Vision of Apocalypse

Skeletons and graveyards are all that remain,
my heart stopped beating because of all the pain.
Why does the sun shine when it feels like pouring rain?
Just to lose with nothing left to gain.


Bitter trees produce bitter fruits
because the darkness rises through the roots
from deep underground in poisonous caverns dwell
all the wretched pitiless hounds of Hell
They are the true conquerer worms
who make that creature Humanity squirm.


And now the gentle smiling statue shall fall,
and all of us on our knees must crawl,
with the Devil's laugh and sneer,
who'll stay to shed a single tear?


No more will this Earth be green,
and blue skies shall remain a dream
buried under the light of endless night
and pure water shall fade from human sight,
only the taste of blood 'cause might makes right.


-Vision of Apocalypse
A poem written by Christopher Dracul Van Helsing
Wednesday evening November 23rd 2011.

Reflections On A Tuesday Evening In Late November

One time the teddy bears went out to play
now the teddy bears have gone away
instead fierce pirates shout, "Here be dragons"
and all the settlers have been scalped in covered wagons.
The sea's waves now roar with rage
and wisdom is no longer sage
the sun is gone
love is dead
Cupid's arrow now bleeds red
This human heart has turned to stone
and Aphrodite returns to foam.

-A poem written by Christopher Dracul Van Helsing
Tuesday evening, November 22nd 2011.

Frozen Streets of A Frozen City

Frozen snow
frozen air
frozen breath
frozen feet with frozen toes
walking these frozen streets
of a frozen northern city
longing for a beach so pretty
out in the warm tropical sun
me and my love having fun
as I stand and watch the icy frost gleam
I realize I can but dream. I can but dream.

-A poem written by Christopher Van Helsing
on a frozen Saturday evening
with temperatures of minus 21 degrees Celsius
Saturday night, November 19th 2011.

Jack O' Hare On Her Majesty's Secret Service

He was a bunny
with no money
but he was cool
and not a fool
so he was hired on Her Majesty's Secret Service
reporting to a man by the name of Purvis
who loved his secretary's round curvis
also loved by Theo-Dan
and many a breastfeeding fan
but back to our hero Jack
and not the luxurious rack.
Jack went out in search of Dr. No
mad scientist on the go
when No became Yes
oh what a mess
come to the test
it's certainly the best
take your eyes off that breast
and focus on Jack
not that rack
Jack's our hero
no Agent Zero
but Double 0 Eleven
next to Bond's 007
he likes his carrot juice shaken not stirred
his bow tie attire seldom preferred
save by a nerd.
When Goldfinger raised his finger
Jack did not linger
but to the tune of modern pop singer
punched that lunatic a real zinger
and put him through the ringer.
Pussy Galore was certainly no bore
Jack for one certainly didn't snore
and whipping out his big stick
he evened the score.
Sean Connery was Jack's mate
outside the gate
that saved the world's fate
for Bunny and Man
they did have a plan
whenever the world's shit
used to hit the fan.

-A poem about Jack O' Hare
the bunny rabbit known as Double 0 Eleven
On Her Majesty's Secret Service
written by Christopher Van Helsing
Thursday evening November 10th 2011.