The sun rises across the sky while turtle doves sing out their cry the day is fast approaching noon intense heat sizzling soon.
Humidity fit for neither man nor beast one must find shade to say the least oh crackling sun accompanied by flies even the locusts seem to be chirping sighs.
Snap! crackle! Pop! on the ground the grass looks parched and brown clouds appear but they are but dust no rain and the land must rust.
Such were the days of the prairie drought when precious water was scarce about I look at these old photos before my eyes and looking up am grateful to see rain clouds in the skies.
-A poem written by Christopher Van Helsing Tuesday evening June 28th 2011.
The rhino was a wino he drank wine so fine sparkling from the Valley of the Rhine and dry- a Napa Valley high whose bouquet was like the sky.
A little Chardonnay here occasionally a glass of beer for he was the most interesting rhino in the world and many an interesting tale he unfurled in a Milan bistro or a London disco or a Paris cafe or with a San Francisco gay.
His adventures he told with a little Merlot and when he got on the Cabernet with some oysters flambe he slept in the next day.
With Riesling and Pinot Noir his nose danced quite far as he sniffed the aroma like a winetasters' diploma.
And then one fine day while he baked his souffle his kidneys and liver gave out he fell over on his snout.
But he died one happy Rhino unlike his pallbearer a polar bear called Albino who developed a hernia- kindo or maybe kinda that came from carrying the intoxicated reminda of the rhinoceros finda' of many a fine wine-a.
-A poem written by Christopher Van Helsing Monday evening June 27th 2011.
June morning downtown bus stop rock and flower garden at the stop young girl reaches out with outstretched hands towards the garden will she grab a stone or flower? The hand still reaches out but neither rock nor flower does she grab. What invisible thing is she reaching towards? This on-looker takes a closer look. The young girl sees a beautiful butterfly flying above a flower. The young girl is reaching out trying to grasp the pretty butterfly. The hand is almost there... near the butterfly's wings. Slowly, slowly she reaches out oh to touch that beautiful butterfly The hand is near, oh so near and then... zoom! The beautiful butterfly flies away A look of disappointment on the young girl's face for her hand now grasps neither rock nor flower nor butterfly. Her hand is left grasping nothing.
She could have taken a rock or flower but the butterfly moved and danced in the breeze making it a much more desirable object but to grasp a butterfly... the butterfly flies away leaving her with nothing.
Oh what elusive creatures butterflies are!
But it is that elusiveness that produces desire.
For those dreamers such as the young girl beauty does not stand fixed like a statue nor slowly shifts back and forth aimlessly like a plant beauty moves and flows like life itself for dreamers such as the young girl it must either be the butterfly... or nothing.
-A poem written by Christopher Van Helsing Monday afternoon, June 13th 2011 based on what he had observed at a bus stop this lovely June morning.
At the dawn of humanity a lovely garden and the Phoenix bird flew from tree to tree. No animal lovelier than the phoenix bird with its multicoloured feathers. Man and woman in the garden. They were entranced with the phoenix and its lovely multicoloured plumage. One day the woman by the babbling brook noticed the fair beautiful bird sitting in a tree. She approached. The bird chirped. The woman seemed hesitant. The bird chirped again. The woman reached out to the bird and the bird flew away. She grabbed a fruit from the branch the bird sat on. She ate some of the fruit. And gave some to the man to eat.
A huge storm descended upon the garden. The man turned ashen white. The woman wept. And the Phoenix lost its beautiful multicoloured feathers and its beautiful multicoloured plumage and all its wings and all its talons and its beak and its lovely song and its harmonious chirp.
And the bare naked bird stripped of its colour and its feathers and its plumage and its talons and its beak and its lovely song and its harmonious chirp could fly and soar no longer.
Instead it slithered in the grass while crawling on its belly and waved its tongue at passers-by. And the descendants of the once great and beautiful bird some grew fangs that dripped with poisonous venom that lashed out at any that came near the creature could not but remember its former glory and brooding in the dark holes of the earth its heart became poisoned and went through its entire body so the fangs became poisoned.
And the poison grew over the entire earth.
As for the garden, the man and woman were sent away from the garden never to return so that the poison would not destroy the beautiful garden.
-A poem written by Christopher Van Helsing Saturday evening June 11th 2011.
After I saw Rep. Anthony Weiner's pitiful announcement and press conference on CNN today, the thought came to me to write a satirical song about the whole sordid mess.
And the lyrics that were entering my mind as I watched this press conference were to the tune of an old World War II song The D-Day Dodgers.
During World War II, a story surfaced that British Member of Parliament Lady Astor said that the British troops who were fighting in the Invasion of Italy were enjoying a paid holiday and not making the same heroic sacrifices that the Allied soldiers were making on the beaches of Normandy during D-Day and afterwards.
In fact the Allied invasion of Italy was a very bloody campaign and some British soldier took it upon himself to write a reply to Lady Astor in song- a song that became known to history as The D-Day Dodgers.
The tune of the D-Day Dodgers itself came from an earlier World War I song Lily Marlene that was sung in the trenches of that great and terrible war.
Here are the lyrics to The D-Day Dodgers:
We're the D-Day Dodgers, way off in Italy Always on the vino, always on the spree, Eighth Army scoungers and their tanks, We live in Rome, among the Yanks, We are the D-Day Dodgers, way out in Italy We are the D-Day Dodgers, way out in Italy; We landed in Salerno, a holiday with pay, the Jerries brought the bands out to greet us on the way. Showed us the sights and gave us tea, We all sang songs, the beer was free To welcome D-Day Dodgers to sunny Italy.
Naples and Casino were taken in our stride, We didn't want to fight there, we went just for the ride. Anzio and Sangro were just names, We only went to look for dames The artful D-Day Dodgers, way out in Italy.
Dear Lady Astor, you think you're mighty hot Standing on the platform talking tommyrot. You're England's sweetheart and her pride We think your mouth's too bleeding wide. We are the D-Day Dodgers in sunny Italy, Look around the mountains, in the mud and rain, you'll find the scattered crosses, some that have no name. They are the D-Day Dodgers who stay in Italy.
And here's a video of the song The D-Day Dodgers so you can get an idea of the tune:
And here's my satirical song The Twitter Flasher of New York City to be sung to the tune of The D-Day Dodgers:
I'm the Twitter Flasher of dear New York Cit-ee always with my weenie when I'm on my PC, social media scounger with my many pranks I schmooze in DC- capital of the Yanks I'm the Twitter Flasher from New York Cit-ee I'm the Twitter Flasher letting it hang out in DC. I sent a message on Twitter- a jolly site today I pulled my Jerry down to greet her this special way. Showed her the sights before I had to pee I didn't realize I'd sent it for everyone to see so I claimed a hacker hacked in from some unknown point B.
Facebook and Twitter I just took in my stride all I wanted was to give my jolly a jolly good ride Miss X and Lady Y were just simply names I only went FB'ing just to look for dames. I'm the artful Flasher in NY and DC.
Dear Andrew Breitbart, you think you're mighty hot Standing in the blogosphere talking tommy rot but when it comes to shortcomings, you've shown the world nothing to what I've got. I'm the Twitter Flasher of New York Cit-ee Look around the cyberlandscape amid the sleeze and the pain you'll find the scattered hearts, some that have no name cause I'm the Twitter Flasher of New York Cit-ee.
-A satirical song written by Christopher Van Helsing Monday evening June 6th 2011 to be sung to the tune of The D-Day Dodgers.
So Jack it's good to be back eating another Big Mac on Broadway you're the star of the show your whiskers aglow basking in the lights below you've got loads of carrots on your acting merits you can sing and dance like you've got ants in your pants and you've never been to France but you're the star of the show if your vocal cords don't blow so get up and go you're cool don't you know and be the star of the show on Broadway.
-Some advice given by Chistopher Van Helsing to Jack O' Hare the wild hare jack rabbit who lives in the Van Helsing back yard.
Voice of ANN Announcer: This is ANN- the world's most watched Animal News Network. This is the original animal news network unlike that upstart Crazy As A Fox Network News.
News Anchorwoman Zelda Zebra: Hello, I'm Zelda Zebra. Coming up next on ANN, the Situation Room With Wolf Ritzer.
(Camera focuses in on a wolf eating some Ritz crackers)
Wolf Ritzer (spilling some Ritz crackers on his suit and tie): We've got an interesting story in the Situation Room today, Zelda.
Zelda (flicking her mane of zebra hair with her purple nail polished hoofs): What's that, Wolf?
Wolf: Well Zelda, you may have heard about a couple of pigs living up on a farm in Ontario, Canada. The couple recently announced to their neighbours that they have a baby. But they won't tell the neighbours whether the baby is theirs or what species of baby it is. They figure this new baby they call Hail should be be allowed to decide his/her own species itself. They figure that a baby animal should not let society dictate what species it is to be. Their argument is why shouldn't wolves be allowed to moo and eat grass and why shouldn't cows be allowed to lift their heads and bay at the moon? Why shouldn't bunnies be allowed to quack and why shouldn't ducks have big ears and be allowed to hop around in the grass?
Zelda: I understand Baby Hail has unleashed a storm of controversy all over the world.
Wolf: Indeed it has, Zelda. The outcry has caused Baby Hail's airheaded mother to release a terse and airheaded statement from her farm up in Ontario, Canada saying, "This just shows the inherent prejudices and stereotypes of the society we live in when animals won't allow a baby to be able to choose its own species."
Zelda: That should be an interesting story in today's Situation Room, Wolf.
Wolf: Thanks, Zelda.
Zelda: Also coming up at the top of the hour, what role did the White House family dog Bo play in the hunt and eventual capture and death of Osama bin Laden's pet rat?
Voice of ANN Announcer: You are watching ANN...
-A satire written by Christopher Van Helsing Tuesday evening, May 31st 2011
