The homeless poet
stood outside the bar
in the cold
talking to anyone
who would listen.

He held a stack of papers
in his hands
that he gave away
to anyone who showed
the slightest interest.

He said they were free,
but anyone with half a heart
would give him a buck or two,
or at least some coins,
just enough for a cup of coffee.

He was a guru
in his own peculiar way,
and his words
were laced with a type
of apocalyptic strangeness –
full of velvet angels
with dark chocolate wings
receding down from heaven
to punish the normal
and bring chaos to the meek.

He was all mixed up inside,
but that was his role to play,
and it was all perfect,
and it was all beautiful –
whether he found a bed,
or whether he died in the street,
it was all ok,
because the angels were coming either way.

This poem originally appeared in the recent Summer issue of Belle Reve Literary Journal.

It is based on a man I met a few times on the streets of Atlanta back in late 2009. I enjoyed talking to the guy, though his mind was slightly cracked after years of living on the streets. He is the only other person I’ve ever met who spoke about The Renaissance Revolution, which has been an archetypal concept growing in my heart for over a decade.

I wrote around thirty stream of consciousness poems over the next few nights after my initial encounter with the man…whose name was Craig now that I think back on it. Ten or so of those poems have been published in the past year. In fact, “Manifestations of Heat” was just recently accepted by Clockwise Cat for the upcoming October issue. That period back in late 2009 was a time in my life full of wild synchronicity and magic. It helped open my mind up to the larger mystery of consciousness, and to tap in more fully to the alignment of where the energies of heaven and earth converge. That, however, is a post for another time…

Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar