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Dae Staebell Jan 2016
Once upon a time
There was a Girl and a Wolf
One in hunger
The other on the brink of fear
The girl shivers and cries
Collapsing as her legs go numb
She wipes away her tears
And she clears her eyes
To see glowing eyes at the forest fringe
A place she was told never to venture
For a she-wolf roamed that wood
One with no pack
One that her grandfather told stories of
One whose hunger could never be satiated
She has heard the horrible tales
Ones that caused a tradition
To spring in fear of it
It was said the beast could never die
There was a chilling curse
Set on that tangled wood
That caused this she beast to be immortal
But the little one had to go
A child's curiosity is never quelled
So she edged ever so close
Leaving a trail in snow
Battered velvet dress
Starting to tear
Fingertips moving at a crawl
The eyes at the edge have lost the sparkle
She can see the beasts battered fangs
No growl, no howl, no sound at all
The white wolf did not pounce
Not like one should
The child had prepared
Steeled her fragile heart
Waiting for fangs to puncture
Moving her small hand ever so slow
She reached under her frozen dress
Revealing her father's ****
Laying it the edge of the wood
To feed the she-wolf
The wolf's eyes never blinked
Frozen as the weather itself
So they sat gazing at one another
The girl gazed and gazed
Inside this creatures black eyes
She found the reason
Why the wolf patrolled the edge of the wood
Like a fleeting shadow
Inside that wolf was not a beast
But a woman instead
Beautiful she was
That brought tears to men's eyes
This princess of sorts
Was the Lord's daughter
Who also sought what the forest covered
But her curiosity became her everlasting doom
She patrols this wood
To protect ones outside the fringe
    From the curse that transformed her
Dae Staebell Sep 2016
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.
Dae Staebell Dec 2015
She veils her face
In sinister shades
Powdered porcelain
Eyes of jade

Raven hair
My focus ensnared
Jet black obsidian heart
My lips does she part

Vicious and vile
With a serpentine smile
Cunning and cruel
C'est la vie, a bid adieu
Dae Staebell Dec 2016
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
Inspired by Lovecraft
Dae Staebell Jan 2018
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 mute I become
Only hearing a chilling song
Come back to me so she says
Or you will be stuck 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 a tongue nor 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 legs would not kneel
Abandon all hope they scream and plea
Singing Devils wrath is waiting on me
When see him I will hold true
And tell the Devil to take her too
Dae Staebell Jun 2016
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?
Dae Staebell Jan 2016
Dreaming desperately
In the hope I may find you there again
Girl who is nameless
But I can not bring myself to name you

I go to sleep
Making sure you will be there
To drive off the night terrors
You will won't you, girl who is nameless

Dreaming desperately
In the hope I may find you there again
Girl who is nameless
But I can not being myself to name you

I can not remember your name
But I remember your face
Your hair, your laugh, your smile
Soothing my mind girl who is nameless

Dreaming desperately
In the hope I may find you there again
Girl who is nameless
But I can not being myself to name you

I wake up knowing I might forget
But try frantically not to
As you might fade into nothingness
Please stay with me girl who is nameless

Dreaming desperately
In the hope I may find you there again
Girl who is nameless
But I can not being myself to name you

You are all I have in these auspicious nights
Where my thoughts linger
To become haunting things
Do not let me fear, girl who is nameless

Dreaming desperately
In the hope I may find you there again
Girl who is nameless
But I can not being myself to name you

What is your name I wonder?
They say people in dreams
Are ones met or seen
So tell me why I can not say it girl who is nameless

Dreaming desperately
In the hope I may find you there again
Girl who is nameless
But I can not being myself to name you
Dae Staebell Jan 2016
Though I splish
Though I splash
*** I drink so fear my wrath

Behold my mate
Behold my captain
Cutlasses ring and we are laughing

Pity me not
Pity the foe
Sink him to the godless unknown

Plunder the hold
Plunder her chest
Strife we be so do not rest

Sink the English
Sink the Spanish
We rule here so we **** them

Free we are
Free we be
A lavish life is the one for me

If I am hanged
If I am dead
Fear not mate I swam to land

Cut your foes
Cut their friends
We rule this kingdom
    In the Queen Anne's Revenge!
A fun poem to show my appreciation for pirates. My favorite time in history.
Dae Staebell Jan 2016
She stands vigilant
Sadness clings to her memoirs
Beauty torments her
Just a traditional haiku about how beauty can also be a torment
Dae Staebell Feb 2017
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.
Dae Staebell Aug 2016
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
Revised an old work
Dae Staebell Aug 2016
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
Dae Staebell Jan 2016
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
Life art hope pain paper
Dae Staebell Jan 2016
In doom and despair
She smiles as if to laugh
A bulge of fangs underneath
Hidden but in plain sight

A pain felt deep
Like a needle piercing
But yet I am calm
As if in the eye of the storm

Blood creeps and crawls
A song on the surface of my skin
A choir draped in crimson
Singing a melody of crows

Fate can be cruel
A love looted
At the point of a stiletto
She knew where to strike

She drove it deep
Into skin, into soul
A chasm so fathomless
What an abyssal *****

I was butchered
A pine box aroma
I can feel her eyes
Piercing me as she shovels dirt
Dae Staebell Jan 2016
We lie
It is in our nature to deceive
When among apex predators
We hide our true intentions
Constantly camouflaging
In our minds
We make enemies of friends
Wary of what games they play
Friendships becoming wars of attrition
Subvert each other's eyes
Cloud each other's visions
Readying blades
And building intelligence caches
Waiting for the moment
To air out ***** laundry
To manipulate
To puppeteer
To instigate and spread propaganda
A new era of Cold War
As if social interactions
Are but chess games
Who will sacrifice the pawns
Who will take the queen
Who will **** the king
Or are we but pretending to be jesters
Or rooks silently waiting in the corner?
Dae Staebell Jan 2016
As a poet
I seek to give words
A form of sorts
I feel as though I am a blacksmith
The hammer a pen
The paper my anvil
Words the steel
Viciously shapeless at first
Once refined, beautifully curved
Tempered with my emotion
To form a crafted sword
Not meant to pierce flesh
But instead the soul
Surface can be of gilded gold
Ornate and pretty
A blade meant to dazzle and woo
I say this resolutely, absolutely
Because in the breath of a sentence
One can live **forever
A poem about the impact poetry can can have and what better way to describe than to say you're a craftsman of sorts
Dae Staebell Jan 2016
In a dimly light corridor
She ran and I implore
Fear overwhelms her
I shouted and I warned her
Wary of the story
Of this abandoned observatory
Phantoms and ghastly things
Speak and panic they bring
She knows not this story
Of ghosts and their follies
Doing deeds for man
They did have a joyous plan
To study and create
A new era of sensory gates
They said five was ne'er near enough
So they sought the sixth in lust
What they did discover
Was the form of wanton terror
Driving them to insanity
Bringing this place dear calamity
She makes it to the door
And I become a ghost
     Of this dimly lit corridor
Dae Staebell Apr 2016
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
This has two forms. Can be taken literal as a canine companion or pet and how they provide great emotional recovery or therapy or can be seen as being a friend for someone and keeping them going
Dae Staebell Jan 2016
We recede back into the depths
Our minds harboring tangled webs
Giving credence to griefs and sorrows
Preferring to live in the past
We retrace footsteps back to the beginning
Fantasizing other routes
Of chances never taken
Alas that is all we do
Circumnavigating parts we already lived
On our long search for bliss
We find ourselves mesmerized by angst
Forever tormenting fragile hearts
Like once was not enough
Wandering awake we are black and grey
Daydreaming our eyes see more vividly
We lay tired but never sleep
Cogs of our fantasies turning evermore
Insomnia such a faithful companion
Never wanting to leave us alone
For those who have trouble falling asleep. My mind often revisits places I've already wondering if I could've changed it as all people do. I often see young teens write about similar subjects as I once did but now I've lived a few more years I can write about it more beautifully.
Dae Staebell Oct 2016
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
Dae Staebell Dec 2015
What if bullets were books
What if cries were children laughing
What if gravestones were gardens
What if fear was admiration
What if malice intent was love
What if prisoners of war were artisans
What if instead of ruins there was a palace
What if WMDs didn't exist
What if fanatic soldiers became peaceful
What if lies were never broadcasted
What if hope persevered
What if love lasted
What if peace wasn't just a dream

— The End —