Various poems I wrote as the character \"Yole the Poet\" in a STALKER Dayz roleplay server I have been obsessed with for a few years

The Fields of Cordon

In thirty some odd years of
transformation and decay,
The Zone we find is verdant;
And still the grasses sway.

Despite the terror witnessed here, 
where we meet our demise,
Beauty is not lost on us; 
Rads won\'t take our eyes.

What better place than Cordon, 
to put the point to sleep.
Enter her so ignorant of green secret she keeps. 
And through endless abandon,
where countless ghosts reside,
To the fields of Cordon every Stalkers heart is tied. 

 - Yole the Poet 

The Ghost of Yantar

Stalking around north of where 
The Eco\'s lay their heads
Is an angry geist in black, 
Or at least it is said.
Friend to the Free stalkers, 
And of poor loners too;
But cross this spirit carefully,
Or death come unto you.

But instead just follow him, 
Through shadows and decay,
Compliment his ways and sight, 
Hinder not his way;
Then with treasures endless
Will you be there adorned,
Those who make friends with the dead
Will never go unmourned.

 - Yole the Poet

The Zombie and the Snork

There was once a Stalker, who lost his brother here.
Came to search years later, to put away his fear. 
Military was knowledgeless of this certain recruit;
So this certain Stalker was lonely on his route.

One day he was traveling up north in ruined sprawl,
When he heard a growling, felt skin began to crawl.
He turned in disbelief to see his brothers vacant eyes;
Seen through dusty, rubber mask. 
With breath coming in sighs.

 The Stalker was then rooted there, 
As minutes rolled on by.
Ignored emission warning, 
And wept until he died.
But do not fret too much for him, 
For sometimes if you look,
You can find them mumbling round 
The northern hills and nooks. 

 - Yole the Poet

Through Leaves

Waiting perched in pregnant pause
For pursuer to pass;
Past the plants and foliage
And my protective grass.

Pondering in panic I,
Pilfer a petty peek;
Through leaves I spy death pirouette,
But puzzled, cease the seek. 

    - Yole the Poet

Demon Cleaner

To horrible significance,
We are pulled from the loam.
Prisoned by importance.
Cursed to circles roam.

The Zone waited so patiently
To show our folly there.
To flatten poisoned ego;
Make of circle a stair.

There is a kind of practice here,
As soul does twist and turn;
Through the empty ruins where
Every pretense burn.

   - Yole the Poet


Out here past the furthest cairns,
Even the dead don\'t sing.
There is only emptiness.
Drowns out everything.

Be careful where you wander in abandon so complete.
May find an eternity from which you can\'t retreat. 

 - Yole the Poet


Voices of empty buildings are so loud they go ignored.
An ever present spectre-song 
In every weathered board.
Unknowingly we\'re dancing to the designs of the dead.
The echos of our arrogance won\'t be muted with lead.

No amount of iodine can undo what\'s been done.
Can\'t deny it\'s purposeful, proof in every gun.
This half-life we are living, is still life after all;
Perhaps it\'s time we accept it. 
To symbiosis fall. 

   - Yole the Poet

North of Agroprom

There is north of Agroprom,
(At least north by north-east,)
A city shrouded by the trees
Where curious hearts feast.

There lay sprawling abandon
Labrynthine and old.
Where the nooks and corners wait,
Storied and untold.

There are loners if you look,
And the last flower too.
But up north of Agroprom,
That\'s Free-Stalker to you.
   - Yole the Poet