Vampire Set Addresses Cleopatra’s Needle: A Poem

April 14, 2019 at 10:45 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic romance, History, International Intrigue, love, Mythology, Poetry, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

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

Advertisements

Permalink 9 Comments

Vampiress Isis Walks The Banks of The Nile

April 11, 2019 at 10:56 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, Poetry, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , )


The Egyptian vampiress Isis walks the banks of the Nile

The Egyptian vampiress Isis walked the Nile
A stroll with her memories
The last time she had been in Egypt
was 101 years ago
When Egyptologist Edgar Lovecraft Ashbury
had opened the tomb of Set
her evil brother and brother-in-law
on Armistice Day 1918
right at 11 AM Greenwich time
When the First World War ended

She had fled to Paris
Where she had once worked
With both the Emperors Napoleon I and III
Set had gone to London
and then to Berlin
where he had watched Hitler’s rise to power
Then he returned to London again
Where he had lived ever since

Isis’ husband Osiris had returned to Earth a few years back
from a planet near the star Sirius
Where he had been placed by a black magic spell
cast by Set
Osiris now lived in Rome
Where he served as a geopolitical advisor to Pope Francis
Just as Allatallahbel the Vampiress Priestess of Baal
Served as Pope Francis’ theological advisor
Along with the 6 remaining members of the Vampiric Knights-Templar

Isis walked along the Nile with her memories
She had heard that Dr. Edgar Lovecraft Ashbury
(Whom Set had turned into a vampire)
Who headed Set’s archaeological team
had recently discovered the tomb of Alexander the Great
But where was Alexander’s tomb she wondered?
Egypt? Iraq? Iran?
Or elsewhere in the Middle East?

She turned away from the Nile
And walked in the opposite direction
towards the desert
She felt certain that Set
would try to bring Alexander back from the dead
And he had just the man to do it-
Dr. Cadbury Rocher

The day had been long
The night was falling
and in the distance
a jackal’s voice was calling

Isis’ Egypt had changed
And changed
And changed
And was about to change again

The purple at the bottom of her white dress
That had touched the banks of the Nile
Symbolized her Queenship
But would she ever become Queen of the Nile
again?

-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday April 11th
2019.

Permalink 18 Comments

Memories of A Summer Day On My Uncle’s Farm: A Poem

April 5, 2019 at 10:05 pm (Poetry) (, , )

Waking in the farm house on a summer day
The crowing of the rooster
The mooing of distant cows
And the glorious sunrise
The magnificent prairie sunrise
Whose rays burst like luminous fairies
Through the beautiful row of trees that faced the east side of the house

Breakfast of bacon and eggs whose aroma
Passed like an incense of delight through the house
After discovering the taste of paradise on the plates
Was an excellent offering to accompany the incense
It was outside in the yard with cousin Bill
And the dogs Trixie and Baldie
Then walking through fields of gold
As the wheat rose from the soil
Like golden arms waving to the sun above

Down to Rosebud Creek which flowed through valleys so green
On the other side of the creek
The remains of a castle
Built by a man called Levi Bone
An eccentric Englishman who came to the Canadian prairie
And decided to build himself a castle
And did so

Before sunset Bill and I would walk the country road that rolled west
From the farm house towards the horizon of the setting sun
And as we walked down hill through valleys so green
The sun would shine its rays on westward hills
above the valley
And fields of gold
would give way to colours of vibrant purple, red and blue
A landscape in truly living colour
that the Creator would paint each night

Those days were truly golden like the fields we walked through
And the rays of the sun that bid its adieu to us on distant hills.

-A poem written by Christopher
Friday April 5th 2019.

Permalink 19 Comments

The Maltese Falcon At Mar-A-Lago: A Poem

April 3, 2019 at 10:46 pm (Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, International Intrigue, Mystery, News, Poetry, Romance, Spy Tales, Technology, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Narrator of poem:

“How are ya, sweetheart?
I’m the ghost of Humphrey Bogart
I was recently challenged by my friend the ghost of Orson Welles
to see if I still got tough guy and private eye skills
that I used to have in my movies.

So I took him up on his challenge and headed down to Florida
The site of one of my popular films Key Largo
I heard about this swanky place down there called Mar-a-Lago
A private Palm Beach, Florida club owned by a temper tantrum throwing
spoiled brat billionaire named Donald Trump
Imagine my surprise when I heard this bozo
was also the President of the United States
The country has certainly gone down hill
since the days of Harry Truman
I figure.

Anyways a Chinese lady spy named Yujing Zhang
was arrested at the club trying to enter it with a
thumb drive containing malware
I had no idea what a thumb drive is
Thought it might be that a car was driven by your thumb
instead of both hands in this day and age
or maybe some newly designed form of golf club
they came up with that quite literally relies on the rule of thumb
And as for malware, I thought it was some guy named Mel Ware
who just might be the uncle of Token Ware
a female character in a Raymond Chandler Philip Marlowe story

I was set straight on the new developments in technology
by the ghosts of eccentric Serb-American inventor Nikola Tesla
and some British guy named Alan Turing
who made a name for himself in mathematics

Anyways it turns out this Yujing Zhang wasn’t the only femme fatale
causing intrigue down at Club Mar-a-Lago
Some woman named Li Cindy Yang is also involved
It turns out she owns a massage parlour
where prostitution is said to be going on
on the premises
One of her arrested johns was a Mr. Robert Kraft
the owner of a football team called The New England Patriots
The case is made even more interesting by the fact
that the team’s quarterback Tom Brady
claims he’s able to win football games
through the help of his wife
Gisele Bundchen
who’s a witch.

The whole thing reminds me of a film my friend Veronica Lake
made back in 1942
called I Married A Witch

So you can imagine my surprise when I walked through the door
of Club Mar-a-Lago
and saw the Maltese Falcon on the table
That old bird that appeared in the film by that title
That I starred in back in 1941

Around the table lay the bodies of various secret service agents
who had been completely drained of blood
A beautiful Chinese woman wearing a white evening dress
stood outside the club dining room window
in the middle of the pouring rain

“That most enchanting and intriguing woman is the Chinese Communist vampiress Mei-ling Manchu,”
The ghost of Orson Welles arrived in the nick of time
sipping a glass of red wine,
“She’s the daughter of Dr. Fu Manchu the famous scientist
whose exploits were written about in the novels of Sax Rohmer”.

“What’s she doing here?” I asked Welles.
Welles smiled, “She’s hidden a bunch of condoms owned by the Knights of Malta
in that Maltese Falcon.
That way when they’re found by law enforcement authorities
who are already on their way over here
The find will prove to be problematic and embarrassing
for both Donald Trump and Pope Francis
And the Chinese government will have killed two birds with one stone.”

“Well, that explains the pair of sunglass wearing dead pink flamingos I passed by on the lawn on the way in then,” I remarked
“Those are actually lawn ornaments knocked over by drunken country club members,” Welles finished his wine.

I noticed Mei-ling Manchu approach a fire-breathing Black Dragon
and crawl on to its back
“Off to Venezuela,” she said, “There to watch the Donald play his final Trump card before we divide this land between ourselves and the Russians.”
She and the Dragon flew off into the night sky

I walked outside to watch the Dragon and the vampiress depart
I looked down at the two pink flamingos and remarked to Welles,
“Well, I suppose the problems of two flamingos don’t amount to a hill of beans in this world.”
Welles lit himself a cigar and remarked, “Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday and soon.”
Some young woman named Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez stood outside the club and waved a document called the Green New Deal.

“Bogey on the 18th hole,” the ghost of Arnold Palmer remarked as he walked by with his golf clubs.

I laughed, patted Welles on the shoulder and said,
“You know, Orson, this could be the start of a beautiful friendship”
As we walked off into the misty greens.

-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday April 3rd
2019.

Permalink 24 Comments

Basil and The Basilisk: A Poem

March 26, 2019 at 10:56 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, Poetry, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Basil was a farmer about his business
He milked the cows
fed the pigs
and gathered eggs of the chickens
But he did not enter the green barn
For the green barn contained a creature
he would have no dealings with.

The green barn was leased by Set Enterprises in London
Whatever experiments in that barn went beyond that sanctioned
by both God and man
Dr. Cadbury Rocher who showed up in a black Jaguar car one day
And then a red Jaguar car the next
And went around saying “The devil is in the details”
Gave Basil the farmer both a medieval bestiary
and the Naturalis Historia of Pliny the Elder
And marked pages saying, “Read, should you feel the inclination
to enter the green barn”

Now Basil’s Latin wasn’t exactly up to snuff
(his wife had cured him of the irritating habit of sticking
tobacco up his nose and then sneezing when they were first married)
but J.K. Rowling occasionally came to the Farmers’ Market in a nearby town to shop
So he asked her to translate from the original Latin

What he heard from Rowling turned his hair on end
He told his wife what he had heard
And both agreed they should never enter the green barn

Not of course they had any inkling to do so before
For a giant rooster in a cage had been taken into the barn
and then a giant snake in a cage
Then the sound of two different species but same genders co-mingling
in the night
While the Baphomet stood outside the barn saying,
“Everything is all right,
We need to open our minds
And cast aside old prejudices”
Pope Francis gave his apostolic blessing
via satellite transmission
and the Mayor of San Francisco said
This was bringing tears to his eyes

One night a man came to the farmhouse door
claiming to be a traveling guru
And asking food and shelter for the night
Basil and Bella agreed.

“There is no God”, the guru assured them with the solemnity of a Richard Dawkins
And then smiled,
“For God is within”
He took some Rolaids tablets for his heartburn
“There is no Devil either,” the guru smiled, “We create our own gods and devils. Good and evil are within us.”
He chewed some Exlax tablets
“And then project those outwards on to our surroundings”
“Where is your washroom?” The guru asked Farmer Basil
for the aftereffects of the externally applied medication
turned out to be fast acting.

“And there are times we are called upon to run like the wind”
The traveling guru remarked as he ran up the stairs

When he came back, he asked, “Where should I sleep?”
“I hope you don’t mind the kitchen floor,” Farmer Basil replied,
“For we only have the one bedroom and my wife and I
just bought the Dracul Van Helsing Guide To Tantric Sex and are looking forward to applying it tonight”
“We just watched MP Renfield R. Renfield on the telly tonight,” Bella smiled, “he was complaining about the fact that Van Helsing had tantric sex with the current heiress to the Queen of Sheba’s throne in Jerusalem last Saturday and then had tantric sex with the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec during a raging sea storm on the Isle of Patmos last night”

“Such astounding declarations make me wonder whether it was right for me to take the path of celibacy,” the guru had temporarily lost his beatific Buddha like smile
“What about the green barn over there?” The guru pointed outside,
“It seems very large. I could sleep there.”

“That is the habitat of the Basilisk,” Basil replied, “a creature of legend and mythology that has been resurrected in the modern world
thanks to the Transhumanist experiments of one Dr. Cadbury Rocher of
Set Enterprises”
“Basilisk?” The guru blinked.
“A serpent king that is a hybrid of a rooster and a serpent” Basil answered
“And like Empire actor Jussie Smollett,” Bella added, “is immune to criminal prosecution since it’s considered politically incorrect to do so.”
Basil went on, “The Basilisk is so venomous, it leaves a wide trail of deadly venom in its wake. And its gaze is likewise lethal.”
“The sort of entity that Bill Clinton would marry but not have an extramarital affair with,” Bella pointed out.

“Well, I ain’t afraid of no Basilisk,” the guru paraphrased a lyric from the theme song to the original 1984 Ghostbusters movie.
Basil and Bella looked at him.
“Like I’ve been trying to tell you, we create our own reality,” the guru said, “Like attracts like. Positive attracts positive. Negative attracts negative. I shall enter the green barn with positive thoughts and no harm shall come to me.”
The guru entered the barn.
There was no noise.

Basil and Bella went back into the farmhouse.
The next morning a Set Enterprises team came out like they did every morning
Dressed like Star Wars Imperial Stormtroopers in their protective suits
They carried out the body of the guru
who had turned to stone
Under the Basilisk’s venemous gaze
(As did creatures under Medusa’s gaze of old)

The Basilisk was obviously not subject to whatever reality
The guru thought he could create
with his own mind.

-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday March 26th
2019.


Bella has gazed on many things but will not gaze on the Basilisk

Permalink 6 Comments

When Cultures Meet: Reflections On Love, War and Conquest – A Short Poem

March 24, 2019 at 10:21 pm (love, Movies, Poetry, Romance) (, , )

War can conquer a man’s body and surroundings
But it is the dance that conquers a man’s heart

Permalink 7 Comments

Haiku About Dostoevsky’s Vision of Future Communism In Russia

March 22, 2019 at 10:11 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, Literature, Philosophy, Poetry, Politics, Religion) (, , , , , , , )

Fire in minds of men
Blood and revolution come
Hell will replace Christ

Permalink 10 Comments

The Debutante’s Ball 1941: A Poem

March 18, 2019 at 10:30 pm (Comedy, Culture, Detective story, Entertainment, Geopolitics and International Relations, Humour, International Intrigue, Mystery, Poetry, Romance, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )


Marissa Van Horne, Debutante

“You’re here to escort me to the ball, Mr. Albion?”
The laughing smiling face of the beautiful young woman
looked at me with merriment and amusement in her sparkling eyes
which glimmered like stars above her sunshine golden gown,
“A famed Los Angeles private eye reduced to a chaperone?”

I, Carson Cody Albion, stopped in my tracks
when I heard this statement
I was a private eye
But I had never thought of myself as famed.

“Don’t be so modest,” Marissa remarked with a wry smile as if she could read my mind, “of course you are!”
“The ball starts at 8 PM?” I queried looking at my watch.
“Yes, but drinks are served starting at 7,” she laughed.
“I don’t think your parents hired me to watch you get inebriated before the ball,” I said as I held open the arms of her fur coat
so she could finish her fashion ensemble for the evening.

Only the LA glitterati rich would wear fur coats
on a hot Los Angeles evening
But as the hired help, what did I know?

“No,” she slid her arms through the coat, “my parents hired you to keep me away from Lev Tomi.”

That was true.
They had.
Titus Van Horne was an influential newspaper editor in the city.
He seemed to know everything about everyone in the state of California
A West Coast J. Edgar Hoover as it were
Minus that DC bureaucrat’s penchant for wearing women’s clothing in private
Which was a good thing for the Van Horne family fortune
For the Paris dresses and gowns that Mrs. Van Horne and daughter Marissa wore
were already keeping the Bank of Monte Carlo afloat
to say nothing of Hitler’s Reich
while the Vichy government were reduced to making money off mineral water
A third Van Horne (and a male one at that) adorning the best of Parisienne feminine apparel
would definitely have put the Van Horne family fortune in the red
like Alger Hiss in the U.S. State Department

Van Horne knew all about Orson Welles’ private life
He had to
For the Boy Wonder of New York radio and theatre
was making a movie based on the life of Van Horne’s boss

But Van Horne knew nothing whatsoever about Lev Tomi
This older man that young Marissa had started seeing at the start of this year
Marissa just claimed that she was taking Russian language lessons from him
Nothing like a LA society girl with a hankering to visit the Soviet Union and see Josef Stalin’s paradise for herself
The movie The Grapes of Wrath had recently been shown in Moscow
Uncle Joe had hoped that this would cause outrage among Moscow’s workers
when they saw how the poor in America were treated
It caused outrage all right
but not in the way that Uncle Joe had hoped
Moscow workers had become outraged that the poor in America actually owned their own trucks
Viewings of the movie soon became obsolete in the USSR
Joining the obsolescence of most personally owned motor vehicles among the common people there

When Marissa came home and told her parents
that she had asked Lev Tomi to be her date
to the LA society’s debutante ball
Titus Van Horne finally put his foot down
causing him to be rushed to LA General Hospital
to get his now even deeper ingrown toe nail surgically removed

After a week of recuperation, Titus Van Horne and his wife Olivia came to see me
And asked me to be Marissa’s escort to the debutante’s ball
Since I had nothing pressing on me at the moment
Save some old white shirts that needed to be steampressed at the neighbourhood’s Chinese laundry
I took the case.


Olivia and Titus Van Horne asked Carson Cody Albion Private Eye to be their daughter Marissa’s escort to the LA society elite debutante’s ball

As I got into the back of the limousine with Marissa
I instructed the chauffeur to drive us to Ming Lo’s Blue Lantern Restaurant
I figured imbibing Marissa with a light Chinese dinner at 7
would far be safer than imbibing her with drinks prior to the ball

I turned out to be wrong on that
It must have been the spicy chop suey
that was the Blue Lantern special
It turned Marissa into a tigress in heat
And I was explorer Frank Buck
Bringing her back alive

It was now 11 PM
I had failed to present Miss Van Horne to the debutante’s ball by some 3 hours
Her beautiful gold dress lying on the seat of the booth along with her nylons and spiked stilettos
And all my clothes lying on the floor underneath the table
Implied a very unusual Russian language lesson was going on
when coincidentally Mr. and Mrs. Van Horne entered the restaurant right at 11 PM

I felt no inclination to open my fortune cookie which the waiter just brought
If it was accurate, I knew well what it would say
You can send me my cheque in the mail for my services
I hastily said to Mr. Van Horne before heading out into the night
like a stallion galloping out into the Santa Ana winds

I had no idea who this Lev Tomi fellow was
But I think I may have just saved his life
Too bad, I can’t say the same for my own.

-Carson Cody Albion Private Eye

-A Carson Cody Albion
Private Eye poem
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday March 18th
2018

Permalink 13 Comments

Yaldabaoth On Saint Patrick’s Day

March 17, 2019 at 10:55 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Life, love, News, Poetry, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , )

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.

Permalink Leave a Comment

The Siren of The Sea Plays A Sweet Melody: A Poem

March 13, 2019 at 10:16 pm (Art, Arts, Culture, Literature, love, Poetry, Romance, The Supernatural) (, , )


A Sea Spell 1877 by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

A great beauty was she
The Siren of the Sea
who played sweet melody

Her fingers played softly each tender string
And with melodious voice she did sing
Birds of the sea flew to hear her
Sailors landed on rocks just to be near her
So tenderly tenderly she played the cords of the lute
while caught in her long flowing hair was forbidden fruit
A garland of flowers adorned her head like a sacred crown
Luminosity shone like the sun off her golden gown

Oh divine beauty, how can it be?
I’m here with you, you’re here with me
when music plays like golden rays
And with tender eyes you gaze
Then on your lap, I’d gladly lie
as the sea waves dance to the seagull’s cry.

-A poem written by Christopher
Wednesday March 13th 2019.

Permalink 13 Comments

Next page »