son of no one

the son of no one
born on the run
infant estranged
the son of no one
left to
biding time
for exchange
to administrators
confined with
the instigators
coming of age
will foster the rage

inflicted, unseen
constricted to ween
little esteemed
detention intervened
caught one’s attention
caution neglected
subtracted and rejected

the son of no one
violent companion
father to none
chance undone
absent inherent
not all as apparent

spectre paternal
world war
post traumatic
diligence erratic
distance and animosity
breeding atrocity

from a distant
unaware descent
dissenting to care
only to overbear
an outcome hell bent
opportunity misspent

yet the one
would resign
destinies entwined
after long suffering
inevitable design
from what wrought

let it go as
it comes
son of no one
once numb
for some
to the many
no one
now son of the one

the race
had to run
for it to be won
come bittersweet
for a portent reunion

is it good to be gone?
life will go on
for after life on the run
this one son was won

written by Scott Schoffstall
© February 02, 2012
all rights reserved
Poetic Sojourn

strong in the silence gives

on my way I’ve known
a quite place of safety
that knows strength beyond
a thousand towers
that stand proud
behind walls with bold boast
made of stone

this place,
were one confides
secret treasure
held without fear
of pillage,
holds delicate
beauty unrealized
and considering itself
small, soars above
any tower’s boast

this accepting refuge
dwells under shadow
but in shade
one can find comfort
and cool deliverance
from the heat of battle

a well of still
cool water will greet you here
enough to quench a lifetime
and the deeper you draw
the more it gives
it will never run dry
for it taps unto source

it does this without
knowing return
its thirst is for outlet
and gives freely
from its need
never witholding.
if it did presume,
it would lose
this very draw
and would parch
from its own stagnant

this oasis,
quite and still,
does not rush madly
over rock and fall.
it awaits in the cool
keep of its depth
and its bank,
fertile for growth
is where life renews

all strength
from this place
comes not from tower
behind walls of stone
but in the still gentle
giving of its unassuming
silent source

its only desire
is to be known
and desired
so it may give
from its pool
from time under shadow
kept for just such a weary

if you are so blessed
to find such a reserve,
cherish its abundance
but be warned,
if you plunge its depth
to bloat in haste,
you may season
with bitter salts
and another will
drink your poison

then may you be
as the vagrant dune
a howling wind
blowin parched
under the searing light
wandering aimlessly
kicked under foot
with dread and curses
never knowing home

Written by Scott Schoffstall
© May 19, 2013
all rights reserved
Poetic Sojourn

I am in me

I was a hippy
it was all rather trippy
but I found the love
was the love of pleasure
though fine
was the root and sole treasure
the end of all measure

I was a punk
but I found the justice
was just as
long as I got a chunk
of all that jazz
just so much junk
trapped in a funk
sold out to pizazz

now I’m me
who I’m meant to be
I am evolving
continually revolving
with the one
that set me free

and as it turns out
that was what
I had sought to see


Written by Scott Schoffstall
© March 24, 2013
all rights reserved
Poetic Sojourn

legacy in light

everyone has a story though many aren’t told
child, woman or man, young or old
from the man on the hill in mansion elite
to the drunk or drug addict, lying half dead in the street

but these offensive you pass by not caring to know
lying stripped of dignity, your final dealt blow
many once seekers of light glittering would see
betrayed by this darkness you now judge them to be

this condemnation you cast down on these down cast
a higher court convicts, worthless to last
for seeing what glitters as your worshiped light
sentenced worldly ways will blind you its blight

yet these at your feet you neglect to beware
with unceasing faith even unto depths of despair
entrust now the true legacy in light, whence faithfull commend
their names written in life’s book, a story without end

1322862614917_ORIGINALwritten by Scott Schoffstall
© January 07, 2013
all rights reserved
Poetic Sojourn

A Christmas Thought

I believe love will win the day

 have you ever considered the rock
strong and seemingly impenetrable
stands unalterable by your hand

have you considered the water
how you can dip your hand through it and it envelopes you

have you seen the shore where the rock meets the sea

have you the time to consider how that which gave way to your gentle touch and infused you with its life has taken the hard impenetrable stone and suffered to gradually smooth it to pebble and eventually sand

I believe love will win the day because hate is exhaustible and love, in the true heart, is not.

Peace be with you and yours

559908_447538325307825_1479761323_nwritten by Scott Schoffstall
© December 24, 2010
all rights reserved
Poetic Sojourn




in our name (the Pyrrhic victor)

oh dear one so bright and new
how do I explain this world to you
we’ve turned our face from the light above
blinding our minds to the sight of love

once we cared for our little ones like you
now we teach everything and nothing are true
confuse and abuse you to chill and become
cold from self, will freeze a tender heart numb

we’ll twist you that way and twist you this
use your friends to push you into our abyss
from program to programmed, all day in our spell
til open minds enclose within our comfy cell

you’ll do as your told, your soul will be sold
you’ll give us your little ones before they’re too old
while still in make believe, it’s easily understood
our pixie dust will turn what’s evil into good

but only ill comes from this nefarious course
and we’ll be there with denial to deflect from its source
giving no other outlet than what they’ve been taught
lash out, make them suffer, make them pay from what’s wrought

Remember, learn, act

Remember, learn, act

written by Scott Schoffstall
© December 15, 2012
all rights reserved
Poetic Sojourn

be still the dream

when we mourn, we are the impostor
we mourn ourselves
we mourn relationship

jazz has it right
at first there’s sorrow
just for the while
to goodbye

then we party
because those we miss
are free
free to be

have you ever had the dream
you knew was real
then woke to find it dream?

be still
you’ve not awoke yet


written by Scott Schoffstall
© December 12, 2012
all rights reserved
Poetic Sojourn