Late For The Party

Late For The Party


"Aren't you ready yet?" The wife asked her husband, "we're going to be late for the party. I'd like to be there before the clock strikes midnight and the New Year comes."


"I'm almost finished this poem I'm writing, dear," the husband smiled, "hold on."


The wife looked at the clock, "Come on. Let's go NOW.  Your poem is not so important. It's not as if people are going to be reciting or even remembering it for the next 200-odd years."


"All right, dear," the husband got up to get his coat.


The poem lay on his desk,


"Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind...
... we'll take a cup of kindness yet for auld lang syne..."

-Robert Burns, 1788.


-A short short short story
 written by Christopher
 Thursday December 31st
 2015.

Rita: A Poem

Rita: A Poem


Images in black and white
filmed more than a lifetime ago
A life no longer present in the world
Yet what is now seen on that screen is not a ghost
but a life and personality captured at a moment in time
A smile of smiles that speaks and warms across the ages
Sent from her lifetime
to mine
Eyes whose soul reflects in them
And touches a heart in the future.


-A poem written by Christopher
 Friday December 25th 2015
 inspired by watching movies
 with Rita Hayworth
 my favourite actress.


-Interesting how my film making idol Orson Welles and I not only shared a love for Shakespeare, The King James Bible and the classics but also appeared to have similar taste in women.

Desert Night: A Poem

Desert Night: A Poem


Howl of the jackal penetrating the darkness
The desert cold
where by day it sizzled with heat
In the day the sun is blinding
By night the stars hang as welcome lanterns
And the moon a beacon lighthouse for an ocean of sand.


-A poem written by Christopher
 Friday December 25th
 2015.

Renfield's Voyages of The Starship Perverterprise

Renfield's Voyages of The Starship Perverterprise


Renfield was on his computer watching a porno movie he wrote and produced called Star Dick.


The movie began with this narration:


"Star Dick... orgy date 3233.4321 ... I'm Captain James E. Quirk. These are the voyages of the Starship Perverterprise... its 5 year mission... to explore strange new positions... to seek out new forms of sexual deviation... to boldly go where no man has gone before..."

The Executive Producer of the film in the credits was listed as Gene Popacherry which was the pseudonym Renfield used for this particular movie.

Renfield watched the following scene from the movie:

(Captain's Quarters, Starship Perverterprise. Mr. Spook is bending over and Captain Quirk is directly behind him)


Mr. Spook: I must say, Captain, this is a very unusual positron.

Captain Quirk: Indeed Mr. Spook. It's a position I learned from reading the Kama Sutra that great ancient Indian work of literature. It's a book you should really read, Mr. Spook. Brush up on the earthling human side of your heritage. After all, a ship's science officer should not live on Volcanian logic and reasoning alone.


Mr. Spook: So it would appear, Captain. Now if you wouldn't mind disentangling yourself from my lower regions, I really wouldn't mind getting back to work.


Captain Quirk: Um... that may be a bit of a problem, Mr. Spook.


Mr. Spook: May I inquire as to why that is so, Captain?


Captain Quirk: I must confess that I didn't read the rest of that particular chapter of the Kama Sutra, Mr. Spook. The part that gives instructions for disentanglement.


Mr. Spook: A fine mess you've got us  into, Captain. Do you propose that we walk around the Perverterprise like this? Like a set of conjoined Siamese twins born into the condition of a permanent pose in  a Turkish bath house orgy?


Captain Quirk: I'm trying to think, Mr. Spook.


Mr. Spook: I wish you had done some thinking before hand, Captain.  It's rushing ahead without using the principles of logic that often leads to catastrophic situations such as the one we currently find ourselves in.


Captain Quirk: Well I don't exactly recall you saying no when I first proposed this experiment, Mr. Spook.


Mr. Spook: Well as the ship's science officer, I thought it might expand my knowledge of the universe. I wasn't counting on it expanding the cleft between my buttocks instead.


Captain Quirk: Hold on, Mr. Spook, I'm going to get my beeper out.


Mr. Spook: Oh God. Not again, Captain.


Captain Quirk: I was referring to my telecommunicator, Mr. Spook.


Mr. Spook: Oh, thank heavens.


Captain Quirk (on his telecommunicator) : Are you there, Scatty?

Scatty (with a thick Scottish brogue) :  I'm in the engine room, Captain. I'm eating some Scottish haggis and playing with the lever on my control panel.


Captain Quirk: Scatty, I need you to go down to the ship's library and get the volume of the Kama Sutra and bring it to my private quarters immediately.


Scatty: Why should I do that, Captain?


Captain Quirk: Because even though we live in the 23rd Century, our advanced space-based civilization seems to have forgotten how to use the Internet and Google.


Scatty: No, I mean, why do you require the Kama Sutra, Captain?


Captain Quirk: That's none of your business, Mr. Scat. Just get to the library and get the damned Kama Sutra and bring it here.


(Quirk angrily closes the top flap on his Telecommunicator)


Mr. Spook: With all due respect, Captain, I think Scatty is going to discover the reason why you need the Kama Sutra when he walks into the room and discovers us like this.


Captain Quirk: I'll worry about crossing that bridge when I come to it, Mr. Spook.


Mr. Spook: I have the feeling Julius Caesar never encountered such a problem when he crossed the Rubicon.


Captain Quirk: Which explains how he ended up Dictator of the Roman Republic while I'm only the captain of the Starship Perverterprise.


(Quirk's telecommunicator goes off)


Quirk (opening up his telecommunicator) :  What is it, Scatty?

Scatty: I canna leave the engine room, Captain. One of the engines is undergoing a meltdown.


Captain Quirk: An engine meltdown?


Scatty: Yes, Captain, ever since a reproduction print of the early 20th Century Modigliani reclining nude portrait painting of the famous immortal Sherrielock Holmes was placed in the engine room, our engines have experienced numerous meltdowns.


Mr. Spook (commenting) : The lobsters in the ship's aquarium have also experienced severe hyperventilating problems ever since that painting was unveiled, Captain.


Captain Quirk: All right, Scatty. I'll try to get ahold of Mr. Mumu or Officer Rockoff.


Scatty: I must remind you, Captain- that all of the ship's men are currently in the ship's theatre watching tonight's UFC Fight from Alpha Centauri.


Captain Quirk: Damn. I forgot about that.


Mr. Spook: If you wouldn't mind listening to a Volcanian observation of condescending superiority, Captain, it seems that all you earthling men ever think about is sex or sports.


Captain Quirk:  I'm afraid you've got us there, Mr. Spook.


Mr. Spook: And thanks to a temporary lapse in my Volcanian logical reasoning ability and judgement, I'm afraid you've got me there as well, Captain.


Captain Quirk (on telecommunicator) :  All right, Scatty.  I'll try to get ahold of the ship's communications officer Lt. Ucausehardonia.


Scatty: All right, Captain. I must go now. There goes another engine.


Captain Quirk: So long, Scatty.

Mr. Spook: I hope you can get ahold of Lt. Ucausehardonia because my Volcanian ears can feel a 7 year itch coming on.


Captain Quirk: This is going to be embarrassing asking a woman to fetch the Kama Sutra from the library, Mr. Spook.  When Lt. Ucausehardonia comes here and finds us like this, she's going to wonder about my sexual orientation.


Mr. Spook: My own judgement of your sexual orientation was made up the moment you suggested this bizarre exercise in physical gymnastics, Captain. I just went along with it because being a Volcanian, I'll try anything once- a cultural tradition I'll now be forced to re-evaluate in lieu of this particular incident.


Captain Quirk (on telecommunicator) :   Lt. Ucausehardonia?


Lt. Ucausehardonia:  Lt. Ucausehardonia here, Captain.


Captain Quirk: Lt., I was wondering if you could go down to the library and pick up the volume of the Kama Sutra located there and bring it here to my private quarters.


Lt. Ucausehardonia (in a sexy sultry voice) : Gosh, you've been feeling awfully amorous the past 24 hours haven't you, Captain? I still haven't recovered from your historical re-enactment of Evel Knievel penetrating into the Grand Canyon that you performed on me last night.


Captain Quirk (his face turning red) :
Actually, I was just wanting to finish reading a particular chapter I've never finished reading.


Lt. Ucausehardonia:  Well I'm afraid the ship's doctor Boner MacRoy checked that book out of the library when he left for 3 days vacation on the planet Orgasma, Captain.


Captain Quirk: All right, thanks anyways, Lt. (puts down the flap on his telecommunicator) : Shit! How could you do this to me, Boner?


Mr. Spook: So Captain, it appears that the good doctor has screwed you in more ways than one.


Captain Quirk: I'm... we're going to have to go down to the bridge and set an emergency course to the planet Orgasma to pick up that book.


Mr. Spook: So we'll have to walk the corridors of the Perverterprise looking like a kinky circus act in some Quentin Tarantino burlesque freak show.


Captain Quirk: I'm afraid so, Mr. Spook. I just hope that when we're down on the bridge, the Federation doesn't decide to hold one of their impromptu interplanetary televised teleconferencing calls. Where the whole galaxy will see us like this. Otherwise I'll have a terrible time trying to explain this to the Federation.


Mr. Spook: To say nothing of your girlfriend, Captain.


- A vampire novel chapter
  and Renfieldian episode
  of Star Dick: Voyages
  of The Starship Perverterprise
  written by Christopher
  during the period
  Friday December 18th
  to
  Monday December 21st
  2015.



Sent from my iPhone

Ziegevolk: A Poem

Ziegevolk:  A Poem


The lights are dim
reach for Brothers Grimm
a book on the antiquated shelf
right next to a plastic elf.


Open the volume of ancient lore
cast the spell and open the door
The woods are peopled with these Bluebeard folk
who eat amphibious toads while frogs croak
These goat people known as Ziegevolk
never appear in ads for Coke
unlike the jolly fellow in the red suit
they wear clothes black as chimney soot


These goat people are quite horny
their pick up lines really corny
They emit many pheromones
as well as bedroom groans.


On nights just before Christmas the Ziegevolk Titus arises
a Bluebeard full of surprises
He slays people left and right
with sword held in hand so tight
The snow is blood red
and many lay dead
not a living soul
by the village pole
no one left to pay the tavern bill
for these dead folk who drank their fill


Titus was a tavern keeper's worst nightmare
he slew the customers before they paid their fare
A bleak Christmas for all
thanks to Titus' gall.

-A Christmas poem
 about Ziegevolk
 written by Christopher
Sunday December 20th
2015.


Sent from my iPhone

Footprints In The Snow: A Poem

Footprints In The Snow: A Poem


Footprints in the snow
made not so long ago
they twist and turn
here, there, to and fro
by a beer drinking
bunny rabbit
with miles to go
what was in that smoke
I inhaled not so long ago?


-A poem written by Christopher
 Saturday December 19th
  2015.

Sleipnir: A Poem

Sleipnir: A Poem

From Sleipnir
to reindeer
what a path was trod
from flying steed of Odin the Norse god
to aerodynamic reindeer carrying a red suited bod
oh what metamorphoses have taken place
Joseph Campbell noted till he was blue in the face
but now we'll return to the beginning of the tale
just shortly after Jonah was snack for a whale
There was a Norse warrior Marlon Brando godfather like in appearance
whose body was so wide he needed plenty of room for clearance
he talked like he had marbles in his mouth
no one understood him from north to south
He made people offers they couldn't refuse
And if they did, they wound up with body parts they could no longer use.


Now there was a Norseman who pissed off this godfatheresque Chief
And doing so would cause him a lot of grief
Godfather told Loki to put a horse's head in his bed
Severed from his body, the horse would be dead.


Now Svadilfari was the name of this stallion
if he were a car, he'd get many miles to the gallon
Now Loki was a pervert of perverts beyond measure
his deeds would be something Caligula would treasure


When Loki saw Svaldifari was a handsome stud
his knees turned to jelly and his toes to mud
Loki turned himself into a mare
with long mane flowing hair
and they got it on in the buff- all naked and bare


So no horse's head
wound up in warrior bed
Instead Loki gave birth to an 8-legged horse
Commented Mr. Ed, "Of course. Of course."


And so Sleipnir was born
with 8 legs but no horn.


And so Odin rides this 8-legged steed across the skies
still seen by those on psychedelic highs.


-A poem written by Christopher
 Monday December 14th 2015
 where Norse mythology meets
 The Godfather Part One.


Sent from my iPhone

Broken Toys: A Poem

Broken Toys: A Poem

Broken toys on the floor
broken hearts at the table
A Christmas tree bare
Santa asphyxiated crawling down the chimney
dog dead from eating poisoned cookies on table by fireplace
cat dead from drinking poisoned milk by chair
flying reindeer on roof slain by NRA supporter mistaking them for Mexican immigrants
Grandma dead in the snow from hypothermia
Nobody answered the doorbell
All the family was in bed
Visions of Valium dancing in their head
So a Merry Christmas to all-
and to all- a good night!


-A dark Christmas poem
 written by Christopher
 Sunday December 13th
 2015.

The Christmas Tree: A Poem

The Christmas Tree: A Poem

This is the place where dreams come true
This is the time to say "Love you"
Those branches fair
hung with special care
angels and candy cane
socks on chimney lain
This is the night
where shines the light
that shatters winter darkness blues
to mark where angels sang Joyous news
"He is Come! He is come!"
so 'midst fairy and sugarplum
That neverending story begun
at Bethlehem long ago
lifts us up 'midst winter snow.


-A poem written by Christopher
 Friday December 11th
 2015.

The Unicorn

The Unicorn

In the Blue Canadian Rockies
of which Vera Lynn so magnificently sang
today Dracul Van Helsing wandered not on the banks of Lake Louise of which she sang
but a mountain stream near Banff
frozen with ice and covered by majestic white snow
The trees had now shed their autumn fashions of gold, red and rusty brown
in exchange for coverings of luminous white
which sparkled and sang silent songs of praise
in honour of Jack Frost their designer.


This fairy tale world seen in snow globes
now come alive in reality
The occasional deer walked by
and Dracul bowed in greeting to these majestic creatures.


They stared at him strangely
wondering why he didn't hold up small objects that flashed light
the way other creatures of his kind did when they saw us- we deer folk


But for Dracul- a glimpse of these majestic creatures with his eyes was enough
They would go as images to the camera that was his memory
No need to make idols of these gentle creatures and post their images on the walls of Temples called Facebook and Instagram
For they were not gods
The deer knew they were not gods
Only foolish creatures of Dracul's own kind fancied themselves gods
and thought they could impart this godhood by a Benediction of a flash of light shot forth by these tiny objects they carried.


And so Dracul walked along the path
which followed the snow covered brook
An occasional snow white covered rabbit hopped by and looked at him
They reminded him of his friend from many years back- Jack O' Hare
They looked, said Hello with their eyes and then hopped off their respective ways



Dracul knelt down by the brook
to glance at an open spot of flowing water
amidst the snow and the ice
He looked down at the reflection in the water
and that's when he saw it- the shiny white silver horn that sparkled and glistened despite the lack of sun in the wintery cloud swept day
He looked up
and there stood a horse of pure white
truly as white as the fallen snow.


And on its head a single horn
whose luminosity would outshine the magnificence of any jewel in any crown
The majestic creature looked at Dracul
And Dracul looked at the majestic creature.


Their eyes met
a reading of souls
The Unicorn felt Dracul's pain and sorrow
The thorns that had pierced his heart, soul and mind the past few years
And Dracul felt the Unicorn's love and peace.


There were some who said the Unicorn no longer existed
There were many who said the Unicorn never existed
There was one- the Transhumanist scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher
who thought he could through DNA manipulation
genetically create a Unicorn.


The foolishness of these fancies born of cynicism and sheer materialism
And the phantasms that might spring from the mind of megalomania and hubris
They were nothing when compared to the real thing-
the real Unicorn.


The Unicorn imparted his blessing, bowed and went on its way
Dracul walked on with a feeling
of what it felt the first Christmas Day.


-A Dracul Van Helsing poem
 written by Christopher
 Tuesday December 8th
 2015.


Sent from my iPhone

Jack O' Hare At The North Pole: A Poem

Jack O' Hare At The North Pole: A Poem


The rabbit's name was Jack O' Hare
he hopped on by a polar bear
He was in the land of midnight dark
listening to the cry of husky bark
His fur now white as Arctic snow
he was a hare who travelled to and fro
Now he was headed to the North Pole
Santa's toyshop his distant goal


He came to a town with lights aglow
that reflected off the midnight snow
the town's lights were made of bright candy cane
there was one that stood on every lane
He came to a barber shop with a barber pole
and said to himself "That is the North Pole"
He heard Santa's voice ringing across the snow
chortling a crisp snowy "Ho-Ho- Ho!"
They were words to which Kim Kardashian might take offense
even though her butt caused the Internet so many dents


Jack O' Hare said hello
While elves were feeling mellow
they sang a happy song
this little elvish throng
and Jack when he dropped off his Christmas list
stopped to give Mrs. Claus a merry kiss
This caused Santa to fly into a jealous rage
leaving open the reindeer cage
and the flying reindeer were off in a jiff
causing Santa to undergo another tiff


As Santa sent his lasso into the midnight sky
Jack O' Hare said good-bye
There was Santa on the moon
tripping over fork and spoon
as the cow mooed a cowshed tune.


-A Jack O' Hare poem
 written by Christopher
 Sunday December 6th
 2015.


Sent from my iPhone