The Metal Voyage of Comrade Death: A Poem

March 21, 2018 at 9:57 pm (Horror, Mystery/horror, Mythology, News, Poetry) (, , , , , , )

The Metal Voyage of Comrade Death: A Poem

It was a concert in a large hall
where spotlights shine and moonbeams fall
It had an clear window opening roof
below it sat a giant’s tooth
for this was a Heavy Metal concert
where baroque’s rhythm is engulfed by a demonic spurt

The crowd roared amidst the artificial thunder
as worlds collided like atoms split asunder
The old dark gods the musicians did invoke
amidst huge clouds and plumes of smoke

On this night the call was heeded
these fruits of darkness had long been seeded
Above the crowd there floated in the air a dark black Viking ship
one aging headbanger remarked “How totally hip!”
But this ship was not part of the metal band’s act
its appearance was the outcome of a devilish pact

For the old gods had finally answered the nights of long endless prayers
invoked in beat of bass and bang of drums and lightning flares
Death with its scythe rode in the old Norse long ship
At the end of a long voyage and blood drenched trip

The crowd below roared its approval
as the roof collapsed in great upheaval
and the sound of clashing swords was quite medieval
For Ragnarok and Death had shown up in the hall
and now on the floor blood and bodies did sprawl

The musicians ran off the stage and out the door
only to discover hellish flames engulfed them from a dragon’s roar
For the old gods in answering prayers will not let you down
They will bury you in shrouds like seams of the Norse goddess Hel’s gown

Long after the fire had decimated the hall
a boy returned home with purchase from an antique stall
What have you there? asked the boy’s mother curious
while outside the thunderstorms were loud and furious
A ship in a bottle answered the boy with a smile
as blood slowly dripped along the house kitchen tile
A ship in a bottle- a Viking long ship-
with Death as its captain- looking totally hip.

-A Poe/Lovecraft style
horror poem
written by Christopher
Wednesday March 21st
2018.

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When Old and Dear Friends Die: A Poem

December 27, 2016 at 6:16 pm (Commentary, Obituaries, Personal essays, Poetry) (, , )

When Old and Dear Friends Die: A Poem

When old and dear friends die,
it is a feeling hard to describe
Gray seems so much grayer
And light seems so much darker

Hearing of your passing this afternoon my dear friend
has quite literally knocked the wind out of me
And what makes it harder is we never met in person
We blogged at the same blogging site
meeting back there in 2007
We talked on-line
And we chatted over the phone
But we never met in person

You were a social networking rock of stability for me after my dad died back in 2010
phoning me, emailing me and asking me how I was doing.

I never realized how much my writing had impacted you
until you asked me to be godfather to your daughter Nyssa when she was born back in 2011
You obviously picked up and sensed from my writing that I was a fellow human being to be trusted
in asking me to be your daughter’s godfather

And now poor little Nyssa will be turning 6 this coming January 1st
And starting the New Year without her beloved Daddy 😦

I never got to India to see you, my friend
You were going to show me around your beloved country
Now if I ever visit your dear land, my contact with you will be to lay a rose at your grave or urn

But I will always be there for your daughter Nyssa
I remember you said that to me once on the phone, “Christopher, promise me that you’ll always be there for my daughter Nyssa.”
And I did.
And so I shall.

Au revoir, my dear friend.
Until we meet for the first time in person in God’s paradise.

-A poem written by Christopher
Tuesday December 27th 2016
in honour of his friend Amit Dhawan
who passed away this morning
in Delhi, India.

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Walking Towards The Gate

February 27, 2013 at 10:00 pm (Poetry) (, )

Walking Towards The Gate

Walking and walking, forever walking towards the gate
what lies on the other side? What is one’s fate?
Is it heaven? Is it Hell?
is it a place where we can dwell?
Or is it nothing? Nothing at all.
On mortal flesh, worms do crawl
but as for a soul- no chance at all.
And so we walk
and occasionally talk
towards the gate that awaits us all.

-A poem written by Christopher
Sunday evening February 17th 2013.

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