Of the World but Not In It

under the guise of community
we’ve channeled small to greatest distraction
sending light round the world to darken corners
reaching afar
yet sequestered within
and touch not the ones we touch

this bond that circumvents distance
brings us together but keeps us distant
threads of connection suspend
taut and tethered on links of illusion
redirecting reality
along a virtual remote controlled

the sensory overload deprivation
consumes exponentially
as even the very young succumb
the inversion mirroring the unseen
a mirage in which thieves of sight
steal that entrusted

seeing through a glass darkly
underlies a cloud of gray
where anonymous evil exonerates abuse
in a tangle of artificial alibis
that bind souls with cords of fancy
twisted in a web, spun of lies
that suck the light from dreams

Written by Scott Schoffstall
© November 18, 2011
all rights reserved
Poetic Sojourn



She dances between lines and margins
Contending with each pirouette
Scribbling with a palliative spin
Bound by a pansophist counterfeit
Leading her on, the dance becomes flight
Her wings flutter through the chapters it writes
For an epilogue in the quietus footlights

Whispering a hymn of transcendent rest
That wakes in infinite birth,
She learns to forget the years of distress
For lessons of incalculable worth
In what the pen of permanence discerned
That yesterday’s tomorrows become today
And stories are told from pages turned


Written by Scott Schoffstall
© October 16, 2016
all rights reserved
Poetic Sojourn


Glistening from the depths, rain reflects
Tears of a despondent god
Drinking the silky silence of a fear
That is out of my reach and into your hands
My hands cup around the drops
And with time steep the bitter
Then falls thru the cracks in my hands
Trickling past my parched lips
To lay fallow in my sentient bowels
I don’t pretend to understand
Everything about this life, about what it’s like to be a god
But there’s something about drinking raindrops
That makes me realize, I know all I need to know
I’m wet now, soaked thru, bone-drenched
Saliferous flow irrigating the soul
Nourishing the movement for where it need grow
And thru this well of blue, will the rose of red e’er bloom


Written by Scott Schoffstall

© December 1, 2010
all rights reserved
Poetic Sojourn


Imprinted in the marrow of the soul
is a longing for a road
that impels our steps
in unison, without hesitation
with the certainty of destination
that gives each stride purpose
and each milestone meaning

a journey traversing winding valleys
and transient summits
towards a selfless horizon
that softens every hard place
and humbly prevails
against all odds

and the vision that illuminates
even as each dark step falls


written by Scott Schoffstall
© August 16, 2015
all rights reserved
Poetic Sojourn

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 instigator’s
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

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 portentous 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 quiet place of safety
that knows strength beyond
a thousand towers
standing proud
behind walls with bold boasts
made of stone

this place,
where 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 not under shadow
but in shade
where 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 a source

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

this oasis,
quiet and still,
does not rush madly
over rock and fall.
it awaits in the cool
keep of its depth
within its banks,
fertile for growth
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 shade
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