Moonshine paradise
ineffable essence
Tired clichés
gagged with a spoon
Smelted silver
Rusted lust
Wheat gut
rot hole
Purge the parasite
Release the Beast
that it may roam
and rain hell
from here ‘till Sunday
Rain for days fell upon the land…and it was good, for the people were wont with a thirst that needed quenching. Squelched. Satiated. Sanctioned from the high sky. Drip drop down to the seeds. Start to sprout. Towering ivory beanstalks stretching across the void of chaos. Cruising on the waves of ebb and flow.
Thank you to Sand Pilarski of The Piker Press for publishing “Campaign of Confusion” earlier this week. The poem originally appeared a few months back at Dissident Voice.
Thank you also to Michael Organ of Tuck Magazine for publishing “One Way Path” several days ago. It’s an honor to appear again at this poetry page which has been consistently posting strong material seemingly day after day for several weeks now. Apparently a weather vein was struck, and so it has been a nightly stop for me of late to check in on what’s new at Tuck.
People sometimes say to write what you know…which I understand to a certain degree…but that technique has a tendency of boring me to tears…I need to seek what I do not already know…to grow…to collapse rhymes unto entropy…only to resurrect the theory on the third day just for fun…on a flimsy solstice whim…on a pulsar beam laser sharp bull’s-eye…on a shattered prism hologram broadcast channel…it simply is what it is…I can only be what I am –
There is always just enough beauty
to keep the scales tipped
51-49
in favor of salvation
Selah,
Scott Thomas Outlar
P.S.
17Numa 
Its gorgeous Scott, my favourite poem of yours so far: I especially like ‘Smelted silver, Rusted lust…’ 🙂
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Wow. Thank you, Sonia…that means a lot, and I really appreciate your comment.
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