The Cosmic Origins of P.H. Lovecat

February 4, 2019 at 11:56 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, History, International Intrigue, Music, Mystery, Mythology, News, Politics, Spy Tales, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

His name was Peter Hieronymous Felinedamour.

P. H. Felinedamour for short.

He was an artist.

An artist inspired by the writings of H.P. Lovecraft.

Many Lovecraftian entities showed up in his paintings.

And in the art show that Dashwood Forrest (the Oscar Wilde admiring owner of the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in London) would be opening tonight in his gallery, the last painting that Peter Hieronymous Felinedamour ever painted – from December 21st 2012 (the same night that he disappeared) – would be on pre-eminent display in the middle of the gallery for this art show.

Dashwood Forrest was currently showing the painting to British MP Renfield R. Renfield and his date for this evening Lepardia Marango the cultural attache at the South African Embassy in London.

Renfield was bringing Lepardia to the gallery as a way of saying thanks to the cultural attache for saving the Transhumanist MP’s life this past weekend.

Lepardia had stopped an assasination attempt on Renfield by wrestling to the ground the Russian vampiress and FSB operative Svetlana Kireeva.

The incident occurred in the final match of a darts tournament being held at the Clytemnestra’s Revenge and Agamemnon’s Bathtub Pub and Beef House.

The wrestling match between mortal woman and immortal (unless staked through the heart) vampiress caused Renfield to lose the tournament by wrecking his final throw.

Svetlana had intended to assasinate Renfield by firing a poison dart at him with an Amazon tribesman’s blow gun.

Instead the dart hit the left foot of the American Jesuit priest Father Neville Barack Chamberlain (who was theological advisor to New York Cardinal Timothy Dolan advising His Eminence on how to take a firm stand on the most pressing doctrinal and moral issues of the day) causing a paralysis in the priest’s right testicle in an example of acupuncture and chi energy gone horribly wrong.

Lepardia and Renfield gazed at the P.H. Felinedamour painting entitled

Artemis, Cthulhu, Diana’s Sacred Deer and Hecate’s Familiar Black Cat With Clytemnestra Holding A Net and Agamemnon Screaming In The Nude In The Background.

“So that was the last painting he ever painted?” Renfield asked the London art gallery owner as he downed a reddish pink with shades of China blue shooter called Vincent Van Gogh’s Missing Ear.

Ariana Grande walked by in a slit skirted evening dress that prominently displayed her new “Barbecue Grill Finger” (in Japanese lettering) tattoo.

The singer was eating Honey Dipped Chicken Fingers from McDonalds.

No doubt Bill Clinton and the Rev. Jesse Jackson would have loved to have been flies on the wall (or even better, flies on the floor) as the lovely Miss Grande walked by.

“That is correct,” Forrest bowed to Renfield as Renfield crushed and killed a pair of flies on the floor with his right shoe.

Forrest’s personal secretary arrived on the scene to inform the Oscar Wilde lookalike London art gallery owner that his living dead Irish manservant and valet Mulligan the Irish zombie had just accidentally spilled barbecued chicken wings hors d’oeuvres down the evening dress of British Prime Minister Theresa May.

“Excuse me,” Forrest whispered to Renfield and Lepardia as his face turned as pale as the portrait of Dorian Gray and he rushed in the direction of the catastrophe.

To be continued.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday February 4th
2019.


Ariana Grande: Showing off her “Barbecue Grill Finger” (in Japanese lettering) tattoo at the P.H. Lovecat (Felinedamour) Art Show.

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Asmodeus’ Advice To Loki

November 16, 2018 at 11:57 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

The Norse trickster god Loki had been told by Ares the Greek god of war that Zeus was now expecting a night of lovemaking with Ariana Grande as part of a deal for releasing the Kraken.

Loki went about making arrangements for this and discovered to his horror that Ariana Grande was being protected by Saint Raphael the Archangel.

The demon Asmodeus had told Loki over cigarettes and Irish Coffee that Raphael was one tough cookie.

That centuries ago, after Asmodeus had been causing problems for a young Hebrew maiden named Sarah, Raphael had captured Asmodeus in Upper Egypt and bound him.

It was an experience that Asmodeus wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy the cigarette smoking demon said as an exorcist walked through the door.

Asmodeus picked up his hat and coat, thanked Loki for a lovely evening and left sticking the Norse trickster god with paying the bill.

Loki decided he better not risk taking the horny Greek Olympian god Zeus to Ariana’s place if Raphael was around.

Instead Loki contacted Allatallahbel the Vampiress Priestess of Baal (who was a friend of the bar tab evading Asmodeus) and asked what he should do.

Allatallahbel suggested getting Zeus drunk on shots of tequila and then bring him around to her apartment in the Vatican to make out with her Allatallahbel.

She’d tell him that she was Ariana Grande.

So one fine November night, Loki got Zeus loaded on shots of tequila in a Rome taverna.

With Zeus three sheets to the wind and a huge windstorm pounding the Eternal City, Loki led the Olympian to Allatallahbel’s apartment in the Vatican.

Zeus entered her bedroom and noticed Allatallahbel lying face down one sheet to the wind as the window was open.

“My what lovely tattos you have, my dear,” Zeus drooled like Cerberus after a night on the town.

“The better to impress Bill Clinton and Jessie Jackson with, my dear,” Allatallahbel replied.

Soon Zeus and Allatallahbel were making out.

Pope Francis walked into the room.

“Jesus Christ!” said the pontiff.

“Not quite,” Zeus replied, “The name is Zeus. Jupiter Zeus.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday November 16th
2018.

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“Release The Kraken!” – Zeus’ Final Command

November 13, 2018 at 11:57 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

As Ares the Greek god of war, Thor the Norse god of thunder and Morrigan the Celtic goddess of war sat around drinking Quetzalcoatl tequila shots (with giant worms in them) and wondering how to start the next global world war, the Norse trickster god Loki came along selling NRA memberships, Donald Trump Is The New Messiah t-shirts and also Nancy Pelosi For Speaker of The House buttons (as a trickster, he had all bases covered).

As soon as he found out the causes of their glumness and their sobriety challenged condition, he suggested they get Zeus to “Release the Kraken!”.

That should start a world war.

“How can we get Zeus to release the Kraken?” Morrigan giggled as she fantasized about making out with James Spader as Raymond Red Reddington and making out with him on a king sized waterbed under a painted ceiling mural of the sinking of the Titanic.

“I happen to know the horny Olympian who likes to carry lightning bolts in his pockets wants to make out with singer Ariana Grande,” Loki had hacked into Zeus’ internet search images on his Mount Olympus iCloud, “so promise him a fling with Ariana Grande if he releases the Kraken.”


One of the many images of singer Ariana Grande that the Greek Olympian god Zeus has on his Mount Olympus iCloud.

The trio thought this was a good idea.

Ares went to see Zeus with the proposal.

Zeus (making sure he was out of earshot of Hera) agreed.

He sent Hermes and Dionysus to go release the Kraken.

Zeus’ kraken named Scion of Apollyon was being kept at a secure aquarium facility (designed and engineered by Dr. Cadbury Rocher) at the Set Enterprises laboratories at Canary Wharf on the Thames River in London.

Hermes in a Haida canoe and Dionysus in an Inuit kayak went rowing down the Thames River singing, “Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream, merrily, merrily, merrily mare, life is but a dream…”

Both had spent the previous evening heavily imbibing Dionysus’ homemade bootleg fermented nectar.

As they reached Canary Wharf, Hermes got easily out of his canoe and stepped on to the pier.

Dionysus, who was not only short and bald and heavily bearded but also extremely pudgy and overweight (rumour had it that he was the biological father of numerous Calgary white women after he had evening serenaded drunken walruses along the Bow and Elbow Rivers), had a great deal more difficulty trying to maneuver his way out of the closed compartment cover of his kayak.

In fact the short, bald, heavily bearded, pudgy and overweight deity became hopelessly stuck.

As he blew his antique 19th Century Sherlock Holmes and Inspector Lestrade personally autographed Police Call Help whistle to summon lovely water nymphs from the Thames River to come rescue him, the ghost of Friedrich Nietzsche (whom Hades had recently granted a dispensational furlough to) stood on the pier and repeated the last words he had spoken on his deathbed, “It’s Dionysus vs. Christ. Don’t you understand?”.

As the Thames River lovely water nymphs used chainsaws to cut the kayak open to get the vastly overweight Dionysus out, the ghost of Wild West sheriff Wild Bill Hickok who had been an avid gambler and poker player in his earthly life (and had also been granted a dispensational furlough by Hades to briefly leave the Underworld realm), remarked to Nietzsche, “I think I’d put my money on Christ.”

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re so much better looking than the fat cow walruses along the Bow River in Calgary?” Dionysus told the lovely Thames River water nymphs as they carried him on to the pier.

Julius the genetically created hybrid T-Rex giraffe with the body and neck of a giraffe and the head of a T-Rex who served as the Set Enterprises guard watch dog had once again got his head stuck in the window trying to peer into Sherrielock Holmes’ Set Enterprises office to stare at her leather micro mini skirted and black silk fishnet pantyhose clad legs and so was unable to stop the two intruder Greek deities.

Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster was about to raise the alarm in his own glass aquarium about two intruding Greek deities in the building when peering through the enormous hole in the adjacent wall caused by Julius the hybrid T-Rex giraffe trying to get his head out of his predicament, the lobster happened to catch a glimpse of Sherrielock Holmes in her mini skirt and pantyhose.

Michelangelo’s lobster tank exploded and both water and lobster wound up on the lab floor.

As both Set Enterprises’ maintenance and security arrived on the scene for a mop up operation, the two Greek deities went to the lab where Zeus’ kraken Scion of Apollyon was located.

They released the Kraken as Zeus’ voice thundered through on Hermes’ Huawei smart phone, “Release the Kraken!”.

The Kraken escaped and promptly divided into 2 krakens.

One headed in the direction of Baltimore, Maryland where the U.S. Catholic Bishops were holding a conference.

The U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops had just caved in to Pope Francis’ Josef Stalinesque directive that the topic of priestly and clerical sex abuse must not be on the agenda at their meeting.

The other kraken headed in the direction of the Gaza Strip on the eastern Mediterranean as the possibility of war between Israel and Hamas loomed.

Donald Trump in the meantime had just issued a Twitter tweet that the world was a “lot safer and more secure” with him as President of the United States.

A sure sign that doom was on its way.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday November 13th
2018.

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A Renfieldian Haiku For Ariana Grande

October 17, 2018 at 10:50 pm (Arts, Literature, Poetry, Romance, Vampire novel) (, , )

A Renfieldian Haiku For Ariana Grande

“What are you looking so pleased about?” Amadeus Emanon asked his friend Renfield R. Renfield MP.

“Ariana Grande broke up with her boyfriend Pete Davidson,” Renfield grinned from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat, “so now I’ll be able to ask her out on a date.”

“Didn’t she call you a pervert the last time you talked to her on the phone?” Amadeus asked.

“She did,” Renfield nodded, “but I’m willing to let bygones be bygones. I’ve written her a haiku.”

Renfield’s Haiku For Ariana Grande

Dear Ariana
Your breasts are quite safe with me
Love from your Renfield

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday October 17th
2018.

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The Ariana Grande Concert Tickets: To Bill’s Or Not To Bill’s?

September 2, 2018 at 11:53 pm (Commentary, Culture, Fashion, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Music, News, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , )

The Ariana Grande Concert Tickets: To Bill’s Or Not To Bill’s?

Former U. S. President Bill Clinton saw the hostile look on Hillary’s face.

Oh God, what had he done now?

At that moment, Bill wished he had a wash cloth to wipe the stain off his blue trousers.

“I was going through the desk drawer when I noticed these tickets to an Ariana Grande concert,” Hillary seethed, “did you buy them?”.

“Oh, they may have been a gift from somebody,” Bill put his finger on his nose, “I didn’t know what they were.”

“Oh really?” Hillary smirked sarcastically, “I noticed you couldn’t keep your eyes off Ariana Grande’s short skirted ass when she sang (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman at Aretha Franklin’s funeral this past Friday.”

Bill was thinking to himself that Bishop Charles H. Ellis III was certainly feeling himself a natural woman that day and envied the pastor.

The former President’s thoughts returned to the screeching voice that seemed to be unnatural to this world.

He quickly put the Taco Bell burrito 🌯 he had been eating back in his pocket.

“Well, what about it?” Hillary’s voice sounded like fingernails scraping on a blackboard, “The whole world noticed how you were ogling Ariana Grande’s skirted ass at Aretha’s funeral.”

“I did not have my eyes ogling at that woman’s skirted ass,” Bill protested, “I was just enjoying her performance.”

“Oh, is that what you call it?” Hillary smirked again,” “I was watching you . I noticed you couldn’t keep your eyes off her ass the whole time.”

“You make me sound like that rising new British MP Renfield R. Renfield,” Bill protested, “Most unfair is that comparison.

Renfield would most undoubtedly agree.

“And what about the date on these Ariana Grande concert tickets?” Hillary asked, “I noticed they’re for the same night that you said you couldn’t accompany me to the Illuminati Deep State Conspirators’ Club dinner meeting. You told me something else had come up. Is this what came up?”.

Hillary waved the concert tickets at him.

“Of course not,” Bill felt his nose again.

“What was it you had to attend that night then?” Hillary asked.

“I can’t remember,” Bill answered.

“You can’t remember?” Hillary chortled like an owl in a hurricane, “and what about having your eyes on Ariana’s ass the whole time she was singing last Friday?”.

“That’s not true,” Bill protested, “at one point, I exchanged words with Rev. Jesse Jackson.”

“I imagine you two were probably exchanging lustful fantasies with one another,” Hillary seethed.

“That’s not true,” Bill felt his nose again.

Meanwhile at Rev. Jesse Jackson’s house, the good minister was trying to explain to his wife the tickets to the Ariana Grande concert she had just found in his coat pocket (coincidentally for the same night as the date on the concert tickets that Hillary had found).

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday September 2nd
2018.


What would probably have been Bill and Jesse’s favourite view if they had attended the Ariana Grande concert.
And if the night had turned out the way Jesse wanted, would Bill have spent the rest of the evening singing that old 1980s Rick Springfield song, “I wish that I had Jessie’s girl…”?

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Election Analysis of Welsh Vampiress Morgana’s Election Victory

June 10, 2017 at 3:44 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Politics, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , )

Renfield R. Renfield was spending his Saturday in the kitchen of the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set’s colossal London mansion celebrating his past Thursday’s election victory having been elected Member of Parliament for the Tewkesbury In The Cotswolds Constituency (a constituency he had only chose to run in because its then MP Agathor Christie of the Conservatives had dared to appear in an Internet photo with Renfield’s personal dominatrix Sherrielock Holmes the night before British Prime Minister Theresa May called the surprise UK election).

“Yes, quite often those embarrassing Internet photos can end a politician’s political career,” Amadeus Emanon remarked while thinking sympathetically about Agathor Christie’s humiliating electoral loss of over 17,000 votes to Renfield.

“Running in the constituency of Tewkesbury In The Cotswolds was the best political decision I ever made,” Renfield grinned seeing as how he only got 1 vote running as a Transhumanist candidate in the constituency of London-Collingwood Hills (where Set’s colossal London mansion was located) in the 2015 UK General Election and had received 0 votes running as an Independent, a Democrat and a Republican in last year’s U.S. Presidential election.

“Don’t be so smug,” Amadeus commented as he ate his pigeon pie, “if ISIS hadn’t launched terrorist attacks on Manchester and London, you’d never have been elected. Something Allah will no doubt tell the attackers as He sends them straight to Hell, do not pass Go, do not receive a Get Out of Hell Free Card and Do Not Collect 72 Dark-Eyed Virgins.”

“Wow, that’s a pretty brilliant and profound statement coming from you, Amadeus,” Renfield was impressed.

“Thanks,” Amadeus drank his Coca-Cola.

“I wonder how the Welsh Vampiress Morgana managed to win her seat in the Welsh constituency of Newbridge defeating longtime incumbent Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley by over 300 votes,” Renfield mused aloud.

“According to political analysts in most newspapers,” Amadeus ate his grilled cheese sandwich, “it was probably the photo of her appearing live on stage with Ariana Grande at the One Love Manchester concert that sealed her election victory.”

“What?” Renfield turned red with rage and apoplexy, “how come Ariana Grande posed for a photo with the Welsh Vampiress Morgana but Ariana Grande wouldn’t pose for a photo with me?”.

“Probably because you’re a jackass and the Welsh Vampiress Morgana isn’t,” Amadeus answered.

“Thank you for your blunt honesty, Amadeus,” Renfield remarked sarcastically.

“You’re welcome,” said Amadeus not bothering to take note of the sarcasm.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday June 10th
2017.

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Renfield’s Attack On ISIS Camp In Libya

June 6, 2017 at 5:15 pm (Espionage, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, News, Politics, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

Despite the fact that Britain’s 3 main political parties the Conservatives, Labour and the Liberal Democrats had suspended their campaigns in the wake of the recent London terrorist attack, Renfield R. Renfield was boldly going ahead with his British Transhumanist Techno-Progressive Anti Bio-Conservative Party campaign in the constituency of Tewkesbury In The Cotswolds.- he was boldly going where no British politician had gone before.

He had phoned Ariana Grande after the One Love Manchester concert and asked if she’d appear in a photo-op with him which he’d put on his campaign pamphlets that he’d distribute in his constituency in the days leading up to the election.

“Who is this?” Ariana had asked on the phone after Renfield had described his definitely in poor taste photo-op he had planned to help benefit his political career.

“Renfield R. Renfield,” Renfield had replied.

“You pervert,” said Ariana and she immediately disconnected the call.

Renfield was silent for a moment.

“Oh well, at least she’s obviously heard of me,” Renfield put his smart phone back in his jacket vest pocket.

Renfield then decided to call in members of the British Brigade of Gurkhas to stage a raid on an ISIS training camp in Libya.

The Gurkhas are soldiers of Nepalese nationality.

The Brigade of Gurkhas celebrated 200 years of service in the British Army in 2015.

The Gurkhas are ferocious fearless fighters.

They are associated with the khukuri a Nepalese knife with an inwardly curved blade that is used as both a tool and a weapon in Nepal.

The Gurkhas are human equivalents of stealth fighters who are able to move both silently and invisibly during the night.

Lots of German soldiers in both World Wars I and II found themselves lying dead in their tents in the morning after their throats were slashed by the Gurkhas who had snuck into their camps and snuck out again.

Renfield recalled Dracul Van Helsing talking about a British Army friend of his father who one night in the Second World War woke up in his sleep and found someone feeling his shoelaces (British Army soldiers were instructed to sleep with their boots on as were the Germans).

A voice said, “It’s all right, Johnny, go back to sleep.”

Johnny is what the Gurkhas called a British Army soldier.

Jerry is what they called a German.

British Army soldiers and German Army soldiers tied the laces of their boots in different ways. Army regulations and all that.

So Gurkhas out on their nighttime missions were able to tell if the tent they were in belonged to a British or German soldier by the way the person inside the tent had tied their shoelaces.

In Van Helsing’s father’s friend’s case, he was told, “It’s all right, Johnny, go back to sleep.”

In a German soldier’s case, whether he was told “It’s not all right, Jerry” as he was dispatched with the khukuri knife to his eternal sleep, we’ll never know because the German soldier was too dead to tell us.

During the 1982 Falkland Islands War between Britain And Argentina, when the British Army General Staff announced they were sending a brigade of Welsh Army Gurkhas into the islands, that’s when the Argentinian military command in the Falkland Islands capital of Port Stanley announced they were surrendering and proceeded to raise the white flag over Port Stanley.

The former Indian Army Chief of Staff Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw once said, “If a man says he is not afraid of dying, he is either lying or he is a Gurkha.”

Many of the Brigade of Gurkhas in contemporary times do a lot of their nighttime stealth military training in the Canadian Armed Forces base near the town of Wainwright, Alberta, Canada.

The reason being that there are a lot of deer near Wainwright.

And part of the Gurkha’s successful passing of his military training is to sneak up to a deer at night and kill it by slashing its throat with a khukuri knife.

And of course, once you can sneak up to a deer with its expert astute sensitive hearing in the middle of the night and kill it without the deer noticing, then of course you can easily sneak up to a human being who does not have the acute expert sensitive hearing of a deer and do the same.

Renfield sent over a group of the Brigade of Gurkhas to an ISIS Islamic State training camp in Libya over night.

The next day as the Islamic State “fighters” went about their business, a huge holographic image of Renfield R. Renfield suddenly appeared overhead above the camp.

The holographic image was being beamed by a Set Enterprises advanced television satellite.

“Good day, you group of gonorrhea infested scumbags and worst of the garbage and refuse fallen from the plate of Mother Earth…”

Renfield poured himself a glass of beer.

From a 100 ounce bottle of beer whose giant label read,

REAL ALCOHOLIC BEER
WINNERS DRINK IT
LOSERS DON’T !

“Just to let you know,” Renfield grinned at the camera which made it appear he was grinning at the Islamic State losers, “while you were sleeping, a group of Gurkha fighters crawled into your tents and tied a small bag of nails and explosives to your testicles. I have here in my hand the detonator which when I press it will blow your testicles as well as the rest of you to Kingdom Come. But first I have a small poem I wrote which I’d like to recite before I do so. You of course do have the option of trying to get the bag off your testicles but that will result in a premature ejaculation and premature explosion if you do so…

Renfield (reciting poem):

You call yourself warriors but what sort of warrior can only kill people by blowing himself up in the process
You obviously learned nothing in school just how to be a loser during the time we call recess
You blow up girls at concerts
’cause your weenies are tiny little spurts
You can’t fight man to man combat
’cause you’re not men but a type of mutant rat
you know as my dear old mom used to say, It’s time to cut the crap
and I agree and I say like film directors of old, that’s a wrap…

Renfield put his hand on the detonator and grinned.

“Well,” he smiled, “to paraphrase my television alter ego, Raymond Red Reddington, you won’t be able to die on the bright side, you won’t die with a marvelous erection.”

Renfield pushed the button on the detonator.

On the camp loudspeakers the following song started blaring in tune with the numerous testicle nail bomb explosions,

“I’d like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony,
I’d like to buy the world a Coke and keep it company,
it’s the real thing…”

In the sky, a skywriter airplane wrote the words,

ABSOLUTELY NO 72 DARK-EYED VIRGINS FOR YOU

Seinfeld soup inspired words of comfort for those still alive and dying from their testicle nail bomb inflicted wounds.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday June 6th
2017.

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Hate’s Attack On Manchester: A Poem

May 23, 2017 at 3:59 pm (Crime, News, Poetry) (, , , , , , , )

Before the darkness, music played
Ariana sang upon the stage
But this gentle musical night
would descend in horror and fright
and joyous times would soon turn dark
like the arrow that struck singing skylark
and that dark still remains
accentuated by human blood stains

Young people had come full of joy
to the arena in an English town
that soon would turn upside down
Beneath a streetlamp’s streaming glow
a girl would watch her friend’s blood flow
scenes of young love overshadowed by hate
musical concert ends at door of Hell’s gate

Some man thought he knew God’s will
and that was to maim, destroy and kill
far from the Kingdom of God was he
but his evil folly has caused intense agony

Faces that will never be seen again
Faces that shone with Ariana’s song
but they left the concert into the night
not knowing hate’s venom would rise and strike
now those faces will only be seen on Facebook page
leaving those behind in tears and rage

And so the curtain came down on a musical show
as death’s curtain came down on those in post-concert glow
bodies maimed and broken, many their souls now gone
the night that Death put an end to music’s sweet song.

-A poem written by Christopher
Tuesday May 23rd 2017.

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