He was the Vampire of Rap
his lyrics were crap
looked like Bela Lugosi takin' a nap
to him your blood was sap
he'll set the trap
knock off your ball cap
and give you a whap
then suck your blood
and all that crud
and you'll end up lookin' like mud.
-A rap song about a vampire gangsta rapper
written by Dracul Van Helsing, July 30th, 2009.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
Polar Bear's Summer Ride
Polar Bear's Summer Ride (a poem about Nathan De Burgh Polar Bear Private Eye written by Dracul Van Helsing, July 27th 2009)
It was steamy hot under the sun
as Nathan ate his hot dog bun
it was the middle of summer and the polar bear had headed south
now he had cotton candy stuck in his mouth
he was on the carnival grounds by the beach
as the roller coaster came to a screech
he got on and the sight of his massive white fur
turned his seat into a total blur
the ride started and off he went
like Superman emerging from Clark Kent
up and down
up and down
the roller coaster went round and round
Nathan's stomach didn't feel so good
it erupted like an overheated car hood.
Nathan got off the ride
with his guts gone
along with his pride
he wouldn't be ordering
any oysters on the side.
-written on July 27th, 2009
by Dracul Van Helsing
another poetic adventure featuring Nathan De Burgh Polar Bear Private Eye.
It was steamy hot under the sun
as Nathan ate his hot dog bun
it was the middle of summer and the polar bear had headed south
now he had cotton candy stuck in his mouth
he was on the carnival grounds by the beach
as the roller coaster came to a screech
he got on and the sight of his massive white fur
turned his seat into a total blur
the ride started and off he went
like Superman emerging from Clark Kent
up and down
up and down
the roller coaster went round and round
Nathan's stomach didn't feel so good
it erupted like an overheated car hood.
Nathan got off the ride
with his guts gone
along with his pride
he wouldn't be ordering
any oysters on the side.
-written on July 27th, 2009
by Dracul Van Helsing
another poetic adventure featuring Nathan De Burgh Polar Bear Private Eye.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Digging Up Saint Swithin On Saint Swithin's Day
Renfield R. Renfield had construction signs placed up all around the area of the High Altar in Winchester Cathedral.
That way no one would find his work suspicious as he used a jack hammer to cut through the floor.
Amadeus Emanon was walking back from having High Tea in a nearby hotel. The hotel had been the site of a famous cat who back in the late 1960s used to watch his own television program.
The cat would enter the sitting room at the same time each day, go over and turn the TV on, switch it to his favourite channel if one of the hotel guests had had the audacity to change channels and then the cat would sit back in his favourite chair (occasionally he would have to spat at one of the hotel guests if the said culprit had had the audacity to sit in his favourite chair) and watch his show.
The cat had thrown a major spaz attack 40 years ago around this time when hotel guests insisted on watching the launch of the Apollo 11 moon mission.
Amadeus Emanon had had tea and crumpets sitting in the long departed cat's favourite chair.
"What are you doing digging up this place?" Amadeus asked as he bit into a Devonshire cream and strawberry jam laced crumpet from his take-out bag.
"I'm hoping to dig up the body of Saint Swithin, Britain's patron saint of the weather," Renfield answered.
"Isn't such an act considered a desecration?" Amadeus asked.
"Oh, probably," Renfield continued digging, "but that's the wonderful thing about being a psychopath. One never feels compelled to justify one's actions."
"Why are you digging up Saint Swithin anyway?" Amadeus inquired.
"To bring him back from the dead and ask him to do something about the weather this year," Renfield explained, "I've been reading in the gutter press about some South African witch doctor who's been bringing people back from the dead this year including Jack the Ripper. Remember you and your friend Angelique Dumont saw the spirit of Jack the Ripper taking possession of that wax effigy of himself in that wax museum you visited last month. Anyways I'd ordered a copy of the book that witch doctor is said to use to bring people back from the dead. And now I'm going to try it out on Saint Swithin."
"Where did you get a copy of the book?" Amadeus asked, "from an occult book store?".
"No," Renfield shook his head, "I picked it up in the library of an Episcopalian seminary when I was visiting the U.S. last week."
"I believe today is Saint Swithin's Day," Amadeus noted.
"It is," Renfield spotted some bones, "this must be the old boy himself. That's why I'm digging up his body today- I thought it would an ideal time to do it."
"They certainly thought Saint Swithin's Day was a good day to open Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince in movie theatres worldwide," Amadeus wiped his chin, "although personally I don't know why they didn't pick Saint Vladimir's Day."
"When's Saint Vladimir's Day?" Renfield looked at Amadeus quizzically.
"Tomorrow, July 16th," Amadeus responded, "which incidentally is also Harry Potter's birthday. That's why I thought they might have chosen Saint Vladimir's Day to open his new movie."
"I thought July 31st was Harry Potter's birthday," Renfield replied.
"It's J.K. Rowling's birthday but in one of her books, I remember a reference to July 16th," Amadeus opened a can of Lipton's Iced Tea.
In the meantime, Renfield opened the book and invoked a spell over the bones.
"Nothing is happening," Renfield sounded disappointed.
"Perhaps," Amadeus explained, "you can't bring back spirits of the departed from Paradise or Heaven. Perhaps you can only summon them back temporarily from Hell or Purgatory."
"Did you say Purgatory?" Renfield gazed in shock at Amadeus.
"Yes," Amadeus sipped his iced tea.
"I don't believe in Purgatory," Renfield spat, "it goes against my Calvinistic instincts."
"But I thought you were an atheist," Amadeus added a lemon to his iced tea.
"I am," Renfield replied, "but I'm an atheist with Calvinistic instincts."
To be continued.
That way no one would find his work suspicious as he used a jack hammer to cut through the floor.
Amadeus Emanon was walking back from having High Tea in a nearby hotel. The hotel had been the site of a famous cat who back in the late 1960s used to watch his own television program.
The cat would enter the sitting room at the same time each day, go over and turn the TV on, switch it to his favourite channel if one of the hotel guests had had the audacity to change channels and then the cat would sit back in his favourite chair (occasionally he would have to spat at one of the hotel guests if the said culprit had had the audacity to sit in his favourite chair) and watch his show.
The cat had thrown a major spaz attack 40 years ago around this time when hotel guests insisted on watching the launch of the Apollo 11 moon mission.
Amadeus Emanon had had tea and crumpets sitting in the long departed cat's favourite chair.
"What are you doing digging up this place?" Amadeus asked as he bit into a Devonshire cream and strawberry jam laced crumpet from his take-out bag.
"I'm hoping to dig up the body of Saint Swithin, Britain's patron saint of the weather," Renfield answered.
"Isn't such an act considered a desecration?" Amadeus asked.
"Oh, probably," Renfield continued digging, "but that's the wonderful thing about being a psychopath. One never feels compelled to justify one's actions."
"Why are you digging up Saint Swithin anyway?" Amadeus inquired.
"To bring him back from the dead and ask him to do something about the weather this year," Renfield explained, "I've been reading in the gutter press about some South African witch doctor who's been bringing people back from the dead this year including Jack the Ripper. Remember you and your friend Angelique Dumont saw the spirit of Jack the Ripper taking possession of that wax effigy of himself in that wax museum you visited last month. Anyways I'd ordered a copy of the book that witch doctor is said to use to bring people back from the dead. And now I'm going to try it out on Saint Swithin."
"Where did you get a copy of the book?" Amadeus asked, "from an occult book store?".
"No," Renfield shook his head, "I picked it up in the library of an Episcopalian seminary when I was visiting the U.S. last week."
"I believe today is Saint Swithin's Day," Amadeus noted.
"It is," Renfield spotted some bones, "this must be the old boy himself. That's why I'm digging up his body today- I thought it would an ideal time to do it."
"They certainly thought Saint Swithin's Day was a good day to open Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince in movie theatres worldwide," Amadeus wiped his chin, "although personally I don't know why they didn't pick Saint Vladimir's Day."
"When's Saint Vladimir's Day?" Renfield looked at Amadeus quizzically.
"Tomorrow, July 16th," Amadeus responded, "which incidentally is also Harry Potter's birthday. That's why I thought they might have chosen Saint Vladimir's Day to open his new movie."
"I thought July 31st was Harry Potter's birthday," Renfield replied.
"It's J.K. Rowling's birthday but in one of her books, I remember a reference to July 16th," Amadeus opened a can of Lipton's Iced Tea.
In the meantime, Renfield opened the book and invoked a spell over the bones.
"Nothing is happening," Renfield sounded disappointed.
"Perhaps," Amadeus explained, "you can't bring back spirits of the departed from Paradise or Heaven. Perhaps you can only summon them back temporarily from Hell or Purgatory."
"Did you say Purgatory?" Renfield gazed in shock at Amadeus.
"Yes," Amadeus sipped his iced tea.
"I don't believe in Purgatory," Renfield spat, "it goes against my Calvinistic instincts."
"But I thought you were an atheist," Amadeus added a lemon to his iced tea.
"I am," Renfield replied, "but I'm an atheist with Calvinistic instincts."
To be continued.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Thriller Of A Prophecy?
Hyung Grace Kwan was back from Seoul, South Korea.
As for Martini the vampiress with amnesia, Dracul had sent her to a psychiatrist friend of his in Baltimore, Doctor Morgana Jones to try hypnotherapy to see if her memory could be regained that way.
It would cost a little extra of course since these would be night time sessions seeing as how Martini was a vampiress and everything.
Hyung sat in her silk robe and watched the Michael Jackson memorial service on television.
She dabbed her eyes quite a bit.
"He truly is gone," Hyung said when the service was over.
Dracul didn't answer.
When he was younger and even today, he had found those Thriller lyrics so haunting and in some way prophetic,
Darkness falls across the land,
the midnight hour is close at hand...
And whosoever shall be found
without the soul for getting down
must stand and face the hounds of Hell
and rot inside a corpse's shell.
Now that Michael Jackson had been called out of this world, Dracul couldn't brush off the feeling that somehow those Thriller lyrics spoken by Vincent Price were coming true.
To be continued.
As for Martini the vampiress with amnesia, Dracul had sent her to a psychiatrist friend of his in Baltimore, Doctor Morgana Jones to try hypnotherapy to see if her memory could be regained that way.
It would cost a little extra of course since these would be night time sessions seeing as how Martini was a vampiress and everything.
Hyung sat in her silk robe and watched the Michael Jackson memorial service on television.
She dabbed her eyes quite a bit.
"He truly is gone," Hyung said when the service was over.
Dracul didn't answer.
When he was younger and even today, he had found those Thriller lyrics so haunting and in some way prophetic,
Darkness falls across the land,
the midnight hour is close at hand...
And whosoever shall be found
without the soul for getting down
must stand and face the hounds of Hell
and rot inside a corpse's shell.
Now that Michael Jackson had been called out of this world, Dracul couldn't brush off the feeling that somehow those Thriller lyrics spoken by Vincent Price were coming true.
To be continued.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Gordon "The Black" Donnelly
Dracul Van Helsing received an email from Peter Whitstable of Interpol.
Whistable was to Interpol what the fictional Fox Mulder had been to the FBI back in the 1990s.
Whitstable was in charge of investigating the Paranormal and supernatural occurences for Interpol.
He was looked on by most of the international police organization as a flake.
The subject of the email was this:
Last Tuesday, Whitstable had run into the notorious South African witch doctor Sterling Makabo in Honolulu.
Whitstable had once again lost track of the witch doctor like he was prone to do.
Anyways, yesterday morning, Whitstable had been talking to a fellow Interpol officer- an officer who was a huge huge huge boxing fan.
Knew all sorts of boxing trivia.
It turned out this past Saturday night, there was a 4th of July boxing match in Seattle, Washington.
It was amateur night by which anyone could sign up to box if they wanted to.
And anyhow one man who called himself Gordon 'the Black" Donnelly knocked out all comers.
And there was no record anywhere of a Gordon "the Black" Donnelly having boxed before.
That is not in this century.
Or in the last century.
But said this Interpol agent Troy Leuker, there was an Irish-Canadian boxer called Gordon "the Black" Donnelly who won all sorts of boxing matches in Toronto and southern Ontario back in the 1880s.
Then he moved to San Francisco in the 1890s and won all sorts of boxing matches throughout California.
In 1899, he retired from boxing and moved to Honolulu where he married a native Hawaiian girl.
He died on June 6th, 1910.
Anyhow, according to Troy Leuker, this Gordon "the Black" Donnelly who cleaned up at the 4th of July boxing match in Seattle, Washington was the spitting image of the 19th Century boxer Gordon "the Black" Donnelly.
And wondered Whitstable, with Sterling Makabo (the witch doctor of whom it was said, he could raise the dead) in Honolulu a week ago, is it possible that this new Gordon "the Black" Donnelly was the old Gordon "the Black" Donnelly brought back from the dead?
To be continued.
Whistable was to Interpol what the fictional Fox Mulder had been to the FBI back in the 1990s.
Whitstable was in charge of investigating the Paranormal and supernatural occurences for Interpol.
He was looked on by most of the international police organization as a flake.
The subject of the email was this:
Last Tuesday, Whitstable had run into the notorious South African witch doctor Sterling Makabo in Honolulu.
Whitstable had once again lost track of the witch doctor like he was prone to do.
Anyways, yesterday morning, Whitstable had been talking to a fellow Interpol officer- an officer who was a huge huge huge boxing fan.
Knew all sorts of boxing trivia.
It turned out this past Saturday night, there was a 4th of July boxing match in Seattle, Washington.
It was amateur night by which anyone could sign up to box if they wanted to.
And anyhow one man who called himself Gordon 'the Black" Donnelly knocked out all comers.
And there was no record anywhere of a Gordon "the Black" Donnelly having boxed before.
That is not in this century.
Or in the last century.
But said this Interpol agent Troy Leuker, there was an Irish-Canadian boxer called Gordon "the Black" Donnelly who won all sorts of boxing matches in Toronto and southern Ontario back in the 1880s.
Then he moved to San Francisco in the 1890s and won all sorts of boxing matches throughout California.
In 1899, he retired from boxing and moved to Honolulu where he married a native Hawaiian girl.
He died on June 6th, 1910.
Anyhow, according to Troy Leuker, this Gordon "the Black" Donnelly who cleaned up at the 4th of July boxing match in Seattle, Washington was the spitting image of the 19th Century boxer Gordon "the Black" Donnelly.
And wondered Whitstable, with Sterling Makabo (the witch doctor of whom it was said, he could raise the dead) in Honolulu a week ago, is it possible that this new Gordon "the Black" Donnelly was the old Gordon "the Black" Donnelly brought back from the dead?
To be continued.
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