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Lizz's Lazy Lizzard Lounge

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Fri Apr 27, 2018 5:47 pm
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CaptainJack says...

poem 94

the lost knight looks down from the lonesome tower,
standing next to the ruler who is so equally locked
away, both wondering how they might escape here.

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Fri Apr 27, 2018 5:50 pm
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CaptainJack says...

poem 95

and still the knight's confederates do not search
through the right places, and the knight remains
locked away. when will this prison sentence end?
will it end by breaking down the door and running
through the wide open plains below? or shall this
knight have an appointment at the gallows?

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Fri Apr 27, 2018 5:52 pm
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CaptainJack says...

poem 96

a magnificent raven floats to the window sill,
searching for its master, knowing that they are
planted somewhere in the sky. the Knights have
searched all the land, but they have yet not
made it up so high.

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Fri Apr 27, 2018 6:17 pm
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CaptainJack says...

poem 97

the raven soon flies off with a paper tied to its leg,
now on the hunt for the three knights, who needed
to read this message. the bird flew so swiftly above
the treetops, searching and searching and hoping to
find them in time.

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Fri Apr 27, 2018 6:58 pm
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CaptainJack says...

poem 98

the abandon knight, soon takes it upon herself,
to escape from the lonely ancient tower. from
the cabinet came a silver blade and from the
wardrobe a suit, a covering and a cloak. a cloak
of red and white, war and innocence, the two
greatest symbols that one may possess together.

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Fri Apr 27, 2018 6:58 pm
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CaptainJack says...

poem 99

with new spirit the door swiftly went down and
at the base waited a loyal stead, ready at dawn
or dusk, whenever its mistress would make a
request. this was now a time of change.

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Sun Apr 29, 2018 8:20 pm
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CaptainJack says...

I present to you poem 100.
A story of Knights.

1. The Knights, all four confederates, soon find themselves on different sides of the same battlefield.
Of the three separate, there stands the Knight in the teal cloak, slowly walking to the other army’s side.
To call one person who was an ally, a separate army, is but a funny joke to make, but still they called it that.
For following her soon would be an army of darkness and though they had no knowledge of what she was running from, a chill ran through the air with every thought.
5. Across the battlefield, flowing between each side and sigh, there was a gruesome presence, that of some elder’s legend.
The person on the alternate side remains but one lone, one-man army, still running from something, as the horse galloped in long strides, through cursed underbrush and across wide streams.
Another comrade comes to face the other Knight, from the unicorn drawn cart out steps a Knight in a cloak of silver and a suit of steel.
Then the final lieutenant dismounts from his steed draped in yellow and straightens his cloak soaked in blue.
Now together, they all join in staring across to the other side, gathering the same wondering within their minds.
10. From the alternate side there stands the crimson and white Knight, now solely crimson with a splash of black, as her cloak flaps in the wind, torn and tattered.

The white, representing the innocence fighting the darkness, had easily lost and was now as red as the crimson and black as the night.
A flurry of questions still ran to either side, the Raven still circled from far, far above.
He was still clutching onto his not of warning, words written in the most horrible ink that is known to man.
In a moment of desperation, while locked away in a tower, a Knight had made use of a pricked finger for its inkwell.
15. It was supposed to be a turning point, a warning to the Knights approaching, to go away and leave this land. But it was a warning that was never delivered.
There is no time for warning now, as both sides run to each other and the ever-darkening clouds gather in the sky above.
They are preparing for a war, even if the people below on the ground have no recognition of such a need.
It will happen, no matter if these Knights of the most noble Green Room, are ready to fight or not.
They all stand united in the center of the field, the middle of the compass rose, each member looking out towards another direction.
20. For each Knight, they see an army, perhaps of allies, perhaps of enemies, too far away to distinguish who it may be.

Though they can know no identity for these people, they draw their swords and brandish their knives, ready to fight whatever may come their way.
Far off in the distance, there are four armies converging upon that singular point.
From the north and south, there comes another group of Knights, reinforcements for the stranded lieutenants.
They march through the solemn forest, with the hope that they may reach the battlefield in time, to save the stranded knights.
25. But from the west and the east, there come the shadow armies and the green room beasts, ready to slash and slay at the Knights.
There is still such a question of what is controlling these dark powers?
What controls the green room beasts, crude animal figures mixed with the vines of time?
What controls the shadow army, that projects the choking black smoke first as a screen, and then as a method of doom?
And who will be able to stop these powers, which have always existed and seem to have no end?
30. Those who just keep coming back, after each time they are slashed and burned down by the Knights, who try so hard to protect their lovely green room.

Here once more they come from the darkness, powered by the lack of Knights on the battlefields, and find that they may intertwine themselves in every aspect.
From far back in the kingdom of Yewis, there is a trumpeting call to all of the Knights and a group of squires shouting out “Huzzah!”
The Squires wish to fight too, though they have nothing more than simple training blades and a lone cannon.
The Knights have all gone off to fight a great war, and they must stay here, protecting the citizens from a stray boar.
35. The boar is a creature of darkness too, with not much difference from the gray smoke and the green beast.
The pack charges at the walls, trying to knock down the archers, hitting with broad shoulders and grunting in disgust.
They must not bring this wall down, we must protect it above all costs, we must.
The Squires chant to each other and curse under their breath, hoping not to be heard by the Commander, still lying in his chamber.
They question him. Why do you not ride out to your armies, why do you not ride out to show them that you are like them?
40. What else could they think of their commander but contempt, as the soldier lies sleeping, as others perish on the battlefield?

In these moments as the clouds now closed in above the castle, there was more doubt in the air than ever before.
And it was spreading among the soldiers, who did not know where it was that they could run to cover, there was nowhere that was safe for them.
No one knew of where they were going, the smoke clouds flew in every direction, so that they could not know of where they had been.
Perhaps, perhaps, there would be somewhere better up around the bend. Such hope, such hope, that came from these stranded guardsmen.
45. A little group of Squires, which had ventured out past the gates, believing that they may be able to reach the lieutenants.
They worked through this un-ending night, knowing that no matter what they would have to face, they must also get through to the other side.
This little band of fighters would go unidentified too, for there are so many names to be lost to a war.
They would eventually fall into some doom, like a tar pit, or be run through by a wild beast, but they would go on for the kingdom.
For the kingdom that they all swore to love and protect, to be willing to go on through the night for any means, is what a Knight should mean.
50. The after thought here may be to give them Knighthood, to reward total honor and guarantee that they will pass into a higher promised land.

While this group marches on and the commanders stand back to back in a field and the armies collide together, there is still the question of the COMMANDER.
Where is it that he has gone in this time of war, when all of his soldiers are out on the field, but he is still asleep in his den?
Was it one too many at the Ye Old Tavern the night before, that now prevents his highness from going to war?
The longer he waits in his high up abode, the more and more the villagers, will swear and call him a toad.
55. If he were just to make an appearance, open up the window and look out, it would certainly calm them all down.
The Squires cannot deal with riots from both sides, they try and they try, but all it does is hurt their pride.
When oh when will the end come in, we can fight more, but it is doubtful that we will win.
How will we manage to win, the COMMANDER keeps sulking, locked up in his tower within?
They know not the status of the other soldiers but it is yet another thing they wish not to know.
60. If there is an evil coming, if it has already beaten their army, where do they have to go?

The Squires down in the record hall, weep for a moment for the loss of their record keepers.
They still have no way of telling their loss, but like all the rest out there, they have assumed the worst.
They crack open the books and look for places to hide and supplies still that they are able to buy.
They can perhaps run to another land and look and look for another merry band.
65. They can dive into the storybooks, into the old and wild west, perhaps the Ravens will flock there to make their nests.
There is so much up in the air and they are trying to devote every care, but cannot create focus, when their commanders are still out there.
How could this ever happen to a kingdom as good as their's?
This question runs throughout all of their minds now, wandering what had been done and what had been failed to do.
70. Was it the fault of our commanders or the beasts or me or you?

Far back across the green lands, the battle wages on, but there's still much work to be done.
For long moments and stretches, the darkness was winning and overtaking the light.
It would capture the souls by choking them out, the Knights would not manage to escape a shout.
This was now mortal combat, not some rowdy teenager's bout.
75. But then there was a turning point, and there shown a light so bright, that is blinds both sides with its might.
Here comes the reinforcements that they were looking for, the ones that in and in pour.
Another cart and wagon pulled by unicorns and hundreds of trumpets ring.
From the cart, out steps another Knight of gold, a cloak that shines through the darkness and night.
From the wagon, their is someone equally right, wearing a blue cloak, but still not as blue, as the cloak soaked blue through.
With these lieutenants and the reinforcements they bring, there is another excuse to hear the trumpets ring.
80. They help to beat back the darkness into the bushes and cause for the sound of rejoice, among the armies of light.

But now there is another issue upon the horizon, as they look down at all the bodies on the field.
Who were these spirits that they have just slaughtered, the ones that rose from their graves to fight with and against them?
War takes so many lives and then leaves them without names, and it will always continue to do the same.
What else is war but a means to an end, and knowing that the evil will always come back again?
85. This war of shadows has been fought time and time again, trying to beat back the beasts and clear the Green Room again.
For now it may be clean, with stragglers here and there, but they always rise again to conquer the floor.
And climb up the walls, chasing the Squires, adding to the evil and trouble a bit more.
There are more vines to take care of, than just those who were clipped today.
And there will be so many more speeches by brave Knights to say.
90. This war will give them a leg up, and something to talk about for all of their days.

It was such a tough time and I do not fancy living through it again.
But it comes at the end of each month, this battle that we wage.
To clear out the Green Room on each holy and sacred review day.
When everyone finds they must go to war or be overtaken for sure.
95. That is how the story of our monthly war goes.
Well at least for the first five minutes or five hours or so.
I was there on the field with my comrades in arms, ready to die and be buried on the farm.
I cannot tell it with as much detail as them but I retain the name I had now and then.
I am the crimson knight, no longer a possessor of white.
One of the ones who was willing to fight from dawn, right on through the night.
100. And if you buy me and my crew another round of that brew, we'll tell the rest of the war stories to you.

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Sun Apr 29, 2018 8:22 pm
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Kaylaa says...

100 poems, Lizz! That's an amazing feat! Be proud of yourself, because you did NaPo three times over and then some.

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