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

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By the Twilight’s Last Gleaming: Good Morning America

January 11, 2021 at 9:42 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Poetry) (, , )

Good morning, America, how are you?
I’m the spirit of the year 1917
The one that gutted the cities of Petrograd and Moscow
And I’ll be gutting your country 500 miles before the day is done
January 20th marks the start of the new Soviet
Your institutions so corrupt they faded at our sight
Media, courts and Congress
Anxious that hammer and sickle replace Stars and Stripes

No more free and fair elections for you
The Dominion Nazi takes it all away
Just social distance and put on your masks
Until we strip every ounce of your humanity away
Be like good little boys and girls and believe the news casts
Any dissenting voices social media will take away
Build back better is our motto
As we all tear down and destroy
Leaving nothing but nothing in its wake

Good-bye America, how are you?
Ronald Reagan called you the world’s last best hope
That’s why we took your land over
And we did it without firing a shot
50 years of a corrupt decadent culture
And you folded like an unmighty paper rock

Good-bye America, how are you?
Liberty lies dead at your door
And thanks to that long decadent culture
You lost your spirit to fight evermore
The Gates of Hell are upon you
And both bodies and souls we will have too.

-A song and poem
written by Christopher
Monday January 11th
2020.

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Haiku About Friendship and Winter Storms

January 7, 2021 at 11:23 pm (Poetry) (, )

In midst of life’s storms
‘Mongst chill of cruelest winter
Everyone needs friend

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Newly Invented Van Helsingian Style Haiku About Mai The Illustrator

December 27, 2020 at 11:43 pm (Poetry) (, , )

He’d never met a professional illustrator before
And now having met one
He was glad he had

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One Silent Night

December 23, 2020 at 11:58 pm (Christmas, Culture, History, Music, Poetry, Songs) (, , )

It was a quiet night in 1816
When a young Austrian priest
Joseph Mohr
Went for a walk
Around the village of Oberndorf
In Austria

He looked out over a very quiet
snow-laden town
And the stars glistening
In the frosty heavens above

In his mind’s eye
He saw a beautiful young maiden
Wrapping a newborn babe
In a blanket
In a stable
In the back courtyard
Of an old inn
At the edge of a small town

The young maiden sang the sweetest lullaby
To her young son
He did not understand the words to the song
The young maiden sang
But it was the sweetest melody he had ever heard

He went home and wrote words to the melody
He did not know the words the young maiden sang
But he wrote the words of what he himself
Saw that night

A couple of years later
Franz Zaber Gruber
The choir director
Of Saint Nicholas Church
In Oberndorf
Wrote music to accompany
The words that Father Mohr
Had written to accompany
The melody he heard in his mind

And that Christmas Eve in 1818
At Saint Nicholas Church in Oberndorf
Austrian villagers first heard
The song lyrics and melody
To
Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht

Silent night, holy night.

-A poem written by Christopher
Wednesday December 23rd 2020
The Night Before
Christmas Eve 2020.

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South Seas Christmas

December 5, 2020 at 11:32 pm (Poetry) (, , , , , , )

It was December 1946
And the war in the Pacific
had been over for a year
So Carson Cody Albion
Private Eye
Who lived and worked in
Los Angeles
But usually spent his Decembers
In winter wonderlands
To recapture the Christmas feelings
of his childhood
Had this year
decided to spend his December
in the South Pacific

As he had always dreamed of someday
visiting the South Seas
And so why not spend a Christmas
in the South Seas?
And so he had taken a ship
And landed here on a beautiful
South Seas island

And so here he was
In the South Pacific
In December
On a South Seas island
Paradise

It was a moonlit night
He was on the beach
Under the shade of a palm tree
Since there was no sun
There was no need for him to be
In the shade of a palm tree
But no matter

Within his view
Was a nearby island
That was a dormant volcano
At least he hoped
It was a dormant volcano
Otherwise his South Seas
Christmas holiday
Might turn out to be
An even bigger blast
Than he had
originally expected

From his viewpoint and perspective
In the nightsky
To the left of the dormant island volcano
Were clouds that appeared to be reindeer
Pulling Santa and his sleigh
Full of presents

It was a bit early for Santa to be flying
Another 20 days
Until the midnight hour of Christmas Eve
But maybe he was getting an early start

Albion sipped his coconut milk
Straight from a coconut
And said,
Merry Christmas to all
And to all
A good night.

-A Carson Cody Albion poem
written by Christopher
Saturday December 5th
2020.

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All Bent and Broken

November 25, 2020 at 11:59 pm (Life, Poetry) ()

When I was a kid in elementary school
My older sister was in High School
She talked about a student in her school
Who was a poet
I, at the time, was surprised.
I didn’t think there were any poets
left in the world
I thought they all died out at
the end of the 19th Century.

I don’t remember this poet’s first name
But his last name was Cardinal
And he apparently wrote poetry
Under the pen name
Charles Frederick

He self published his own poetry
In a book
They sold in the High School store
The book was called
Here Lies Charles Frederick
And the picture used to illustrate the cover
Was of a gravestone
That had the name
Charles Frederick on it

My sister bought it
I read the book
And I was impressed

But the only poem I remember this day from it
was about a little girl
Who showed her mother
Her teddy bear
After he had been damaged
And the only line I remember
from the poem
was the last line
The words the little girl
Spoke to her mother
“Mommy, he’s all bent and broken”

And that’s exactly the way I feel tonight
All bent and broken
Earlier today I received a huge punch in the gut
Metaphorical of course
But it’s probably going to send me
Into that deep spiralling well of depression
I thought I had finally escaped from

I’m like that little girl’s teddy bear
In the poem
In the book
Here Lies Charles Frederick-

I’m all bent and broken.

-A poem written by Christopher
Wednesday November 25th
2020.

Writer’s note: The above poem is NOT a work of fiction.

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Faustina

November 19, 2020 at 11:40 pm (Arts, Culture, Gothic, Gothic poem, Gothic romance, Poetry, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )


Faustina with her cat Lenore Belle Noir in front of the fireplace in her room in Vienna

Flames in the fireplace
Flames that burn
Like thousands of tiny suns
Sending out a cosmic glow
Across the universe
Sending out heat
And ripple effects

Those flames so like her memories
That burn and scorch her mind
In the neverending passages of time
When will her memories become
Like the blackened embers
That sit below the base
of the fire
Becoming galactic black holes
That never emit any light
And become darkness
And a huge void of nothingness
That brings relief
To neverending pain.

Faustina had dressed like she was going to a ball
A cascading symphony of Strauss Waltzes
Dancing in a joyous celebration
Of the Blue Danube
and the Vienna Woods
But there were no Viennese waltzes
And grand balls happening
In this time of Covid

For the Covid virus did decree
like Kubla Khan
At those now forgotten gates of Xanadu
But its decree differered
From that cultured Emperor
For it decreed
And health and political authorities assented
That henceforth
Humans must only exist
And not live

They must no longer interact
No song, dinner or dance
They must cover half their face
With a mask
For if the image of God
Could not be erased from humanity
Then it must at least be distorted
Or cut in half

It is for your own good they tell us,
Faustina thought,
But did not despots throughout history
Always say the same?

On this night
Faustina wore a beautiful white silvery
Evening dress
And necklace
Imagining she’d meet a handsome prince
Or duke or count
But instead her only true friend
Her cat
Lenore Belle Noire
Sat on the train
Of her dress
As the pair
Listened to Strauss waltzes
On the old Gramophone

Lenore Belle Noir
Looked at her mistress
Trying to emit the power of healing
Through her kind and compassionate eyes
To heal her mistress’ tortured soul

For Faustina was the daughter
Of Johann Georg Faust (1480-1541)
Known to history as Faust
If one liked Goethe
Or Doctor Faustus
If one preferred
Christopher Marlowe

Her mother was Hecate
Greek goddess of witchcraft
Who had fallen hopelessly
In love
With that dark tortured soul
Faust
He who had sold his soul
To Mephistopheles

They had made love in the 1580s
And at midnight on the evening of
August 7th to 8th 1588
The night Francis Drake
Defeated the Spanish Armada
Faustina had been born

Born to Hecate
Born to Faust
Born to immortality
For that had been the curse
Inherited from her parents
For immortality for her
Had been a curse
And not a blessing

So many memories
So many painful memories
How long would they burn
In her mind
Like the flames in the fireplace?
How long before they finally
Turn into glowing embers
And at last mercifully into darkened ash?

The sound of the clock
Ticking on the wall
Provided no answer
Would that it did
Would that it did
Tick tock! Tick tock!

-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday November 19th
2020.

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Reblog of The Wild Lindsay Lohan Girl

October 27, 2020 at 10:54 pm (Entertainment, Folklore, Humour, Poetry, Satire, Songs) (, , , , )

This was a poem I wrote 13 years ago way back in July 2007 when actress Lindsay Lohan and her shenanigans were big in the news. Written to the tune of the Irish folk song about colonial Australia entitled The Wild Colonial Boy.

Dracul Van Helsing

 The Wild Lindsay Lohan Girl


The Wild Lindsay Lohan Girl
A song written by Christopher
aka Dracul Van Helsing
July 25th, 2007
to the tune of the old Irish song
The Wild Colonial Boy

There was a wild Lindsay Lohan girl, Lindsay Lohan was her name
when it came to finding cocaine, she claimed she’d been framed
She was not doing dope, her car just went for a twirl
and dearly did the tabloids love the Wild Lindsay Lohan girl.

At the early age of sixteen years, she had more than a thousand beers
and to California traffic laws, she gave several bronx cheers
She went up on the sidewalk running over Patrolman Merle
a terror to the highways was the Wild Lindsay Lohan girl.

One fine evening as Lindsay rode along
she threw out the window her very thin thong
Three mounted troopers charged her down
this drunken airheaded clown

View original post 106 more words

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Reflections About The Year 2020 On A Mist Filled October Evening

October 26, 2020 at 10:24 pm (Gothic, Horror, Mystery/horror, Poetry) (, , , , , , )

2020- “The year that just keeps on giving”
Many say in the worst sense of that expression
20/20 vision when visiting the optometrist
means perfect vision
Perhaps in this year of 2020
We have achieved perfect vision
And don’t like what we see

We’re like Dorian Gray
The character in Oscar Wilde’s novel
The Picture of Dorian Gray
Who after living a lifetime
of sin, debauchery and crime
After his portrait was created
Finally unveils his portrait
to see what the state of his soul
looks like

And he’s shocked to see
what he sees there

In this year
Humanity like Dorian
is finally seeing the portrait
unveiled of itself
by the winds of 2020
and does not like
what it sees

But what it sees is a reflection
of what it truly is.


“Here’s to Dorian and all that he has left behind.”

-A poem written by Christopher
Monday October 26th
2020.

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