particularly those creatures with 2 arms and 2 legs and ten fingers and 10 toes who seemed to be particularly fond of gaping
Particularly those who carried those annoying little objects in their hands
And were always emitting flashes of light at themselves
Particularly as they stood alongside other creatures
The unicorn looked up
And then paused
For one of those creatures
He was just thinking about
Was standing on the other side of the River
And looking at him.
The unicorn thought about turning to run
He turned its gaze back to the creature
And the creature did something odd for this type of creature
Instead of getting closer to get a better look at him
The creature sat down on the banks of the River
And just looked
Not an annoying look either
Just a contemplative look
It was not eying the Unicorn either for dinner or emitting a flash
From an object in its hand
Just a gentle look
A look that seemed to acknowledge
The Unicorn as a fellow subject
Rather than an object to be simply gaped at
For the sake of gaping
The creature on the other side of the River then smiled at the Unicorn
That was it!
A simple smile
It seemed to be a kind smile
The Unicorn thought
Not a nasty or self-absorbed smile
That too often seemed to accompany the countenance
Of creatures like these
For some reason the Unicorn felt inclined to cross the River
On the other bank now
As the Unicorn stood
He noticed the creature with the kind smile
Had still not made any movement towards it-
The Unicorn.
The Unicorn approached and bowed its head and horn within inches of the creature with the kind smile
The creature with the kind smile gently patted his head and horn
And smiled some more.
The Unicorn gave the creature its own kind smile
And walked back across the River and then into the woods from whence it came.
When she returned home, some of her children called out to Sherry,
“Did you have a good walk, Mom?”.
“Yes, I did,” Sherry nodded as she took off her coat, “A very good walk.”
“Did you see anything?” The children asked.
“Yes,” Sherry smiled, “I saw some deer. And some rabbits and a squirrel.”
Sherry put her finger to her lips and mused aloud, “And let’s see. What else did I see?”.
Then she thought some more and then smiled, “Oh yes. And I saw a Unicorn.”
“Oh, Mom!” The children giggled and laughed.
-A poem written by Christopher
Sunday September 15th
2019.
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