Renfield In Sleepy Hollow: A Poem

Renfield In Sleepy Hollow:  A Poem


For Renfield, it was not such a bitter pill to swallow,
to be at this time of year visiting the town of Sleepy Hollow,
for he could have been with the band Smashing Pumpkins
and eaten horse men's heads with his chicken dumplings.
For Renfield was a cool cat though shapeshifting hamster he be
and was always human when he took a pee
or visited the tea rooms for afternoon tea.



For the time of year was Halloween
when ghosts and goblins walk to be seen
and wouldn't be caught dead in outfits too green.
Leave that to the leprechauns
and those who eat green cheese with their prawns.


Amadeus was picking magic mushrooms off the lawn
while 3-headed guard dog Cerberus did watch and yawn,
Angry Hades or Pluto shouted,
Now, Brussels sprouts have sprouted
And ferryman Charon just sat and pouted.


And so on this night in Sleepy Hollow,
It was Renfield's 10th can he did swallow,
Ah, said he, Sherrielock's beer is so divine,
these mushroom ingredients taste so fine,
And I can act as if I've lost my mind.


Sherrielock Holmes approached wearing black mask and carrying a black whip,
She also wore black lipstick on her lip,
And had one stern black gloved hand upon her hip,
She wore black leather skirt and black fishnet nylons,
With her stilettos, she kicked over construction pylons.


Along came Headless Horesman riding with pumpkin head,
Sherrie whipped him off his horse and he fell to ground quite dead.
Ichabod Crane said, "The world has gone topsy turvy,"
as he looked at Sherrielock's corseted top so curvy.

Ichabod got to Hell out of there
as Renfield dropped his underwear
and Sherrielock whipped his bottom so pink
that his lower cheeks turned red like lines on a hockey rink.


I think I got Renfield's porno pay-per-view channel by mistake,
said Amadeus as he ate mushrooms that turned him into a flake
He used an autumn leaf for a remote control to change the channel
when he suddenly got beamed by a wooden panel
for a witch on a broomstick collided with a window
as otters in a nearby stream chased after a minnow.


For it was Halloween in Sleepy Hollow
where chaos ruled the land as statue succumbs to winged swallow.
So beware of magic mushrooms on this Halloween night
for your bottom the next morning will look quite the sight.


-A Halloween poem
 written by Christopher
 Friday October 30th
 2015.


Sent from my iPhone

Haiku About Pegasus and The Walrus' Talk of Many Things

Haiku About Pegasus and The Walrus' Talk of Many Things

Walrus time not come
Sea not hot nor pigs can fly
but a horse has wings

600th Anniversary of Battle of Agincourt

600th Anniversary of Battle of Agincourt


It was 600 years ago today- October 25th 1415- St. Crispin's Day- that England's King Henry V delivered a speech written for him by the yet-to-be- born future playwright William Shakespeare and then went on to defeat French forces at the Battle of Agincourt.

Rhyming Haiku About Ichabod Crane

Rhyming Haiku About Ichabod Crane From The Legend of Sleepy Hollow


Poor Ichabod Crane
mistook pumpkin for a head
and so went insane

CERN Stargate Wormhole Experiment and The Mysterious Entity

CERN Stargate Wormhole Experiment and The Mysterious Entity


Damon Lescu was a physicist from Stanford University in California.

He felt privileged to be here today at the CERN Large Hadron Collider in Switzerland.


Today an experiment involving the colliding of protons would try to open one of those mythical stargates that haunted both science-fiction and Stephen Hawking's worst nightmares.

A wormhole that served as a possible gateway to another dimension.

Lescu shivered despite the steaming hot cup of coffee that he was drinking.


He felt his skin tingling with anticipation.

Would an entity emerge from another dimension?


Would he say with the wonder of a Miranda in Shakespeare's Tempest, "O brave new world that has such people in it."?


Or would he flee in horror from the being that emerged?

Wondering what were the men of science thinking when they ventured to open such a gate?


The sound of the tunnel ceased.

The lights stopped flashing.

The experiment was over.


Silence.


What if anything would emerge?


More silence.


You could have heard a pin drop.


Suddenly a loud thump was heard.


Then the door of the large accelerator opened and there on the floor lay a strange mysterious looking creature.


The entity got up.

And dusted itself off with its upper appendages that Lescu guessed were probably its arms.

The being stared in peculiar fashion at Lescu and the others present.

What odd looking eyes.

What odd looking facial features.


Was it human?


In one sense, the creature might have appeared human.


But in another sense it didn't.

What was it?

Its uniform or clothing might have been mistaken for a proper English jacket, suit and tie.

Possibly under certain conditions.

Could the entity communicate?


"Lescu," Damon pointed to himself.


The creature appeared to be reaching for something under what might be taken for a suit jacket with one of its appendages.


Then the entity pointed to itself with its other upper appendage and spoke in an almost inaudible mumble, "Uh... bean."


Lescu extended his right hand, "Nice to meet you."


The entity removed its other appendage from underneath its suit and mumbled, "Uh... tea pot."


The entity indeed had a large tea pot stuck to the end of this appendage.


Suddenly the entity noticed a tiny object lying on the floor.


The object resembled a little brown teddy bear.

"Teddy," said the entity in a much louder voice and went over and picked up the bear with its non-tea pot stuck upper appendage and started kissing and stroking it.


Lescu turned pale.


What, he wondered with shock and awe, had he and his fellow scientists unleashed on this dimension?


The End.


-A short story written by Christopher
 Wednesday October 14th 2015.


Sent from my iPhone

Orson Welles: A Poem

Orson Welles: A Poem


From an adaptation of MacBeth set on the island of Haiti
to a rich man dying for his childhood sled
from a Haitian Cain to a Charles Foster Kane
he traversed the realm of human character.
Whether it was the Martians landing in New Jersey
or a magnificent Amberson getting his comeuppance
he traversed 20th century mediums from stage to radio to film.


Whether it was chimes at midnight for a Sir John Falstaff
or an escaped Nazi getting stabbed in the back by a moving clock piece on a clock tower in The Stranger
Welles traversed the sands of time from medieval Europe to 20th Century New England.


Whether playing an Irish sailor on a boat for a lady from Shanghai
or a gangster named Arkadin flying solo in a plane in the air above Spain
Welles transported himself through nationality and locale with ease.

From a mysterious third man in Vienna to a shady police captain on the U.S.- Mexico border
Welles mixed a touch of evil with a slice of lime
and like a cat with 9 lives, he revises a dead film character on radio.


From playing the Shadow on radio to casting a huge shadow on techniques of film making
Welles was a giant
and pygmies do not take well to giants
Like a Swiftian hero under Lilliputian ropes
Welles found himself tied by Hollywood moguls
for Welles created great art and not massive profits
he honoured Apollo the god of the arts
and they honoured Mammon the god of money
He reverenced Shakespeare
and they reverenced a rising investment portfolio
He loved the language of the Bible
and they loved the numbers that grew in account book ledgers.


So the only magic Welles would perform in later years was on stage in front of live audiences
instead of magic on the screen in cinemas in front of moviegoers
performing tricks of sleight of hand
instead of tricks of sleight of camera


He did TV commercials for Paul Masson wines where he sold no wine before its time
to doing radio ads showing the absurdity of peas growing in the snow in Lincolnshire in July
to fjords in Norway where the cod gather in great shoals and grow "crumb, crisp coating".


That final interview on the Merv Griffin Show 30 years ago tonight
Welles reconciled with warthogs and the spirit of his late former wife Rita Hayworth
and then would go home and enter eternity.


-A poem written by Christopher
 Saturday October 10th 2015
 30 years to the night after
 the death of Orson Welles.


Sent from my iPhone