The Castle of Metus

In the forest of shadows, amidst the setting darkness,
A crumbling leaf echoes through the walls of fear.

As the horse hoofs dig a mark in the dirt,
The rain recedes into the shadows of draught.

A twig breaks, the crackling kindles a fire,
Drips the moist dew, as night hones the darkness.

An echo is heard, a low hum of sorrow,
The forest shrugs, a shiver runs down its spine.

The knight in clanging armour, raises his sword,
The knee buckles, a fall of the century ensues.

The dark night, clad in fear, raises its shield,
Against a sword sharpened to the grit of sorrow.

The knight fights the night, fear a fools bravado,
The clanging armour crashes again, shatter, the sound echoes.

A spear of nightmare, thrust deep into the flesh,
The knight raises his arm, the sleep is lost.

The clanging armour and silence of the shadows,
Clash into the night, as the castle of Metus trembles.

I fight myself, the shinning armoured knight,
I fight myself, the shadow donned night.

I fight, and rally to win the Castle of Metus.

The Gypsy Queen of the Cold Summers

'Winters I love,
Oh, but summer's just, but a rush'
She was poetic, alluring, and interesting.

'I like the snow,
The withering sun rays off the clouds'
A drizzle, a memoire to her silence.

'Can you gaze,
Into the far future, with tales of love?'
I shifted my gaze, winced a little.

'Whats the matter ma'am,
Why are you in pain, are the seasons alright'
She was ignorant, I could judge by her sight.

'I have questions,
Does the crystal ball have the answers?'
I winced again, troubled by the haze.

'The cold touch,
And memories, I wish they shattered'
She went a little pale, fear I guess.

War i see, she winced

The crystal ball shattered, wars I've seen,

She rose with an air of illusion.

The Friday of Life

As we see the sunset,
Into another horizon,
The days are numbered,
The nights un-numbered?

We talk an endless tale,
Legends and heroes play,
The victories of another life,
Is the end just another strife?

Scared of an unknown truth,
We sip on our iced tea,
Head banging our way to glory,
On a Monday, are we really sorry?

I see us parting ways,
On the fork road from the legends,
I made a poor choice you say,
But its just another Friday.

- Justin [Head banging to an unknown album]

What If...

It was one of those beautiful mornings,

When he last spoke, 

'Mother, I feel lonely', he had said,

My nature took over, 

'Your life, your rules', I finished the thread.

It was one of those beautiful mornings,

When the knock came to my doors,

A letter he held, between his fingers,

'Ma'am, your son, he killed himself'

The world crashed, 'What if', the thought lingers.

It was one of those lovely evenings,

I heard the ring of the phone,

The dipping sun, beauty of the twilight,

I ignored the constant ring, annoyed I cursed,

The twilight grew into a cold night.

It was one of those lovely evenings,

When my father opened the letter,

'I tried to talk, but there was no one home',

'I am lost', my father couldn't read no more,

The world crashed, 'What if',  I had just answered the phone.

It was one of those silent nights,

The ring broke my sleep, and I answered,

'Can I talk to my sister', he pled,

'She is asleep', I ignored with a retort,

The night was a bliss, into my dreams I fled.

It was one of those silent nights,

When her mother wrote,

'Your brother is dead', she would write,

My life stood still, and guilt played her tune,

'What if' I had woken her up, that night.

- Tim
Inspired by a post in 9gag

The Perfect Crime

Whats the perfect crime,
He asked, with a twinkle in his eye,
I was perturbed, taken aback,
Why do you ask? I chimed in,
Just a passing frenzy, was his reply.

I do not know, I retorted,
A lier you are, he giggled a tease,
Well, if you ask, I may,
But alas, I can't satisfy your quest,
Thats perfect,  a smile of unease.

What is that bothers me the most,
His question was to the point,
I guess, my indifference,
A smile played, as he stared,
I guess he was clairvoyant.

And I saw the reason behind his smile,
The perfect crime, he replied, 
Is the one you never get caught with,
And his smile turned grey,
As every happy memory of me died.

The perfect crime, is to forget you,
Erase your existence, his words I feared,
And before my eyes, I ceased,
I ceased to exist, with every laughter,
The perfect crime, he sighed, as I disappeared. 



- Tim

The Chronicles of Lady Death - Ya'el

"Oh righteous woman, of the tribe of Kenites,

Let me rest my head for a while,

Lest I be captured, tortured  and killed,

For my iron-bound chariots are stuck,

Stuck at the nature's mercy"

"Oh righteous woman, of the tribe of Kenites,

Let me rest my head for a while,

My foot is sore, and my enemies close to heal,

For my iron-bound chariots are stuck,

Stuck at the nature's mercy"

"Oh righteous woman, of the tribe of Kenites,

Let me rest my head for a while,

I, Sisera, the commander of Jabin's army, am lost,

For my iron-bound chariots are stuck,

Stuck at the nature's mercy"

"I am Ya'el, of the tribe of Kenites,

The first wed of Heber,

You may rest, oh stranger, I plea, you rest,

For a prophecy looms in my shadows,

And the plague of death in yours"

"I am Ya'el, of the tribe of Kenites,

The first wed of Heber,

A blanket for your tired soul, oh sleep,

For a prophecy looms in my shadows,

And the plague of death in yours"

"I am Ya'el, of the tribe of Kenites,

The first wed of Heber,

A jug of milk, for your parched throat, drink

For a prophecy looms in my shadows,

And the plague of death in yours"

"I Deborah, the judge of the mighty,

And prophetess of the lost, says,

Raise your army oh Barak, raise it against Jabin,

Victory will be yours, against the mighty Sisera,

A victory honoured by a woman."

"I Deborah, the judge of the mighty,

And prophetess of the lost, says, 

The night would be rough and nature cruel, and behold

Victory will be yours, against the mighty Sisera,

A victory honoured by a woman."

"I Deborah, the judge of the mighty,

And prophetess of the lost, says, 

Cannan is yours, yours for the taking, and descry, 

Victory will be yours, against the mighty Sisera,

A victory honoured by a woman."

The hour struck late, and the prophecy fulfilled,

As sleep swept in Sisara's dreams,

A tent peg, in one hand, and mallet in other,

A strike, and two, victory followed,

As Ya'el drew the peg into Sisara's temples.

Ya'el (Jael) - Wiki