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

Exclusion
_____

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

Half-life
___

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

Fire in the Sky
_

It always starts with fearful birds
Who desperate- call the rout.
Ranks of crowded feathers flock
A far-off loner shouts.

Then the quiet 'fore the storm,
A terror flavored zen-
Crashes into gunfire
Of doomed and distant men. 

The Rumbles crash relentless loud,
God moans atop her pyre!
Emissions make of each a rat.
The sky into a fire.

 - Yole the Poet

The Riddle of Fog
_________

 The Zone punishes certainty
More sure than death or tax.
Each path an educated guess,
Which tempts her waiting wrath.

From the teasing mists of morn'
To deepest clouds of sleep,
There is a thousand types of fog
For her to secret keep.

Slide unsure so careful like,
Or with a cocksure gait,
Matters little in the end- 
Our ending patient waits.

Which way then modern loner?
Was it a left or right?
The fire only burns so long
Before you're out of light.

  - Yole the Poet

On Friendly Loners
_____

There are many types of Loners found within The Zone:
Curious or greedy, driven ever to roam.
Some will reach for violence just as soon as for a drink,
Others laugh so heartily, and some will make you think.

Then there is a special class that shine anomalous;
Those friends that help carry the pain, who hold your precious trust.
These of course are valuable beyond what can be held,
The asset most rewarding, to broken spirit weld.

I can't describe the debt I owe to those who always choose
To brightly shine through deepest fog, even when they lose.
Who choose the path of righteousness right to their bitter end,
The reason I am still alive - are those I call my friends.

  - Yole the Poet

Svoboda's Truth
_____

There are many attitudes that jostle through The Zone;
Power shifts and tessellates, pain is often known.
Endlessly some faction grabs at power absolute,
And always over-estimate the thickness of their boot.

Not so easy dousing light that burns from deep within!
Freedom and equality, - respect for Zone we're in;
Bring your fascist parade to A W and see:
People stand united when it comes to being Free!

 - Yole the Poet

In the Palace of Culture
____

Whispering from far beyond the barrier and trees,
In the ruins of Pripyat, which few will ever see;
There lay in wait a pulsing dream, an end to every start;
A twisted pillar it is said, that pierces every heart.

The pious circle, writhe, and chant their prophecy of fire;
Out past the places words can tread, outside the tune of lyre.
No bass is low enough to reach, no tenor, pitch, or rhyme;
There at the center of her breadth, the tangled end of time.

  - Yole the Poet