A Volitive Prey

A coup of convenience benumbs sacrifice
straining to press virtue into its vice
this convoluted air would vaunt above
and invoke a prince of the power thereof
meandering through this recreant pace
miasma lace its contradictory chase
when stealthily stalking, the daze forgone
what struck as enlightenment blinds with its dawn

a charmed chanteuse croons a cherubic berceuse
the circumventive reprise spun to appease
wherein the nocturne nullifies flickering flight
til the day condones the surrounding night
round the spiral constricts with each verse borne
as twilight obscures surety and trust is worn
while vying for freedom, yet we’ve become
consumed in a chorus of conviction struck dumb

inasmuch as the parlay for the night impend
the twilight portends a reckoning to rend
a harvest of blight,  a wisp in the wind
under a pall of clouds as reaping begins
for our desire we’re born is the mantra to ring
and to the fire are flung the ones yet to sing
still, a winnowing fans the temporal flash
and the dusk proves the dawn as flame begets ash

but the refrain’s all the same to an ear of tin
beaten drum of an indifferent din
that behind the veil of a gray cataract
turns the scales for a quicksand pact
a myriad of movements the maze will flaunt
like dying of thirst in an ocean of want
whorled ripples on a shadow sabotage
sifting dust through a tangled blue mirage

the banner unfurls with this freedom feint
and no boundary unbreached presumes no restraint
charging headlong like a bull towards its fate
thereby, to the pretender, the realm abdicate
believing to be the center of gravity
the vortex of desire ascends divinity
to subvert within by this imploding lure
a volitive prey for a volatile predator

hooked on the cant of this elastic extreme
delusion reels in the mercurial mean
to have and to hold under supreme view
a verdict of venom for the other ensue
whereby intolerance deride, yet enforce
paralysis grips with all cowed by its course
a surreptitious snare played to persist
sprung from an ancient cold blooded contortionist

what assailed one trust with a spurious stone
has cast it upon any rule of its own
so enlightenment turns, eclipsed from the light
leaving we, who follow along, overturned by night
for to count on the spell of numbers to seize the day
are the number to count on to be seized by the sway
of the virulence inuring, arbitrary at heart
from generation to the next, til death do us part

Written by Scott Schoffstall
© January 29, 2011
all rights reserved
Poetic Sojourn

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About Scott Schoffstall

I'm a relatively new poet having started in earnest 11/2010. I have sought the authentic and am still on that quest. I've diverged from the norm yet always reached for the universal. My interests were always beyond the here and now. Beyond the taste, touch, smell, hear, see. Where the mind and the spirit transcend the physical. They say perception is reality. Is it? Are we truly all there is?

2 comments

  1. wow, this was incredible!

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