Q: When did you start writing?

A: Once upon a time…

That statement is both sarcastic and true. Humor can help provide a bit of sweetness sometimes when one is busy biting into the bitter realities of this world. I’ve been oh so serious of late, but am now beginning to work (diligently) to regain the shape of my aw-shucks smirk. The ability to shrug shoulders when things turn sour will not be far behind. For sure.

But I’ve danced around this opening question for long enough. Now it is time to let my bird loose from the cage so as to sing. Thankfully, spring is the perfect season for just such an action.

I began writing as a child, inspired by Nintendo characters. Stories about Mario, Luigi, and Link battling the rotten villains that weaved their wicked spells of bad mojo on every level of the game. Trying to…

Interview of  poet  Scott Thomas Outlar

Vatsala Radhakeesoon :  Scott Thomas Outlar, welcome to Poetry and Creativity blog! Please tell us about your background, earlier life and actual life?

Scott Thomas Outlar : Well, I was born and raised in the suburbs outside of Atlanta, Georgia. Karmic energy carried over from a previous life brought with it a streak of rebellion in the form of a slash emblazoned straight across my spine. Authority was not my cup of tea as a child, nor as a teenager. It still isn’t to be quite honest. Some things never change. But I’m able to roll with the waves of this world and better understand the ways in which it works at this point. So I just smile and stay connected to the lyrics of my own soul in an attempt to align with the song that originates from a higher source.

Place your tax break
near my lower bracket
and then brace
for balance
upon impact
as I send you swirling
toward the higher class
of holy angels
that walk amongst us
here on earth.

Place your precious lips
around the swollen ego
of my liver
and then start to suck
twenty years of wine
from the organ
one glass at a time;
red or white,
the story remains
ever the same.

Place your nuclear warhead
on the tip of my tongue
and then dance a jig
as the fireworks ignite
in an electric symphony
of infinite explosions
while I tap and tease
every triggered red button
I can find
for my greedy little fingers.

Place your hopes and dreams
close to my weathered ears
with a wanton whisper
until the winds of change
begin blowing hard
across the wonderland of winter
and the scales
of the seasons shift
as the…