Nocturnal Silhouette

July 7, 2021 at 10:26 pm (Poetry) (, , )

Princess Anna Louise and her black winged horse Nocturnal Silhouette

Princess Anna Louise and her black winged horse Nocturnal Silhouette
Landed in the green meadows between forests
Anna Louise scanned the landscape with her eyes
While Nocturnal Silhouette stood proud and erect on his hind legs

Seeing nothing amiss, Anna Louise patted the head
of her aerodynamic equine and whispered,
“Let us go, my beloved Silhouette,
all is well in the land.
Today we are at peace.”

-A poem written by Christopher
Wednesday July 7th 2021.

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Daydreaming On A Lake

June 3, 2021 at 10:22 pm (Poetry) ()

She lay on the beach
Not far from her parents’ cabin
And viewed the wide expanse of lake
She noticed a cabin on the other side
Not far from the lake pavilion

In her mind she imagined the cabin
Was owned by the King of the Goblins
And that at dusk the Goblin King
had surfboarded across the lake
And stolen her baby brother

Her parents she imagined
Were in the nearby village
Having dinner
So it was up to her the tall Warrior Princess
To rescue her brother

To aid her in her quest
She found a magic piece of driftwood
Whose end lit up and cast dancing sparks of light
That lit up the night sky

A glowing butterfly
Beaming with luminescence
Lay on her fingers
Likewise guiding the way

A magic swan was on her right
Guiding her in the direction
of the Goblin King’s cabin
Not far from the pavilion

Through the tall reeds of the lake she strode
With her spark emitting piece of driftwood
Her glowing butterfly and companion swan
Her dress sparkled silvery
In the enchanted dusk of blue and purplish red colours

She entered the Goblin King’s cabin
“Bright light!” Bright light!”
When he saw the spark emitting
Piece of driftwood.

The glowing butterfly landed on his nose
Goblin King shrieked, “More bright light!”
And went and hid under his bed
In the dark

She put her baby brother
On the back of the swan
Who carried him back to her parents’ cabin
As she strode alongside

She opened her eyes
This would be a magical night she thought
A night where she’d be the Warrior Princess
Who would fight and triumph over the Goblin King

-A narrative poem written by Christopher
Thursday June 3rd 2021.

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Jack O’ Hare: A Day Well Spent

May 30, 2021 at 10:30 pm (Humour, Poetry) (, , , )

He was the famous bunny called Jack O’ Hare
He saw the day was clear, sunny and quite fair
So he hopped here, he hopped there
He hopped around everywhere.

He hopped to the cabbage patch
Left there without a scratch
Even though the guard dog leapt into action
Jack fled in time by just a fraction.

He went to the carrot garden
And shrugged, “I beg your pardon?”
When he was chased away by Mrs. Jones
Who stopped to take Selfies on her cell phones.

He then went to the valley of green peas
And avoided some giant on his knees
He ate to his heart’s content
And thought this day heaven sent.

-A Jack O’ Hare poem
written by Christopher
Sunday May 30th
2021.

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Alfred and The Queen of Senacia

May 19, 2021 at 10:44 pm (Poetry) (, )

“It’s a beautiful ring, Madame,”
Alfred the butler and valet
said to his mistress
The Queen of Senacia,
“But it’s not on your ring finger.”

“No, the Duke decided to give it as a gift,”
Said the Queen of Senacia.
“He decided not to marry me.”

Alfred looked up and gazed
Into the Queen’s eyes,
“I’m so sorry, Madame.”

The Queen returned his gaze
And said, “I’m not.”

Alfred bowed and said,
“What reason did he give for deciding
Not to marry you?”.

“He realized,” the Queen replied,
“Correctly I might add
That I did not love him
But instead loved another.
He wanted a wife
Who loved him
From the beginning.”

“I see,” Alfred gazed into the Queen’s eyes again,
“Well, I can see his viewpoint.
And if I may be so bold to ask,
Your Majesty,
Who is this other you love?”.

The Queen cast her eyes downward,
“That I cannot say, Alfred,
That I cannot say.
The laws of the land would forbid me
From marrying a man of such low position
As my father and mother would tell me
If they were still alive.”

“I’m so sorry, your Majesty,”
Alfred kissed her hand and bowed
And took his leave.

“As am I, Alfred,”
The Queen looked at her valet
As he walked on the path towards
The servants’ house,
“As am I,”
She sighed wistfully.

-A narrative poem
written by Christopher
Wednesday May 19th
2021.

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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.

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Wilkie The Cat Western

September 11, 2020 at 10:54 pm (Comedy, Entertainment, Humour, Poetry, western) (, , , , , , , )

Announcer: The ghost of Orson Welles is now here to give you the introduction to the Wilkie the Cat western.

Welles (appears holding a spectral glass of red wine): Thank you Mr. Announcer. Wilkie the cat is a well known feline thespian and stage director best known for holding the record for the most number of plays
that closed after a perfomance of only one night on Broadway.
Now with the advent of the Chinese Communist Party Wuhan virus which the Ethiopian Communist head of the World Health Organization the non-medical Doctor Dr. Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus insists be called the Covid-19 virus, the lights are shut down all over Broadway and not just on Wilkie’s lights out plays.
Thus Wilkie with the love of his life Mitzie (a femme fatale Parisienne cat from Paris) has decided to go into filmmaking. And Wilkie is now making a Western where social distancing will be practiced.
The western now begins in the form of a poem:

Wilkie the Cat was out on the desert trail riding his horse
In a land where there was no Radio Shack or store called The Source
He came to a sign
posted on a cactus’ behind
that said Town Straight Ahead
He rode by a cowboy who looked to be dead
for his skull and his bones were all bleached white
and the fat vulture’s jeans seem to be fitting quite tight

Into the town Wilkie the Cat rode
And parked his horse alongside a fine looking toad
He decided to enter the saloon for a cold one
And entered looking like a son of a gun

The cat Dangerous Dan McGraw was up at the bar
Counting all his pennies from an old glass jar
Meanwhile on the saloon stage was Mitzie the star
singing about her home town of Paris a city quite far

Wilkie the Cat ordered a large glass of milk
And gazed at Mitzie’s legs in nylons of silk
Hey, Dangerous Dan shouted with a threatening glare
Stop looking at my girlfriend’s underwear

Mitzie turned and looked at the handsome catwhiskers stranger
And thought Wilkie must be one heck of a lost Texas ranger
She gave him a wink
which added to the stink
in Dangerous Dan’s countenance most foul
which seemed to be accentuated by the hooting of an owl

Step up in the street for a showdown
Dangerous Dan shouted with a huge downward frown
Wilkie said, I’ll be back after dealing with this clown

Into the street they went
With their holsters quite bent
And they stood face to face
After having walked many a pace

“Draw!” Cried the town crier
As he blew himself with a hair dryer
Pencil and sketch paper came out of opposing holsters
And each hand moved quickly like fast acting roller coasters

Dangerous Dan drew a stick man with a trash can
While Mitzie was on saloon steps fanning herself with a fan
Wilkie drew the Mona Lisa kicking Edvard Munch’s figure making him scream
While Dangerous Dan’s stick man came apart at the seam

My hero! Mitzie the Parisienne gave Wilkie the Cat a kiss
As Dangerous Dan retreated to an outhouse in search of bliss

Wlkie’s sketch was hung in the Wild West Saloon
The subject of an unrecorded Kenny Rogers tune
Wilkie The Cat and Mitzie rode off into the sunset
While the overweight vulture looked for new clothes to let.

-A Wilkie The Cat
narrative poem
written by Christopher
Friday September 11th
2020.

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The Duck Called Samuel Puddlington At The Wax Museum

September 6, 2020 at 10:18 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, News, Poetry) (, , , , , )

There was a Saint Bernard drinking a barrel flask of doubling gin
This side of the town of Duddlington
When he was approached by the duck called Samuel Puddlington

“Good sir,” said the duck as he raised his hat
Which scared off an approaching ravenous cat
“I’m looking for the wax museum in town,
Am I on the right path? Or am I out of bound?”

Said the big furry giant, “Go two blocks yonder and make a left
Like the present Communist Pope of faith bereft,
There you will find the town’s wax museum
With washrooms closed so outside you’ll be peein’. ”

So Samuel Puddlington followed the big dog’s directions
And passed by the store Big Al’s Furniture Selections
There across the street was the wax museum
And following the dog’s advice, outside did his peein’.

He paid his entrance fee and entered the space
which was filled with men and women of varied time and place
There was Marie Antoinette who lost her head
and Robespierre whose Reign of Terror was dread
Until at Guillotine himself, he made his own bed

There was Cleopatra the Queen of The Nile
And Jekyll trying to hide Hyde in his nail file
And meeting his end on the banks of the Thames was Jack the Ripper
Who was swallowed by a heroic giant fish named Flipper

“That definitely explains why they never found Jack!”
Said Sam as he pulled a feather out of his back
Down the hall were comic book characters Richie Rich and Sad Sack
Plus Wolfman Larry Talbot leading the wolves in the pack

In contemporary times
As he jotted down rhymes
were Donald Trump with his silly looking toupee
And Joe Biden whose mind was lost on the way
While in the background, Stalin’s and Mao’s ghosts were at play.

At the end of the hall Lincoln sat in his Ford Theatre seat looking sad
For the play title author’s American cousin had gone mad
Neo-Nazi and Confederate vampire battled Bolshevik and Maoist
And meditating on the sidelines was Buddhist and Taoist

Lincoln’s last words heard by Mary Todd were
“We will visit the Holy Land and see those places
hallowed by the footsteps of the Savior”
like an empty tomb that once marked where a grave were
“There is no city on Earth I so much desire to see as Jerusalem”
Site of where Isaac was saved by the blood of the ram
And the world’s humanity was saved by the blood of the Lamb.

-A poem written by Christopher
Sunday September 6th
2020.

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Morrigan In Cornwall

May 21, 2020 at 10:50 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic, Gothic romance, International Intrigue, Mythology, Poetry, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Morrigan In Cornwall

Along the cliffs she walked 
While a raven flew by
Morrigan the Irish Celtic goddess of war 
Beneath where she walked was the surging tide 
watery grave of many a sailor that died 
Behind her was wood of ancient fallen tree
Cast over these cliffs in storm that shattered tranquility 

These were the shores of Cornwall wild 
where wild desolate moors and cliffs of smugglers’ coves beguiled 
Not far from here was the Arthurian legend born
A brief ray of hope in a land forlorn 

Far far north of here were the mists of Avalon
Where the Arthurian sun set after Arthur was gone 
Now this land along with the world was pandemic bound 
So here far from eerie silence of death was bird cry and raging surf sound 

Like many immortals from ancient pantheons Morrigan returned to walk the earth 
when guns of August 1914 heralded a bloody rebirth 
A century of war 
and blood galore
Fascism, Nazism and Communism 
A three headed cobra with deadly fangs it bore 
Never far from human hearts the poison surged to the planet’s very core 

And now Mother Earth itself was filled with hate
A virus arose of deadly destiny and most fatal of fate 
Floods and cyclones now arose in the midst of May 
Were earthquakes now on the way neath skies so gray?

And war itself may not be far behind
That fiery red horse so insidiously unkind
Ares was still stomping his feet 
waiting for Morrigan to pick up the beat

-A poem and vampire novel chapter 
written by Christopher
Thursday May 21st
2020.

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The Inspector and The Baker’s Daughter

May 6, 2020 at 11:23 pm (Arts, Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic, International Intrigue, Literature, Mystery, News, Poetry, Spy Tales, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

The Inspector and The Baker’s Daughter


“Are you looking for something, Inspector?” The girl asked him.

A day began like any other for the Inspector
Yet no ordinary day 
These are no ordinary times
Covid-19 pandemic in world.

2 days ago police in Beijing
arrested a professor 
Chen Zhaozhi 
Former professor at the Beijing University of Science and Technology 
for calling Covid-19 
The Chinese Communist Party Virus

But Beijing’s arrest did not concern the French police detective 
What concerned the Paris police detective was a matter that concerned
The Paris Grand Orient Lodge
For British MP Renfield R. Renfield
had sent a confidential report today 
to a French and European politician
The Kraken who called himself Napoleon VI
The leader of the French Aquarian Age Bonapartist Party 

French President Macron had ordered surveillance of the Kraken’s
emails and text messages
And today Renfield had sent the Kraken 
a confidential report 
which was said to be from Five Eyes
The joint intelligence service of the U.S., Canada, Australia, New Zealand and the United Kingdom
The report claimed that the Covid-19 virus
Was indeed a virus that had accidentally escaped from the Wuhan Institute of Virology

At an emergency meeting of the Grand Orient Lodge
Isis, Osiris and Horus 
demanded to know 
whether the Renfield report 
was an actual copy of a Five Eyes 
Intelligence Report 
or whether the whole report was a 
piece of Renfieldian disinformation
designed to prevent Emmanuel Macron 
from ordering take out deliveries of Chinese food in Paris

A person that the Paris Police Inspector 
thought might know
was Marmalade Montague
a baker and a man 
from whom the Kraken bought 
his croissant rolls and Chinese hot steamed buns 

The Paris inspector himself used to buy his cinnamon buns from Marmalade Montague
Montague had recently been thrown out of his bakery 
for lack of payment of rent
due to decline in business 
during the Paris Covid-19 lockdown 
However the inspector decided to visit Montague’s apartment 
Perhaps the baker still lived there
As the building’s landlord had died 
from the Covid-19 virus and his estate was still up in the air

The Inspector entered the apartment
As he passed by the kitchen, he noticed hot cinnamon buns lying on the counter
So the inspector stopped and ate one
He ended up eating all 6 dozen.

The Inspector received a text message on his smart phone 
saying that Marmalade Montague kept poison in his bathroom medicine cabinet.
He went to check out the medicine cabinet 
The bathroom door was still open 
And that’s when the Inspector noticed Marmalade Montague’s lovely daughter Irene
sitting in a chair 
in a corner of the living room 

“Are you looking for something, Inspector?” The girl asked him.

“I was told your father kept poison in his medicine cabinet,” the inspector replied.
“He did but it’s no longer there,” Irene told him.
“Where is it?” The inspector asked.
“I added it to my dad’s recipe for his famous cinnamon buns that I left on the kitchen counter,” Irene answered.

The Inspector never did show up to that evening’s non-social distancing meeting of the Grand Orient Lodge.
A copy of Edgar Allan Poe’s short story Murders In The Rue Morgue was sent to the meeting
with a notation on the page 
before the title page 
that this was where the Inspector was to be found.

-A narrative poem
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday May 6th
2020.

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Marmalade Montague: Birth of A Legend

April 21, 2020 at 10:04 pm (Comedy, Entertainment, Folklore, Humour, News, Poetry, Science-Fiction, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

Marmalade Montague: Birth of A Legend

In a bakery in Paris 
were posters of the mummy Kharis
Who appeared in 1940s mummy movies 
“Cause Imhotep wasn’t of the jazz Swing era groovies”

The bakery was owned by Marmalade Montague 
At the end of the street or in French “la rue”

Marmalade was an eccentric gent 
And because of the Covid-19 lockdown couldn’t pay the rent 
So into the gutter he was thrown
Getting up, he made a moan 

Inside Marmalade something snapped
opening up a genius untapped 
So into the Paris catacombs he descended 
and ran past ancient pipes all upended 
When he emerged again 
he carried a hen
and wore a silver wig
while his lips munched upon a fig

He was dressed from head to toe in Louis XIV era attire
So it was a good thing that his pants weren’t on fire 
He proclaimed to empty streets 
devoid of all and no words of greets
“I am Marmalade Montague court scientist to the Court of Louis Quatorze”
“So I say to you, Paris, open your doors”

But no doors opened and Marmalade Montague went back to the catacombs 
A world of poor reception for many smart phones 
For Marmalade Montague had gone mad
If he had any friends, they might have felt sad 
But as it was Marmalade had gone from good to bad.

And on this April day a legend was born 
In a world that was by a virus torn
No Sacrifice of the Mass was being said 
Masons hoped to make of Notre Dame a temple of lead
And in Rome, the ex-Vicar of Christ was flaming Bolshevik red 

Marmalade Montague had ceased to be a baker 
In his mind he had become a Louis Quatorze court alchemist faker 
And the world would never again be the same
Although the mainstream media would continue to be lame.

-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday April 21st 2020.

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