the weight of years

like stones they pile one upon the other
stacking upon the scales of fate
in time they would crush
one upon the other

alas my burden, to return them
to their rightful owner
with no interest
for I am bankrupt
and my term due

preclude I pray
from this crushing
as I am now what I was
dust

 

 

written by Scott Schoffstall
© February 11, 2012
all rights reserved
Poetic Sojourn

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fly in a jar

I am the alien
the other
designated
for destruction
consummately fated
fitted with obstruction

as a fly in a jar
I batter myself
upon glass
in desperation
to pass
only mocked
with each darting
in futility blocked
before starting

I discern no bar
until I try
             as I fly
fully intent on release
      collide
an impenetrable cross
of double
that will never cease
to inflict its trouble

I am the alien
I have no right
to plead my plight
free will
consumed
in this game of attrition
extracted
             exhausted
                           entombed
a tale of omission
from all that draws breath
gives life meaning
makes bearable death

encased
in separate space
contained
there will be no grace
            ordained disdained
the lines
            on my face
tell
there’s no holding time
thief of
          my days
corrupter of ways
          a singular hell
dying
       by moments
                    sealed inside
slow acting stress cyanide

languished
I lie in hopes to dream
escape from this scheme
but they have all fled
there’s no refuge in bed
a platform of torment
                 a jest
          I detest
of encircling regret
                            bent
         on descent
                 prevents
what I could know
     or how I could grow
no quarter given
     to insanity driven

a reverse black hole
zero can come
but a solitaire soul
in a transparent drum
dictated
           expulsion
compulsion
               takes hold
by this power controlled
perpetuates
base
resistance disintegrates
forced into exile
in place

forever constrained
to remain
kept inside
swept aside
as refuse
refused
no reason denied
all hope erased
on this planet’s face
                                 there will be no trace

 

 

Written by Scott Schoffstall
© July 03, 2011
all rights reserved
Poetic Sojourn


the age of digital scribblers

a big white rectangle
shining luminous lobotomy
open up and say ahhhh shit!
did I get you?

what? you’re still here?
I’ll fill you up with little
black picket lines
stick-men of syllabicity
they’ll fight for me

they’ll blacken your bright
beaming bombast
with little slashes
lacerating your pale petulance
until you’re scarred with
20/20 hindsight

Written by Scott Schoffstall
© August 07, 2011
all rights reserved
Poetic Sojourn


this phantom span

loss impales once more
but though dagger withdraw
the void advance

there is urgency
for stay
but it is done.
the world vacates
and the drop plummets
down its hurtling descent

would thee intercede
for a fool
pendent of right
writhed in wrong
yet however you impeach
the dead
they will not rise

I am thy slayer
seed of Cain
I shall
no more repose
though banished to grave
and dangle upon this
spectral thread

a pendulum creaking
in the wind
regarded not
the known unknown
invariably denied

I would loose this bond
that garrotes
with its wrenching grip
but no sooner do I break
than I commence to slaughter
renewed

my recidivous impulse
condemning me to evermore
return and serve the sway
of this phantom span

oh would that I learn to slip
this noose that with its
taut snap, suspends
oblivion
 

Written by Scott Schoffstall
© March 11, 2012
all rights reserved
Poetic Sojourn


Traveler’s haiku

Death in my suitcase
Upon destined arrival
At last, I unpack

 

 

Written by Scott Schoffstall
© February 06, 2012
all rights reserved
Poetic Sojourn


Sunday symptoms (hangover haiku)

brain done. fried cross-eyed
not likely to attend much
caffeine can’t save me

 

 

Written by Scott Schoffstall
© June 26, 2011
all rights reserved

Poetic Sojourn


nowhere man in a nowhere land

the answer is not new!
it’s naught.
nothing!
you go nowhere
find nothing
so you’re not
disappointed

It took me to now to find this
because I was trying to go somewhere
you don’t find something somewhere
you need nothing, you get nothing
you have to go nowhere for that
so once I was forced to be nowhere
I found nothing and that’s the answer!

so [K]not the noose

Now that I’ve found nothing nowhere
I’ll never need nothing nowhere
no more

 

 

Written by Scott Schoffstall
© June 30, 2011
all rights reserved

Poetic Sojourn