Just Another Day In Paradise

April 11, 2021 at 10:21 pm (Detective story, Film, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, Mystery, News, Poetry, Politics, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

“I didn’t expect you to be back so soon,” the woman smiled at Carson Cody Albion Private Eye as she sat on the stairs leading up to his apartment.

The year was 1950.
“Do I know you?”
Albion inquired
After the woman greeted him on the stairs.

“Sadly, we’ve never met before,” the woman continued to smile at him.
“Are you a widow?” Albion asked her, “I notice you’re wearing a black dress and a black veil.”
“I am wearing what you say,” she continued to smile, “But I’m also wearing white flowers in my hair.”
“And wearing a smile,” Albion noted.
“That too,” the woman laughed.
“So you’re not a recent widow?” Albion asked.
“I am a recent widow,” the woman nodded, “but only in the stage play I’m acting in. I murdered my husband. I am a villainess… in the play.”

“Oh,” was Albion’s response as he rolled himself a cigarette.
“I walked direcly from the playhouse to here without stopping to change,” the woman explained.
“And who are you in real life?” Albion asked.
“My name is Sherrielock Holmes,” the woman answered.
“The name sounds familiar,” Albion lit his cigarette.
“Sherlock Holmes was my twin brother,” the woman lifted her veil and accepted a cigarette from Albion.
“But he’s dead and he’d be almost 100 if he was alive and…” Albion did not finish the sentence.
“I’m alive and I’m immortal,” the woman accepted a light.
“That explains everything,” Albion blew out the match.

“It does,” Sherrielock smiled.
“Do you wish to hire me?” Albion sat on a step below her.
“I do,” Sherrielock smiled.
“For what purpose?” Albion wanted to know.
“To investigate Richard M. Nixon,” Sherrielock answered.
“The presumed Republican Party candidate for U.S. Senator from California this year?” Albion took a bottle of bourbon from his coat pocket and took a sip.
“Yes,” Sherrielock nodded.
“Why?” Albion wanted to know.
“To see why Mei-ling Manchu is interested in him,” Sherrielock raised the hem of her skirt.
“Mei-ling Manchu?” Albion blew smoke rings.
“She’s a vampiress and a member of the CCP,” Sherrielock stated.
“CCP?” Albion was quizzical.
“Chinese Communist Party,” Sherrielock smiled, “Not Coca-Cola Playtime.”
“That’s good,” Albion raised his fedora, “Because I hear Nixon drinks Pepsi.”
“And here I was going to offer Tahiti Treat,” Sherrielock laughed.
“What’s Tahiti Treat?” Albion wasn’t familiar with that beverage.

“Well,” Sherrielock spoke breathlessly, “Why don’t we go up to your apartment and I’ll show you?”.
“Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse,” said Albion.

A young actor named Marlon Brando cast a glance up the stairwell.

Now there was a line he’d like to be able to use someday or a line like it.

-A Carson Cody Albion narrative poem
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday April 11th
2021.

Permalink 4 Comments

An Intersection of Time

April 10, 2021 at 10:58 pm (Vampire novel, Poetry, The Supernatural, Movies, Music, Ghost Story, Romance, Film, love) (, , , , )

The year was 1929.
The bride was waiting for the wedding to begin.
She looked behind her.
And noticed one of the candles had burnt out.
Was this an omen she wondered?
Was she making the right decision?
Was her life about to become like that burnt out candle?

2021.
Amadeus Emanon was standing on the stage of an empty nightclub.
The nightclub was closed due to Boris Johnson’s lockdown.
But Amadeus felt at his best when performing on a stage.
He may not be able to sing to people in the club.
But he felt he was able to sing to ghosts.
The ghosts of the past.
The ghosts of the present.
And the ghosts of the future.

The ghosts of the present.
People alone and isolated.
And fading away
Under an iron curtain
That had descended all across the globe.

The ghosts of the future
If there was a future
Those whose anguished cries could not reach the present
As the darkness fell
And everything was void
and waiting for that moment
Of the spoken Word,
“Let there be light.”

Ghosts of the past.
In a distant theatre box
Amadeus saw a woman in silhoutte
A bride
Looking back at a burnt out candle
Silent
Apprehensive
As if she was looking at an omen.

Amadeus began to sing
And sang to the woman
To the bride…

Moon River, wider than a mile
I’m crossing you in style someday
Oh dream maker
You heartbreaker
Where ever you’re going I’m going your way
Two drifters off to see the world
There’s such a lot of world to see
We’re after the same rainbow’s end
Waiting round the bend
My huckleberry friend
Moon River and me.

Amadeus lowered his head
The song was finished
The spot light was fading
And it was as if the singer
Was waiting for the applause

That never came.

The bride listened
She had never heard the song
And probably would not again
Unless on some far off 1961 morning
She had breakfast at Tiffany’s

But the song gave her courage
And inspired her to walk down the aisle
And grasp the hand of her love
Her huckleberry friend
Two drifters off to see the world
Because
there’s such a lot of world to see

The moon came through
Shining through the stained glass window
Depicting the Jordan River
And at this nighttime service
It shone brightly
On the spot
Where the one candle had burnt out

In the far off distance
Amadeus’ voice carried through time,
“Moon River and thee.”

-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday April 10th
2021.

Permalink 6 Comments

Michelangelo’s Dream of Bogey and Bacall

March 27, 2021 at 10:34 pm (Detective story, Entertainment, Film, History, Humour, Poetry, Romance, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster had a dream where he was playing Humphrey Bogart’s character of Philip Marlowe and having an encounter with Lauren Bacall.

After waking up, he decided to write a narrative poem about his dream.

He went over to his waterproof laptop to start writing but then decided to use his recently bought old vintage Underwood typewriter that had been custom refurbished to work underwater.

Grabbing some waterproof sheets of paper, he inserted them into his waterproof old vintage Underwood typewriter and started typing the poem.

Bogey and Bacall: Philip Marlowe’s Right On The Ball
A narrative poem
By Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster
Narrated in the First Person
By Philip Marlowe
(As played by Humphrey Bogart)

So I had come home after a hard day on the case
Rather difficult to try to sleep on a case of bourbon
I did do some work on that other case
Trying to find Max Spellbein’s younger daughter
Where do younger daughters hang out these days anyways?

I went down to Frankie’s Jazz Cafe
The Pink Flamingo Lounge
And even The Silverstar Nightclub
Nothing.
No sign of her.

I even went down to the bus depot and the shipyard
Her ship must have sailed when my bus came in
Does that make any sense?
Probably not.
Difficult to make sense
When one’s mind is adrift
In a sea of bourbon.

I lit a cigarette
Put it in my mouth
And made a silent prayer
That this combination of alcohol and flame
Didn’t send me up like a rocket on New Year’s Eve.

I thought I heard piano music coming from my piano
Which was strange
I rarely play the piano these days
Not since I got my fingers caught in that mousetrap
Under the altar of Saint Ignatius’ Church
When I said to the good priest,
“Pray it again, Sam.”

After sitting in my chair
Looking up at the ceiling
And watching the paint dry
It suddenly hit me
That I hadn’t painted this place in ages
So there was no drying paint to watch

That was definitely music I was hearing
So either someone was playing the piano
Or the angels were calling me

So I walked into the piano room
And there at the piano
Sat Max Spellbein’s elder daughter

Lauren Bacall: Playing the piano and singing, “When smoke gets in your eyes…”

I stood there
Inhaled the air from the open window
And realized I wouldn’t be spending the night alone.

-A narrative poem
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday March 27th
2021.

Permalink 8 Comments

Sherrielock Holmes and Mr. Truffles

March 20, 2021 at 10:06 pm (Comedy, Entertainment, Geopolitics and International Relations, Humour, International Intrigue, News, Poetry, Vampire novel) (, , , )

Sherrielock Holmes and Mr. Truffles

It was the very first day of spring
Outside her Baker Street apartment
The birds did sing

In front of her bookshelf Sherrielock Holmes did perch
An hour after applying to Boris Johnson’s behind
A firm use of the birch

She was sitting next to Mr. Truffles
Who looked very dapper today
And not a walking ad for Ruffles

They would soon walk out into the London street
She the epitome of grace upon her feet
And the orange tabby looking very neat

A sneak preview of an Easter parade
Had not Euro governments given that feast
A failing grade

Easter was not in the best laid plans
Of genetic splice and men
Bill Gates wanted people in the lions’ den

Nero at the Colosseum may have played the fiddle
Nancy Pelosi’s bladder leaks pad underestimated her piddle
But for Soros, Gates and Xi- they gave not a diddle

So much of humanity had to go
At the dawn of this Malthusian eugenics show
The Great Reset must go with the flow

But Sherrielock Holmes and Mr. Truffles
Plan to beat zombie nosferatu overlords at their game
Giving this unique duo in history everlasting fame.

-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday March 20th
2021.

Permalink 10 Comments

When Greek Temples Stood

February 10, 2021 at 11:28 pm (Arts, Culture, Mythology, Poetry) (, )

There was a time
When Greek temples stood
In pristine
And newly built condition

When mighty pillars held up the temple top
And statues at the top
A goddess on either side
Of mighty Atlas who holds up the roof
In the same way he carried
The weight of the world
On his shoulders

There was a time
When statues
Of nymphs, imps and swans
Were fountains
Spraying forth
Warm blue water
Into warm pools of blue
Mediterranean blue
And one could bathe
In warm blue pool waters
And turning skyward
From the pool
One could see Astraeus
The god of dusk
Painting a golden farewell
To day
In the sky

There was a time
When Greek temples stood
In pristine
And newly built condition

Now is not that time

-A poem written by Christopher
Wednesday February 10th 2021.

Permalink 10 Comments

Purr-lock Holmes The Purr-fect Detective

February 7, 2021 at 11:14 pm (Detective story, Entertainment, Humour, Poetry) (, )

Purr-lock Holmes the Purr-fect Detective

He was Purr-lock Holmes the purr-fect detective
His reasoning was definitely not defective
With a meow here and a meow there
His magnifying glass looked everywhere
He was hot on the trail
With a flash of his tail
Les-trod of Barnyard Yard could not keep up
And he was often left holding the cup

Doctor Barksome was a cocker spaniel
Whose name wasn’t mentioned in the Book of Daniel
He was Purr-lock’s chronicler and sidekick
Who often gave his paw a lick

And Purr-lock’s most frightening case
Whose tale when told gives one’s heart a race
Was the Hound of the Basket-villes
Whose mere mention gave one the chills
And made one forget to take Dodd’s Kidney Pills

The Hound of the Basket-villes terrorized the countryside
And Inspector Les-trod wasn’t taking it in stride
Purr-lock Holmes was called in on the case
Thus with trusty pipe in place
Firmly in mouth on his face
Purr-lock set out on the trail
Travelling by train on the rail

He arrived near the manor of Basket-ville Hall
Where it seemed that his fur was starting to crawl
So Purr-lock set out on the trail of Hugo Basket-ville
And what he saw hence gave him quite the thrill
For there was Hugo with his mistress so fine
That it made one want to stop and dine

For Hugo’s mistress was Marilyn most fair
When you’ve got her, why chase a hare?
For Hugo was looking for fair flowers to pick
And didn’t know his barking would break the candlestick
Causing rumours to surface of a hound of Old Nick

So the case was solved and the hound was no ghost
And Les-trod’s career was now nothing but toast
Purr-lock and Barksome returned to London
And Hugo was left having nothing but fun-some

-A poem written by Christopher
Sunday February 7th 2021.

Permalink 21 Comments

Haiku About Christopher Plummer RIP

February 5, 2021 at 11:07 pm (Culture, Entertainment, Film, Movies, Poetry) (, )

Christopher Plummer
Now walks where heavenly hills
Sing sound of music

Permalink 22 Comments

The Portrait In The Window

January 25, 2021 at 10:54 pm (Poetry) ()

The portrait in the window
of a woman from long ago
One cannot remember, was she friend or foe?
A woman with checkered past or present
like in an old time Edward G. Robinson/Joan Bennett
1940s movie show?

Did she want to be painted?
A sinner wishing to be sainted?
Or was the painting already done?
As from foul murder she did run?

Or have all the different images of time
been mixed up in the dark room of one’s mind
Those who were bad seem good
And those who were good seem bad
Which ones remain eternal?
And which one just a passing fad?

And from the chaos of the present
Longing for an age more pleasant
A memory surfaces like a continent rising from the deep
No Atlantis or Lemuria at which fallen angels do weep
But a face, a voice, a laugh, a tilt of the head, a twist of curl
Nicole was her name and how I wished she was my girl.

-A poem written by Christopher
Monday January 25th 2021.

Permalink 12 Comments

Pandora and The Cobblerish Coblynau

January 18, 2021 at 11:58 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, Poetry, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )


Pandora was an actress
An immortal Greek actress
Once pursued by Zeus
She pretended to be impressed by Zeus’ charms
In order that she could steal some ambrosia
And make herself immortal in the process.

But she never gave herself to Zeus
In the way Zeus would have wanted
Being the horny old philandering Olympian
That he was.

The result?
Zeus besmirched her good name
Telling the Greek poet Hesiod (750 to 650 BC)
That Pandora by opening a jar
Had loosed all manners of evil
Upon the world
Pandora’s jar would later become Pandora’s box
In the western collective unconsciousness
After the Renaissance writer Erasmus
In a night of overindulgence in fine Italian wine
Had mistranslated jar as box
In his setting forth down of the tale
The next morning
When the sun rose
And the cock outside his window
Decided to sing all the Baroque musical hit songs
of Christendom all in one setting

Fortunately Erasmus never lived to see
The writing of Eleanor Rigby
Otherwise we might all think
That Eleanor Rigby
Kept her face
In a box
By the door

Pandora had heard that Charles Laughton and Vincent Price
Were making a movie down in Mexica
So she had gone there
In the Year of Our Lord 1949
And on this night
She stood alongside a piano
In an elegant Mexican cantina

Behind her was a statue of the Greek god Dionysus
Carrying some exotic fruits on his head
(Fruits that would later corrupt a promising young writer
Truman Capote)
The statue was in fact the real Greek god Dionysus
Who had been turned to stone by a very realistic portrait
painted of Medusa the Gorgon
By the usually abstract surrealist painter Pablo Picasso

On the other side of the piano
Was a violinist who played the violin
And dreamed of being Don Quixote
Next to him was a bass player
Who played the bass
And dreamed of being an ice fisherman

Playing the piano was a Charles Laughton lookalike
Who played the piano
And sang of how his wife had run off with his donkey
Leaving him and the windmill to grind all that wheat
By themselves

Below Pandora on the steps where she stood
Was a guitar player
Who didn’t really play the guitar
But only used the guitar
To cover his erection
Which he got
By looking at Pandora
All the while mumbling,
“Oh my God! Oh my God!”.

On a stool by himself
Where a stool pigeon
Had left his calling card
And playing the flute
Sat a Welsh Coblynau
A gnome native to Wales
His name was Egregious Engelbert

Normally Coblynau hung out in Welsh coal mines
But Engy (which was his nickname)
Had developed an allergy to coal dust
And so became a cobbler
Making fine leather shoes

The Cobblerish Coblynau they called him
Making shoes by night
And shoes by day
Even giving shoes to those
Who couldn’t afford to pay

And so they were here
This eclectic crowd
When a man walked in
A man named Rigby
A man who had once gone up 39 Steps
A man who had once stood on Waterloo Bridge
A man of whom
Could he be bribed?
Could he bought?
Was $10,000
Worth 30 pieces of silver?

Rigby
No relation to Eleanor
Nor had he ever visited Acquitaine
Was now here in the room

Waiting for the evening to begin
And the fireworks to start
Would the Price be right
And just how prickly
Was Carlotta’s Cactus Throne?

-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday January 18th
2021.

Permalink 4 Comments

Morganella Pendragon

January 16, 2021 at 11:55 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic poem, History, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, Poetry, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, )

Near the mists of Avalon
The animals gathered
A highflying eagle
And friendly wolves

In these times
Only the animal kingdom
Has friendly wolves
The human kingdom
Is full of demonic wolf spirits
Particularly those inhabiting
The walls of the Vatican

Elon Musk’s artificial moon looked
Perfectly natural
In this Glastonbury atmosphere


And on this night
Protected by her wolf companions
And watched over by her highflying eagle
Morganella Pendragon
Immortal great-niece of the enchantress Morgan
Stood with cross-bow in hand

She had been taught the art of cross-bow
By Chiron the Centaur
And Cernunnos the Celtic stag god
There were very few cross-bow archers
Better than she

And now she would use her cross-bow
To slay
Those hordes of zombie nosferatu
Who had arisen
In this England’s green and pleasant land
Where the heels of devils walk
On England’s mountains green
And devilish countenance on
England’s once pleasant pastures seen.

-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday January 16th
2020

Permalink 4 Comments

Next page »