The April Fool
The April Fool
The following poem was written by a friend of mine Father Jacob Boddicker SJ a Jesuit priest (a rare breed of Jesuit for these times – one who’s actually a Christian and not a Marxist) whose parish consists of serving several communities on the Lakota Sioux reservation in the Black Hills of South Dakota.
I first came to know Father Jacob (we’ve never met in person) when he was a young seminarian and noviciate in the Jesuit order when he had a blog at the Xanga blogging site back in 2009 where I also had my primary blog at the time.
When my dad died from cancer in June of 2010, every few days for the next year I’d get a message from Jacob asking me how I was doing.
We still keep in touch.
He was finally ordained a priest about 3 or 4 years ago.
And has been serving the people of the Lakota Sioux First Nation ever since where he was assigned after ordination.
This is his poem that he wrote today and posted on his Facebook page entitled The April Fool:
The April Fool
By Father Jacob Boddicker SJ
“Tear down this temple,” the April Fool cried,
“And on the third day shalt I raise it up.”
On an ass did he come, crowd-hailed, then hied
to a quiet place with his friends to sup.
“This bread is my Flesh; this wine is my Blood,”
yet to all ’twas no change in look or taste.
Though claimed he divine, heeded not ill-brood
of one there, silver-swayed, who’d lay him waste.
The Fool, who dared to trust, abandoned was to mock and spit, blood and bone, agony,
then though innocent bore he his own cross
‘fore enthroned a sad lord on Calvary.
“The jester king!” laughed they, those people cruel;
but on day three proved they the April fools.
Reblog of The Death of The March Hare: A Poem
A narrative poem I wrote 3 years ago today:
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…
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A Banyan Tree Grows On The Moon
A Banyan Tree Grows On The Moon
Walking the streets of Honolulu in 1946
Was Los Angeles private eye Carson Cody Albion
He was on vacation
After having solved the mysterious case of the Blue Velvet Dandelion
back in LA
He walked through some of the crafts shops in the city
He noticed one belonging to a man who made ships in a bottle
Carson entered the store and looked around
He noticed one ship in a bottle that attracted his attention
“What ship is this?” Albion asked the craftsman
“The Santa Maria,” the craftsman replied
“The Santa Maria?” Carson looked at the ship in the bottle, “That was Christopher Columbus’ flagship in 1492 on his journey to the New World wasn’t it?”
“That’s right,” the craftsman nodded.
“I’ll take it,” Albion paid the craftsman
He walked out of the store and on to the avenue
An elderly Hawaiian woman was at a stand selling coconuts
The private eye looked at the coconuts but wasn’t hungry at the moment
So he didn’t buy.
“A Banyan tree grows on the moon,” the coconut woman shouted after him.
“What?” Albion walked back to her.
“A Banyan tree grows on the moon,” she repeated.
“Oh, okay,” Albion figured that the woman had been adding too much rum to her coconut milk
and decided to continue walking
“What are you planning to do with that ship in a bottle that’s in your shopping bag?” The woman asked him.
Albion wondered how she knew there was a ship in a bottle in his shopping bag
However he answered, “I don’t know”.
“Here’s a small piece of Kapa cloth,” the woman handed him just that,
“Take this pen and write on it what I have told you, “A Banyan tree grows on the moon”. Then put the Kapa cloth with the message in the bottle alongside the ship and throw it in the ocean where the waves will carry it where it may.”
It was a strange request but Albion felt compelled to comply
That night as the Hawaiian moon shone bright on the shore and sands, he threw the bottle with the ship, Kapa cloth and message into the ocean.
It was a late March night in 2020
The streets of London were deserted because of the countrywide lockdown over the Coronavirus
but Dracul Van Helsing had a paper signed by Boris Johnson
granting him permission to walk the streets
To rid the city of any evil nocturnal creatures
As Dracul walked along the banks of the Thames
He noticed a small bottle floating close to the shore
The vampire hunter picked it up
It appeared to be very old
And it almost had the appearance of having travelled all over the world
How did it wind up here on the Thames? he wondered.
He looked inside the bottle
He recognized the ship as being the Santa Maria
He pulled out the small piece of Kapa cloth and noticed the message on it
“A Banyan tree grows on the moon,” Dracul read aloud.
He went back to his London apartment
Carrying the ship in the bottle and its message with him
He went inside the room he used as an office
And saw this vision
“Who are you?” Dracul asked.
“I am Mahina the Hawaiian and Polynesian goddess of the moon”
The woman answered.
-A narrative poem
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday March 29th
2020.
A Delightful Duck Called Samuel Puddlington
A Delightful Duck Called Samuel Puddlington
The lovely Latin señorita that danced with the delightful duck called Samuel Puddlington
Here’s a poem I wrote almost 3 years ago when the delightful duck called Samuel Puddlington and his friends the froggy green little frog and the big-eared hare that munched on a carrot orange and fair as well as the lovely Latin señorita that Samuel danced with did not have to practice social distancing:
https://draculvanhelsing.wordpress.com/2017/05/03/the-duck-called-samuel-puddlington-a-poem/
Reblog of The Headless Horseman In New York: A Poem
A poem I wrote 4 years ago today.
The Headless Horseman In New York: A Poem
A can of Dew Kickstart one could barely swallow
when one saw the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow
riding his horse down Fifth Avenue
swiping from a traffic cop a bowl of Irish stew
but realizing he had no mouth to eat it
he threw it aside quoting Michael Jackson, “Beat it.”
He then rode to Park Avenue
and starting to feel a little blue
sang that grand old tune
by the light of silvery moon,
“Puttin’ on the Ritz
Dressed up like a million dollar trouper
Trying hard to look like Gary Cooper”
And having no head the Headless Horseman failed miserably at looking like Gary Cooper
he more resembled Donald Trump minus his red spider monkey fur toup-er
And thus he left New York a Presidential party pooper.
-A poem written by Christopher
Sunday March 20th 2016.
The Storyteller: Weaving Cloth and Spinning A Tale
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
Reblog of Saint Patrick’s Day: A Poem
A poem I wrote 5 years ago today.
Saint Patrick’s Day: A Poem
On the shores of Galilee a certain Carpenter did teach
oh how to Tara’s golden halls would that message reach
A lad was in his 16th year when into pirating hands he fell
and carried across the Irish Sea to an Emerald Isle to dwell
sold as a slave to the chieftan Milchu
so what did this young lad do?
For six years in County Antrim he tended his master’s flocks in the Valley of the Braid
this boy becoming a man who was captured in a raid
After six years he fled his cruel master and bent his steps towards the west
His journey of 200 miles was really quite the test
At Killala Bay he set sail towards the land of his birth
but as a future Bard once wrote, “There are more things in heaven and earth…”
A new master did young…
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Searching For Wisdom In A Hall of Mirrors
Searching For Wisdom In A Hall of Mirrors
In a quiet room in London
Van Helsing sat
He looked over at his old black and white TV from the 1950s
That he had bought from a vintage antique shop
The TV was off
But he could imagine images on the TV screen
Pope Francis, like the Soup Nazi from the old Seinfeld TV show, wagging his finger and saying to the Catholic Faithful,
“No Holy Communion Sacrifice of The Mass for you”,
A girl with purple hair in a pink convertible singing her own version of an old Danish pop group Aqua song,
“I’m a Corona girl in a Corona world, it’s fantastic,
Our oceans are filled with plastic…”
Russian President Vladimir Putin proclaiming that 2024 (the 100th Anniversary of Lenin’s Death) will be year 0 for the new Russian Constitution
So since things are starting anew, he can run for 2 new six year Presidential terms
Allowing him to remain in power until 2036
Donald Trump waving off testing for the Coronavirus and saying,
“I’m so jealous of Vladimir Putin right now”
Justin Trudeau dressed as a blackfaced 17th Century Jamaican pirate aboard a ship
And singing his own version of an old sea shanty folk song,
“What shall we do with the Coronavirus?
What shall we do with the Coronavirus?
So earl-lie in the morning,
Way hey, up she rises
Way hey, up she rises”
And the Coronavirus rises as a beautiful woman
Holding a golden cup full of… wine?
(But Bela Lugosi’s Dracula does not drink wine)
And rising while sitting on a 10-headed 7-horned beast
Dracul wondered, Where is wisdom?
He found himself walking through the Hall of Mirrors
In the 1947 Orson Welles film
The Lady From Shanghai
Before the mirrors had all been shot out by some of the protagonists of that story
And there in one of the mirrors he saw
Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom
So here is wisdom, Dracul thought to himself,
Lost in a mirror in a Hall of Mirrors.
-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday March 10th
2020.
Reblog of Ghost Ship: The Flying Dutchman Sails On and On
A supernatural narrative poem and vampire novel chapter I wrote over a year and 3 months ago:
On a moonlit night the sky’s spotlight
casts its rays down on tonight’s performer
a sailing ship rising out of the mist
in a globe theatre where sea and sky do meet
From underneath the water Poseidon’s hand
seems to rise from below the depths
lifting the old Dutchman like a pearl of great price
as an offering and a gift to Diana’s lantern in the night sky
Oh ship of mighty oak and sturdy deck and towering masts
what a price thou hast paid
for having for a master one Captain Hendrick Van der Decken
He who would make league and sup with the Devil
to have the fastest ship that would sail to the East Indies and back
And so there at the Cape of Good Hope
ship, master and crew would lose all hope
as Captain Hendrick stood on deck at the wheel
and cursed the wind…
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The Great Coronavirus
March 13, 2020 at 10:22 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Poetry, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (Coronavirus, The Coronavirus)
The Great Coronavirus
Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster was in his aquarium at Set Enterprises Laboratories when he had a dream of the Coronavirus wearing a top hat and tuxedo and black dress pants and carrying a walking stick appearing on stage in a theatre and singing and dancing while a searchlight followed him around in the darkened auditorium.
The Coronavirus singing a song entitled The Great Coronavirus (to the tune and melody of The Platters song The Great Pretender):
Oh yes, I’m the Great Coronavirus
No one knows where I come from
Maybe from a bat
Or possibly a cat
in a market in old Wuhan.
Oh yes, I’m the Great Coronavirus
I caused the great Xi
To send the Army
And lock down all of Hubei
Minus Huawei’s WiFi.
Oh yes, I’m the Great Coronavirus
Next was a cult in Korea
A False Messiah’s panacea
leading to more Trump verbal diarrhea
And possible Kim Jong-un gonorrhea
Oh yes, I’m the Great Coronavirus
Next was Iran
Ayatollah’s kick of the can
Its leadership dropped like flies
to a Mullah’s lullabies
lick a Qom shrine like gravied French fries
Oh yes, I’m the Great Coronavirus
Next was Italy
another lock down you see
No mobility
dwindling liberty
And Francis’ papacy
Gates of Hell is the Key
Oh yes, I’m the Great Coronavirus
Next was the Land of The Free
Trump shrugged it off constantly
Maybe one death, two or three
And now it’s national emergency
With toilet paper for those with no place to pee
Who is behind this plague
Named after a beer keg?
Was it Bill Gates?
Or PLA greats?
Is it real?
A true real deal
Or just plain hysteria?
Driven to just scare ya
Into the arms of a nefaria
Called the NWO
Since God is man’s foe
You have no place to go
You evolved from the sea
Says Darwin’s alchemy
Virus thou art
And to virus thou will go
Social distancing as we all depart.
-A poem, song and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday March 13th
2020.
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