The Battle

Hello, my dears, back with a new installment in the Knight's story. This one is, as you can tell, prior to the one written almost a year ago (cut me some slack, I need inspiration to do this).
I am still undecided about the title of this part of the story. Although the working title is "The Battle", it tells far more than just that. anyway, enjoy, and tell me what title to put.

The Battle/The News

‘My sweet, the time to talk is done!’
He said, as her warning he spurned.
‘There’s a battle to be won!
The horns have sounded, the scouts returned.

The horse's been saddled and the hour’s come.’
As he left, she sat distraught.
Was he really marching to the sound of drums,
Without sparing her a thought?
………
Arriving at the Valley of Myth,
He set his sights on the barren fields,
Soon to be filled with
Bloodied swords and shattered shields.

As dawn was breaking,
On the horizon arose a forest of pikes.
He was focused, yet his heart was aching;
It wasn’t in his sword, swing or strike.

The battle grew more gruesome, and
His blood started to flow.
The blows he could withstand,
But the little red crystal started to glow…

General Gerald the Gray
Raised his hand and gave the sign.
As he turned around and fled the fray,
His pawns carried out the king’s design.

A crossbow bolt struck the knight’s back…
His sword fell from his grip…
His vision faded to black…
Her name parted from his lips…
…………
The General’s army returned victorious.
With a sneer, his king’s throne he approached.
‘My king, this day is glorious.’
‘And our plot?’ ‘Carried out beyond reproach.’

‘Very good, very good indeed!’ said the king, pleased.
‘Let the princess know. However, handle it with care.
Her spirit won’t break with ease.
And I don’t want to flaw a jewel so rare.’
…………
However, little did they know
The jester was ‘round the corner, listening in.
To his mistress he ran. ‘Bring I news of woe!
Alas, not I see where to begin…

My princess, in the woods is your heart’s sweet.
Probably dead, most likely dying.
By your father’s schemes, tasted his sword defeat.
Your ears do trust, not do I jest, nor I am lying.’

‘Be it so?’ she asked with her mouth agape.
In her room, by the pale moonlight,
She donned a pitch black cape,
To be hidden in the dead of the night.
…………
Moments later, the dark steed
Darted through the castle gates
And passed the guards at speed,
Its black-clad rider uttering: ‘Let it be not too late!’

Suicidal dream

Suicidal dream... I had one of those. Just one, a couple years ago. But it kept repeating itself over and over. Picture this: a very high place, me, on the very edge, and you, my dear, just a couple of feet away. I think you get where I'm getting from here. In a situation you would, undoubtably, hate.

The question is not whether I would jump or not (in my dreams, i don't have any control over my actions, i am just another spectator), but whether you would do something about it or not. Would you push me off the edge, or, should I jump, would you jump after me? In the simplest of terms, would you kill me? Let me die? Or would you save me?

This is a very old dream, but, somehow, it resurfaced recently. My little suicide dream. Thanks, in part, to you.

Fuck You!!!

I quit! I quit giving a flying fuck about you! I quit trying to be the nice guy! The one who cares about those around him. About his so called "friends" and about his so called "family". I don't have either. Both are different sides of what you might call "relationship". And I was supposed to be the Aspergerian one. So FUCK YOU!
You know, a "relationship" means its members need to take part in the interaction. All of its members need initiate it at some point.
Except for a few, I am the only one who calls. be it my "friends", be it my "family". Apparently, if I give a crap about either, I am seen as the weak one. Know what, I don't exist only when you need me to. My "friends" call me only if they need something, my "family" only call to brag. Well, congratz and fuck off!
So, let me reitterate it: FUCK YOU!

Letter to my unknown lover II

The world is a weird place. We thrive on wealth, bought happiness, fleeting moments of lust. Too big of a difference between what we read in the books and what really goes on in real life. Few people would accept someone who would be ready to sacrifice anything and everything for a purpose or, better yet, for a person. Hell, few would actually do that.

And yet, here I stand. Damned by my upbringing! Not that I don't want to stand by those words, but it seems to me that I am the last of a dying breed, a breed which was once noble. Is dreaming of a better world such a crime? Is trying to make it better, one little step at a time, such a friggin crime? In most eyes, yes. Because it doesn't put food on the table, because it doesn't make me rich, because of the fact that it follows values that have lost their meaning in today's world.

Usually, when they're young, girls dream of being princesses, of a knight in shining armour on a white horse. Well, they did in a time not too long ago. Nowadays, after doing a little bit of growing up, all they want is looks, money, seeing their name in lights, you name it. They won't go for respect or faithfulness, not to mention love. They usually return in the arms of those who hurt them, not those who would protect them, even from themselves, if need be.
You can tell me I am wrong, but you will have to prove it.

again, instead of a farewell, I leave you with these two.

Everything I do


and

I would do anything for love

Welcome to Hell

This poem comes right after the last one I posted, sometime in November. I know. It has been a while, but I made some changes to the series :P. It finally has an epic thread. There are some continuity flaws now, but it will be made clear soon.
So, without much ado, I just want to say:

Welcome to Hell

The Angel of Death came
To the laying couple;
Through her tears untamed,
It closed in, unseen and subtle.

The dying words
Parted from his lips,
Though they fell unheard,
For Death came to reap.

His final breath drawing nigh…
His heart at its last pound
Instead of soaring towards heaven, high,
His soul was dragged deep beneath the ground.

Awakening on the hard cold rock,
The accursed ruby still strung around his neck,
He heard the thunderous voice mock:
“Wake up, or I’ll have the birds your flesh peck!”

Out of the darkness
Came an withering man,
Garbed in a haggard grey dress,
And a crooked staff in hand,

Who, pointing down a path, proceeded to say:
“You are cursed, yet you’ve not fallen to temptation…
You’re intriguing, but you've no time to rest, so be on your way.
You need to take up your station.”

Rotten corpses and festering boils
Were what he saw on the gloomy path,
Tortured souls forced to toil
Or face their master’s wrath.

As he came across a bridge, he saw a castle
And afore it, a sudden drop;
The moat, bloody with heads of dead vassals;
Rivers of fire and clouds of ash adorned the top;

An image of his impending doom.
The boards of the bridge were terribly cracked,
But, before despair would have him consumed,
His eyes fell upon a burnt wooden Plaque:

Be forewarned, for here resides
Belial, one of the four crown princes of Hell
So take care of how you stride,
It may lead you to your knell.

A letter to my unknown lover

Hello, my dear.
It has been a while. Dunno why I am so reluctant to write this letter. Maybe because I know you might reject it, without even reading the first word. Or maybe I am just a little bit paranoid.

I wish I could curse the day I started to be conscious of my feelings. No one taught me where the limit should be. If I feel something for someone, be it love or hate, I tend to give it all to that particular feeling. I am a friggin decalibrated Libra - there is no middle way with me. No compromise...

Do I like you? The answer is, still, yes. Do you like me? I think so.
Do I love you? To some extent, yes. Do you love me? I honestly don't know. I certainly hope so.
Do I hate you? I might be tempted to say yes, just because you, my dear, make me see the dark side in me. But that is just bullshit. I want to be better, if not for my sake, for you.
I honestly don't wanna turn into this guy (search for Dr. Horrible for the full show, it is worth it).

The problem is, though you might be far away from me (be it in distance or in thought), you still are present in my dreams. While you may borrow more faces than one, you are still the same.

From my point of view, I will be always waiting, always hoping, always here, for you. Just as this guy.

Words to Remember

I have been watching a Koreean TV show for a couple of weeks now. It is called The Great Queen Seondeok, on TVR1. 

It is a historical drama and probably one of the best I have seen in a while. Not only it is about a culture I know very little about, but also the decors, costumes, actors and their impecable acting make it worth while. Too bad it is in it's final episodes. However, if you have the space needed on your hard drive, you can download it here.

So, back to what I was trying to say. One of the villains in this TV series, Lady Mi-Shil (depicted below), said something I wanted to share with you. Probably some of the great last words I heard in a loooong time.

The days you can fight,

            You can fight.

The days you can’t fight,

            You can defend.

The days you can’t defend,

            You can retreat.

The days you can’t retreat,

            You can surrender.

The days you can’t surrender,

            You can die and it all ends.

Hope you have the time and HDD space needed, cuz it is worth the trouble of downloading it. Enjoy

It's official. I am an Idealist

if you want to find out what you are, here is the test .

Your Keirsey Temperament Sorter Results indicates that your personality type is that of the Idealists, as a temperament, are passionately concerned with personal growth and development. Idealists strive to discover who they are and how they can become their best possible self -- always this quest for self-knowledge and self-improvement drives their imagination. And they want to help others make the journey. Idealists are naturally drawn to working with people, and whether in education or counseling, in social services or personnel work, in journalism or the ministry, they are gifted at helping others find their way in life, often inspiring them to grow as individuals and to fulfill their potentials. Idealists are sure that friendly cooperation is the best way for people to achieve their goals. Conflict and confrontation upset them because they seem to put up angry barriers between people. Idealists dream of creating harmonious, even caring personal relations, and they have a unique talent for helping people get along with each other and work together for the good of all. Such interpersonal harmony might be a romantic ideal, but then Idealists are incurable romantics who prefer to focus on what might be, rather than what is. The real, practical world is only a starting place for Idealists; they believe that life is filled with possibilities waiting to be realized, rich with meanings calling out to be understood. This idea of a mystical or spiritual dimension to life, the "not visible" or the "not yet" that can only be known through intuition or by a leap of faith, is far more important to Idealists than the world of material things. Highly ethical in their actions, Idealists hold themselves to a strict standard of personal integrity. They must be true to themselves and to others, and they can be quite hard on themselves when they are dishonest, or when they are false or insincere. More often, however, Idealists are the very soul of kindness. Particularly in their personal relationships, Idealists are without question filled with love and good will. They believe in giving of themselves to help others; they cherish a few warm, sensitive friendships; they strive for a special rapport with their children; and in marriage they wish to find a "soulmate," someone with whom they can bond emotionally and spiritually, sharing their deepest feelings and their complex inner worlds. Idealists are relatively rare, making up no more than 15 to 20 percent of the population. But their ability to inspire people with their enthusiasm and their idealism has given them influence far beyond their numbers. Idealists at Work Idealists, as a temperament, are passionately concerned with personal growth and development. They are naturally drawn to working with people and are gifted with helping others find their way in life, often inspiring them to grow as individuals and to fulfill their potential both on, and off, the job. Conscience looms large for you; in almost any situation, you feel compelled to measure yourself, other people, and the conditions of the environment against your personal morality. You have a tendency to perceive questions of meaning in even trivial matters and to worry about far-flung consequences of your actions. In your ideal job, you are free to pursue depth rather than breadth and quality rather than quantity. You feel rewarded when your projects and daily tasks allow you to immerse yourself in your process as deeply as you "need to" in order to satisfy your inner standards of quality. You are uncomfortable with the notion of authority per se and may avoid leading, as well as being led, either consciously or unconsciously. As you experience them, adhering to fixed roles and rules amounts to an abdication of your responsibility to exercise your conscience.

Of life and love

It took me a while, but I am back. My head kept spining because of certain people, whom shall not be named, for privacy's sake. 
And in this past month, I finally had time to put my mind in order. And it got me to this conclusion. If you know me, you can easily figure out that I feel love and I need love. However, due to my dear old grandpa (now deceased) I have a somewhat weird and misplaced conception of love. At least, how love is viewed nowadays. He was a protestant pastor and one his sermons kinda stuck to me: Here you have the text discussed. (Aici varianta in limba romana)
If you know me, you know I tend to obsess about some girls (how the hell do you think my poems got written?). However, my dear, it is not the person I am obsessed with, but with the image I project upon said person. Read the poems and find out what I am talking about.
I should say that I am in love with love itself. 
Should you strike me special, then my love is directed towards you. No matter how it is, accepted or rejected, my heart will still hold you close. It is not that I don't feel hatred towards people (God knows I have a mile long black list). But in matters of love, it's live and let live.
One more thing. Due to this perspective on life and love, I seem to be considered either a little Romeo (should I obsess over only one - fate included) either a little Casanova (should I chase multiple birds). Not my intention. Like I said, I need to feel the love described in the text I gave you a little earlier.

Now, I leave you with this clip and these words: And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is Love.

Nightwish - While your lips are still red