dae-staebell - Hello Poetry

Here I am in comatose Damnedest man I did so boast Paralyzed from fear I swore Succumbing to eerie voices galore Here they whisper, there they shout Forgotten longings in endless bout Obsidian spires do so climb Monoliths rising to the ashen sky Molten magma in a blazing doom Had I one wish it would be for you Blind and petrified I do become Only to hear a chilling song Come back to me so she says Or you will be stuck in choicely dread She says so true and warningly But I could detect a wanton glee Had I a voice I would so cry Come save me darling my dear divine I had not the eyes to see Barren wastelands singing to me Thuds and croons echo all around Was it a corpse or am I nightmare bound Ever so close they are I feel So I thought to pray but my legs fear to kneel Abandon all hope they scream and plea Singing Devils wrath is waiting on me When I see him I will hold true And tell the Devil to take her too

0

May 14, 2025

May 14, 2025 at 11:51 AM UTC

dae-staebell

Devil Take Her Too

Here I am in comatose Damnedest man I did so boast Paralyzed from fear I swore Succumbing to eerie voices galore Here they whisper, there they shout Forgotten longings in endless bout Obsidian spires do so climb Monoliths rising to the ashen sky Molten magma in a blazing doom Had I one wish it would be for you Blind and petrified I do become Only to hear a chilling song Come back to me so she says Or you will be stuck in choicely dread She says so true and warningly But I could detect a wanton glee Had I a voice I would so cry Come save me darling my dear divine I had not the eyes to see Barren wastelands singing to me Thuds and croons echo all around Was it a corpse or am I nightmare bound Ever so close they are I feel So I thought to pray but my legs fear to kneel Abandon all hope they scream and plea Singing Devils wrath is waiting on me When I see him I will hold true And tell the Devil to take her too

28

I fell in head over heels in love on two occasions and never again after. The wiser me part of me probably wouldn't call it love. He probably call a fickle and fleeting naive infatuation. The other part of me, the one that hasn't been completely drowned in sorrow and spite, stays ever the romantic. I remember the first time. The memory of it leaves a bitter taste in mouth, like a mouthful of copper pennies. It's almost not worth mentioning except that she shattered my innocent heart. The pain of love is a funny thing. It is like intentionally putting your hand over a scorching flame and then retreating back in shock because such an action actually hurt like somehow we, as kids, thought it wouldn't. Upon the heartbreak what anyone feels immediately is the sense of betrayal. It's ironic how that goes hand in hand with love. Romantic tragedy. To trust a love so passionately, so deeply, then to look down at your chest a find a point of a stiletto driven through it by someone you never thought could have the courage to do so. That small little sinister muse. I guess I should thank her really because without her I wouldn't have began to write as I do now. A lot of previous readers of my works will realize there's quite a few recurring themes: death, despair, betrayal, things we lock in the deepest corners of ourselves and throw away the key. Now the second time is truly the most grand, the most vulnerable, the most upsetting. See, I met this raven haired girl. God was she truly beautiful. Mesmerizing as it were. She is often the subject in some of my poems. Sometimes as aptly refer to her as the raven hair girl and other times she's the sole woman in my works. She was truly a muse for me. It was as if I was staring a mirror image of me. Our common interests lined up like constellations. We were attracted to the darker things in life. Enjoying black humor, tv shows, you name. We even shared the same favorite work: Edgar Allan Poe's Dream-Land. That's where I drew her in and she me. I never wrote anything before to anyone until her. I gifted her a poem you see, she has it framed and on her night stand. I do not know if it is still there but I imagine it is. Nothing can move a person more than words and I guess I'm a bit more old fashion than most. The conversations we had went from dusk til dawn and so did the video chats. It was one of those occasions where you lost track of time, where your eyes start failing but you fear going to sleep because you don't know if it's all some fantasy you conjured up but then one day it just stopped. It was abrupt. No reason or rhyme. I say that but I'm sure there was a reason. I'm a simple man not an idiot. The day it happened I woke happier than most because it was finally a time where I thought she'd be the one. I was so sure of it. Oh how foolish I was. She disappeared, distanced herself, vanish like a ghost. Like a magic trick. An illusion. One moment I was in heaven, the next I'm falling from the sky like the Devil himself except there was nothing to stop me from falling. I ask myself what I could've done different and replay ever conversation over and over again in my head like some lunatic. I was always thinking there had to had to have been something wrong with me. The pain I felt, it stayed and is still here. Itching underneath my skin. It wasn't a physical pain you see but my body surely felt it. Draining and persistent. Almost like a parasite or leech even. She still haunts me but it is not a ghost I would soon part with because you see while im becoming madder by the hour it also inspires my madness. It is both damning and bliss. You see I am trapped in sort of a perpetual limbo, a limbo of...madness but I suppose we are all a bit mad here.

0

Feb 15, 2017

Feb 15, 2017 at 11:29 PM UTC

dae-staebell

Limbo of Madness

I fell in head over heels in love on two occasions and never again after. The wiser me part of me probably wouldn't call it love. He probably call a fickle and fleeting naive infatuation. The other part of me, the one that hasn't been completely drowned in sorrow and spite, stays ever the romantic. I remember the first time. The memory of it leaves a bitter taste in mouth, like a mouthful of copper pennies. It's almost not worth mentioning except that she shattered my innocent heart. The pain of love is a funny thing. It is like intentionally putting your hand over a scorching flame and then retreating back in shock because such an action actually hurt like somehow we, as kids, thought it wouldn't. Upon the heartbreak what anyone feels immediately is the sense of betrayal. It's ironic how that goes hand in hand with love. Romantic tragedy. To trust a love so passionately, so deeply, then to look down at your chest a find a point of a stiletto driven through it by someone you never thought could have the courage to do so. That small little sinister muse. I guess I should thank her really because without her I wouldn't have began to write as I do now. A lot of previous readers of my works will realize there's quite a few recurring themes: death, despair, betrayal, things we lock in the deepest corners of ourselves and throw away the key. Now the second time is truly the most grand, the most vulnerable, the most upsetting. See, I met this raven haired girl. God was she truly beautiful. Mesmerizing as it were. She is often the subject in some of my poems. Sometimes as aptly refer to her as the raven hair girl and other times she's the sole woman in my works. She was truly a muse for me. It was as if I was staring a mirror image of me. Our common interests lined up like constellations. We were attracted to the darker things in life. Enjoying black humor, tv shows, you name. We even shared the same favorite work: Edgar Allan Poe's Dream-Land. That's where I drew her in and she me. I never wrote anything before to anyone until her. I gifted her a poem you see, she has it framed and on her night stand. I do not know if it is still there but I imagine it is. Nothing can move a person more than words and I guess I'm a bit more old fashion than most. The conversations we had went from dusk til dawn and so did the video chats. It was one of those occasions where you lost track of time, where your eyes start failing but you fear going to sleep because you don't know if it's all some fantasy you conjured up but then one day it just stopped. It was abrupt. No reason or rhyme. I say that but I'm sure there was a reason. I'm a simple man not an idiot. The day it happened I woke happier than most because it was finally a time where I thought she'd be the one. I was so sure of it. Oh how foolish I was. She disappeared, distanced herself, vanish like a ghost. Like a magic trick. An illusion. One moment I was in heaven, the next I'm falling from the sky like the Devil himself except there was nothing to stop me from falling. I ask myself what I could've done different and replay ever conversation over and over again in my head like some lunatic. I was always thinking there had to had to have been something wrong with me. The pain I felt, it stayed and is still here. Itching underneath my skin. It wasn't a physical pain you see but my body surely felt it. Draining and persistent. Almost like a parasite or leech even. She still haunts me but it is not a ghost I would soon part with because you see while im becoming madder by the hour it also inspires my madness. It is both damning and bliss. You see I am trapped in sort of a perpetual limbo, a limbo of...madness but I suppose we are all a bit mad here.

1

I hear it as clearly as my madness will let me That antiquated rumble that seems infinite Tormenting as if pleading for an answer I have listened for what seems like a lifetime My curiosity always fearing To go further than my helpless ears But my feet are not my own anymore I feel most possessed As if my body is being beckoned My feet move with a courage that is not my own I have come to understand With every step I grow more religious Wondering if a healthy prayer Would give me the mental fortitude To confront what was at the end of this dreadful journey My feet have trudged for what feels like an eternity Always hugging this gruesome cliff side I have repented enough for two lifetimes But it is not enough to break these shackles The call becomes more deafening the closer I go Ever more appealing and atrocious And the more I listen The more I can feel an eldritch presence Ethereal and hauntingly decadent Whatever this abomination is it has cast its line on me It's fetid hooks sinking deep And I feel as naked as a prior without his crucifix As the hill angles ever so slowly downward I feel my trepidation grow tenfold There is a place is stories told Handed down generations About an accursed grotto Before there was a church There was a church of another kind Worshipping older gods than the ones I know They say it was a fanatical cult Made up of local townsfolk Ever so zealous and faithful Who sacrificed and mutitlated their kin To appease their gods Other always thought it a wives tale Meant to terrify pesky children But I knew better Ever since hearing that faint invasive call Old gods or no I make peace with my end drawing near I steel myself and walk vigilant to my death Down these carved out stone steps But though I thought myself a warrior Nothing could prepare me for what lied ahead Into the decrepit grotto I go ever blind With the only illumination my faint fading soul And with that fading it all goes black And I step further into this abyss My fickle soul left me As if it was already reaped And what I hear next is the true Calling of the Deep

0

Dec 12, 2016

Dec 12, 2016 at 11:28 PM UTC

dae-staebell

Call of the Deep

I hear it as clearly as my madness will let me That antiquated rumble that seems infinite Tormenting as if pleading for an answer I have listened for what seems like a lifetime My curiosity always fearing To go further than my helpless ears But my feet are not my own anymore I feel most possessed As if my body is being beckoned My feet move with a courage that is not my own I have come to understand With every step I grow more religious Wondering if a healthy prayer Would give me the mental fortitude To confront what was at the end of this dreadful journey My feet have trudged for what feels like an eternity Always hugging this gruesome cliff side I have repented enough for two lifetimes But it is not enough to break these shackles The call becomes more deafening the closer I go Ever more appealing and atrocious And the more I listen The more I can feel an eldritch presence Ethereal and hauntingly decadent Whatever this abomination is it has cast its line on me It's fetid hooks sinking deep And I feel as naked as a prior without his crucifix As the hill angles ever so slowly downward I feel my trepidation grow tenfold There is a place is stories told Handed down generations About an accursed grotto Before there was a church There was a church of another kind Worshipping older gods than the ones I know They say it was a fanatical cult Made up of local townsfolk Ever so zealous and faithful Who sacrificed and mutitlated their kin To appease their gods Other always thought it a wives tale Meant to terrify pesky children But I knew better Ever since hearing that faint invasive call Old gods or no I make peace with my end drawing near I steel myself and walk vigilant to my death Down these carved out stone steps But though I thought myself a warrior Nothing could prepare me for what lied ahead Into the decrepit grotto I go ever blind With the only illumination my faint fading soul And with that fading it all goes black And I step further into this abyss My fickle soul left me As if it was already reaped And what I hear next is the true Calling of the Deep

56

Down by the weeping willow Where in eves of twilight Forlorn souls wander Searching and seeking Their material surrogates Even calling out to lovers Dancing around the tree Like a carousel of desperation Ghastly apparitions chasing echoes In their pearl gowns From afar it almost looks like a festival In the sloping dewy grass You can even see Where curiosity treads and love falters Almost as if hesitant Intimidated by phantom temptation Yet new blades of folded grass apparent Creeping ever further Slowly, steadily, in trepidation Mesmerized by the eerie blue fireflies She said to come join her Beckoning me in my dream To join her and the company she keeps Begging me to come hemp in hand And enjoy the carousel Down by the weeping willow

0

Oct 5, 2016

Oct 5, 2016 at 5:34 PM UTC

dae-staebell

Weeping Willow

Down by the weeping willow Where in eves of twilight Forlorn souls wander Searching and seeking Their material surrogates Even calling out to lovers Dancing around the tree Like a carousel of desperation Ghastly apparitions chasing echoes In their pearl gowns From afar it almost looks like a festival In the sloping dewy grass You can even see Where curiosity treads and love falters Almost as if hesitant Intimidated by phantom temptation Yet new blades of folded grass apparent Creeping ever further Slowly, steadily, in trepidation Mesmerized by the eerie blue fireflies She said to come join her Beckoning me in my dream To join her and the company she keeps Begging me to come hemp in hand And enjoy the carousel Down by the weeping willow

26

Dear Stranger, I remember the day I first saw you. An ordinary autumn day spent doing menial tasks and then I saw you. It felt like time stood still in that moment. Through my eyes you moved in slow motion. You were probably doing menial tasks too but you look so beautiful doing it. In the moment it took you to walk 10 yards I already imagined what life would be like with you. I wondered what you look like smiling. I wondered what you sounded like laughing. I wondered what it might be like to hear you say,"I love you," or what kind of things I would have to do to hear you say it and then you looked straight ahead and our eyes met for a split second, it felt like an eternity. I never looked anyone straight in their eyes before and held their gaze. I remember everything. How could I forget your raven black hair? The way it fluttered in the breeze almost as if to torment my obsidian soul. The blush on your cheeks, the way they glimmered. The way your high cheeks complimented your nose. The way your cheeks curve into your jawline and the way it shot devilishly to your slender chin and those lips, God those lips. I remembered every curve, every inch of you as if you were place here in front of me to torture my wayward soul. It was like I was gazing at a baroque sculpture perfectly preserved and in exquisite detail. Something to marvel at from a far and never in close proximity for the fear that even my breathing should erode the beauty I see but yet I wondered what your touch was like. Would it be one of Midas or the state of the Gorgon Medusa? Even just the mention of your touch should have its own story, to be written down and read as a work of modern literature. You even walked towards me with such purpose. Shoulders back and held head high, like a warrior, a shield maiden. And for a moment, a moment no longer than what it took the wind to blow a leaf, I shook the petrified kid in me and worked the courage to smile. A small smile, no more than what would seem like a grin to others. I still held your gaze but when I say it was like being mesmerized by a shewolf it wouldn't do it justice, it was almost a tame ferocity but still feral in its nature. I smiled at you, god did I smile and god was I ever ****** for it. It was like sailing straight into a maelstrom and I braced. I braced myself the hardest I could in that single second. And that was when I broke. Oh did I break ever so beautifully. You smiled back and it ended this war of attrition I was having with myself. That smile was the crescendo of the day, so silent but so visceral and so deafening. By all accounts it was probably just a normal day for you but for me that was a moment I'll relive over and over. How serene and peaceful I became after. I became solemn, I became happy, and I was driven mad. I wish I could explain it. Star struck, yes that is the word. I was star struck.

0

Sep 20, 2016

Sep 20, 2016 at 11:57 AM UTC

dae-staebell

A Love Letter

Dear Stranger, I remember the day I first saw you. An ordinary autumn day spent doing menial tasks and then I saw you. It felt like time stood still in that moment. Through my eyes you moved in slow motion. You were probably doing menial tasks too but you look so beautiful doing it. In the moment it took you to walk 10 yards I already imagined what life would be like with you. I wondered what you look like smiling. I wondered what you sounded like laughing. I wondered what it might be like to hear you say,"I love you," or what kind of things I would have to do to hear you say it and then you looked straight ahead and our eyes met for a split second, it felt like an eternity. I never looked anyone straight in their eyes before and held their gaze. I remember everything. How could I forget your raven black hair? The way it fluttered in the breeze almost as if to torment my obsidian soul. The blush on your cheeks, the way they glimmered. The way your high cheeks complimented your nose. The way your cheeks curve into your jawline and the way it shot devilishly to your slender chin and those lips, God those lips. I remembered every curve, every inch of you as if you were place here in front of me to torture my wayward soul. It was like I was gazing at a baroque sculpture perfectly preserved and in exquisite detail. Something to marvel at from a far and never in close proximity for the fear that even my breathing should erode the beauty I see but yet I wondered what your touch was like. Would it be one of Midas or the state of the Gorgon Medusa? Even just the mention of your touch should have its own story, to be written down and read as a work of modern literature. You even walked towards me with such purpose. Shoulders back and held head high, like a warrior, a shield maiden. And for a moment, a moment no longer than what it took the wind to blow a leaf, I shook the petrified kid in me and worked the courage to smile. A small smile, no more than what would seem like a grin to others. I still held your gaze but when I say it was like being mesmerized by a shewolf it wouldn't do it justice, it was almost a tame ferocity but still feral in its nature. I smiled at you, god did I smile and god was I ever ****** for it. It was like sailing straight into a maelstrom and I braced. I braced myself the hardest I could in that single second. And that was when I broke. Oh did I break ever so beautifully. You smiled back and it ended this war of attrition I was having with myself. That smile was the crescendo of the day, so silent but so visceral and so deafening. By all accounts it was probably just a normal day for you but for me that was a moment I'll relive over and over. How serene and peaceful I became after. I became solemn, I became happy, and I was driven mad. I wish I could explain it. Star struck, yes that is the word. I was star struck.

2

My Dearest Black Dahlia Stumbling in these neon streets Waiting to be torn in two Be my carrion pin up model Adorned in imprinted diamonds With porcelain skin icy stale Murderous glamor Gleaming and serene Posing like a minx Half here and half there A hauntingly mesmerizing woman Should I be fearful Or should I be in love I suppose this is maddening But I am smiling all the while Bright and all Irish Welcome to Hollywood My Dearest Black Dahlia

0

Aug 29, 2016

Aug 29, 2016 at 11:35 AM UTC

dae-staebell

My Dearest Black Dahlia Revisited

My Dearest Black Dahlia Stumbling in these neon streets Waiting to be torn in two Be my carrion pin up model Adorned in imprinted diamonds With porcelain skin icy stale Murderous glamor Gleaming and serene Posing like a minx Half here and half there A hauntingly mesmerizing woman Should I be fearful Or should I be in love I suppose this is maddening But I am smiling all the while Bright and all Irish Welcome to Hollywood My Dearest Black Dahlia

18

Another asphalt kiss A black tarp love affair Creatures of the night Roaming this neon dream Filthy but gilded in glamor An air of desperation Hangs like two forlorn lovers Will it be a night of romance Or do their pleas pass you by? A rose to be forsaken For its thorns are many Or will you succumb to temptation No matter how fraught with peril? Is not love but a wondrous con artist Casting your gaze elsewhere To cast its hand into your pocket? Choose wisely wanderer These decrepit streets take no prisoners

0

Aug 20, 2016

Aug 20, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC

dae-staebell

Neon Dreams

Another asphalt kiss A black tarp love affair Creatures of the night Roaming this neon dream Filthy but gilded in glamor An air of desperation Hangs like two forlorn lovers Will it be a night of romance Or do their pleas pass you by? A rose to be forsaken For its thorns are many Or will you succumb to temptation No matter how fraught with peril? Is not love but a wondrous con artist Casting your gaze elsewhere To cast its hand into your pocket? Choose wisely wanderer These decrepit streets take no prisoners

18

Dreaming a dream so dreary Upon a bed of fire lilies Where fear flocks and sorrows sleep To a grove abandoned where she weeps Dreaming a dream so dreary Upon callous thoughts so weary Clasped in a white veil Seeing maroon on a visage pale Dreaming a dream so dreary Upon a cries in a clearing Silent shrieks that haunt me I find A walking corpse in pearl delight Dreaming a dream so dreary Upon a nightmare without meaning To and fro wolves do roam on the rim A hunt in this abyss for my kin Dreaming a dream so dreary I smell familiar blood and feel weary A mangled corpse lies in slumber What a nightmare, what a curse Dreaming a dream so dreary A solitary hunt so eerie Hunger sated and thirst quelled Will I ever wake or is this my hell?

0

Jun 7, 2016

Jun 7, 2016 at 2:17 PM UTC

dae-staebell

Dreaming a dream so dreary

Dreaming a dream so dreary Upon a bed of fire lilies Where fear flocks and sorrows sleep To a grove abandoned where she weeps Dreaming a dream so dreary Upon callous thoughts so weary Clasped in a white veil Seeing maroon on a visage pale Dreaming a dream so dreary Upon a cries in a clearing Silent shrieks that haunt me I find A walking corpse in pearl delight Dreaming a dream so dreary Upon a nightmare without meaning To and fro wolves do roam on the rim A hunt in this abyss for my kin Dreaming a dream so dreary I smell familiar blood and feel weary A mangled corpse lies in slumber What a nightmare, what a curse Dreaming a dream so dreary A solitary hunt so eerie Hunger sated and thirst quelled Will I ever wake or is this my hell?

24

A love so forlorn and so lost A hopeless and helpless love Hunters poach her heart While I slumber behind like a watchdog Should she stray I nudge and guide Trailing on her skirt tails in the moonlight A fools requiem chasing a lunar phantom Dreamer's scenery, doomed to forget I pray for empathy but do not embrace it Resolve long from forgotten Ever the faithful companion As I trail behind in field of forget me nots Collecting the pieces To put her back together again

0

Apr 9, 2016

Apr 9, 2016 at 9:26 PM UTC

dae-staebell

The Watchdog

A love so forlorn and so lost A hopeless and helpless love Hunters poach her heart While I slumber behind like a watchdog Should she stray I nudge and guide Trailing on her skirt tails in the moonlight A fools requiem chasing a lunar phantom Dreamer's scenery, doomed to forget I pray for empathy but do not embrace it Resolve long from forgotten Ever the faithful companion As I trail behind in field of forget me nots Collecting the pieces To put her back together again

14

Paper mache hearts Origami bodies Folded in cranes Molded into what ought to be Fear in flight Wings beating endlessly Trying to fly To places we will never reach Our hopes torn Turning into scraps of vellum Drifting down lightly On to brittle phellem Thoughts become calligraphy Ever so beautiful But antique To remind us we are frail In this paper mache world

0

Jan 30, 2016

Jan 30, 2016 at 2:48 PM UTC

dae-staebell

Paper Mache World

Paper mache hearts Origami bodies Folded in cranes Molded into what ought to be Fear in flight Wings beating endlessly Trying to fly To places we will never reach Our hopes torn Turning into scraps of vellum Drifting down lightly On to brittle phellem Thoughts become calligraphy Ever so beautiful But antique To remind us we are frail In this paper mache world

17