Little poisonous needles pierce flesh from the sky,
falling like diamond fangs of oblivion,
tearing into open wounds with venomous kisses,
spitting out the toxic waste in vomited waves.

Her love is a dark fire of death,
using lust as a wicked intoxication
to lure in tragic victims
before burying them beneath the cancer in her heart.

Salvation is a dirty word whispered from her lips,
blistering forth from a tongue of chaos
to coat the spirit of weary travelers
who have been sadly fooled by the siren’s song.

A devil in a temptress gown –
dancing atop the graves of her victims,
howling at the moon come midnight,
laughing madly as the maggots begin to roar.

Scalpel teeth enter the neck with pinpoint precision,
tearing deeply into broken veins,
sucking out the river of life,
polluting the well with eternal blackness.

A riptide fury with which she works
to weave her tangled web of lies,
calling out the next fat meal
to toy with in her clutches before biting.

The latest feast to fill her gorged guts –
acid burning to the core of dehydrated bones,
melting the marrow into a soup
before being slurped down her abysmal soul.

---

Sometimes I write love songs devoted to God and the magical wonderment of Creation. Sometimes I write dark, cancerous lullabies inspired by black widows. In the end, it’s all just fun and games. Mostly. There is, of course, always a larger agenda lingering…building up behind the curtains…waiting for the perfect moment to begin the show…

---

Two poems came out yesterday at Dead Snakes:

“Bread and Circus” and “A Sky of Thorns”

If you dig what you read here at the blog, feel free to drop me a line and let me know what you think; also, I’d love to connect with everyone on Facebook and Twitter.

Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar

You would think
that after passing the same person
while walking at the park
every single day for weeks on end,
nodding a polite hello to them each time
as a silent gesture of goodwill,
that sooner or later,
instead of staring right through you
with black orbs of death,
they might eventually nod back,
acknowledging the basic humanity
that the two of you share,
and proving once and for all,
beyond a shadow of a doubt,
that they are not some cold-blooded reptilian alien
from a far distant planet
sent to earth just to act like a smug jerk.
But, you know, whatever…
c’est la vie and all that jazz.

A recorded version of this poem can be found here 

---

This poem is pretty self explanatory, me thinks. I know that some people have anxiety issues. I know that some people aren’t comfortable around other human beings. I know that some people like to get in the zone and live in their own little world. I know that eye contact scares the shit out of some people. But, you know, grow up…a nod is not going to kill ya. Jackass.

---

I had a nice little surprise early this morning in the from of an email that popped into my inbox from the journal Nazar Look which is based out of Constanta, Romania.

Apparently, I had sent a three poem submission to this venue back in February. I never received an acceptance or rejection letter, and honestly don’t even recall having sent the poems. So, it was interesting to receive a letter today containing a link to the newly released issue 44 of the journal in which my work has been included. The three poems can be found at this link, appearing on pages 64-65.

“Truth” originally appeared at Record-webzine last year, and later at Wilderness House Literary Review.

“The Way It Is” was just recently featured at Your One Phone Call, a venue out of Wales, where I have a couple more poems (“In a Nutshell” and “Insomnia”) that will be appearing in the next couple of weeks.

“Elusive” was first published at Dissident Voice, and also later appeared at Wilderness House Literary Review.

---

If you enjoy what you read here then I’d like to encourage you to follow this blog, leave comments, share the posts, and check out more content on the other pages. There are links to all my published poetry, essays, and fiction, as well as links to well over 100 literary venues.

Also, feel free to connect with me by following these links to Facebook and Twitter.

Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar

There are golden metaphors
not yet written
never before used
hanging
hovering
waiting with eternal patience
in the realm of dreams
to be grasped
and woven
into an intricately
designed web
of perfect
pinpoint precision
that raises
razor sharp
illumination
to the tippy-top
of consciousness
where solid shocks
of electric enlightenment
snap, crackle, pop
to the surface layer
of God’s Sun
helping revelation
and epiphany
burn hot
to light up the sky

with bombs bursting in air
all that jazz, all that flair
…
but that is not
at all
what you’ll find here

For that type of imagery
of the golden dawn variety
has a rather elusive quality
hard to grasp
hard to handle
hard to hold at all
lest it shatter under extreme pressure

a broken chalice
spilling wine and smelted silver

a dormant rust
bleeding acid from the core

a last ritual
under the weeping moon
as the primal desires
of a bound fury
smash through the chains
to unleash chaos
with mounting tides
of spitfire waves
ready to bring hell
at any moment

that is to say…

a horse, of course,
of another sort

a bird with black tar feathers
of an entirely different kind

This is not a poem
(this is a poem)
about flowery yellow language
and lofty, bouncy, big ideas

This is a poem
(this is not a poem)
about the would-be Wunderkind
kissed on the cheek
stabbed in the back
shot through the heart
slain on the cross
resurrected on the third day
only to be
buried alive on the fourth

Crestfallen in the casket –
not much air down there to breathe

Cries of,
“Why hast thou forsaken me?”
get muffled
in the firmament of clay
that once
had served
as cradle
but now
became
the grave

But do not shed,
Crow Jane, nary a single tear –
for you and I both know
that we all die,
my dear

---

Recorded reading on audioBoom available at this link

A #SpokenWord prompt-inspired poem for:

#MadVerse 413
#ThePaths
#FIERYVERSE
#ntitle 524
#SpeakPoetry

---

Updates:

My short poem “A Brief Respite” was released yesterday at The Poet Community.

“Sweet Dreams” has been accepted by Pankheart for their upcoming Slim Volume: This Body I Live In anthology.

I’d love to continue connecting with everyone here at the blog, as well as on Twitter and Facebook.

Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar

Hey, Mister Mason
what’s that you’re building?
Do you think that it’s sturdy
and not destined to fall?

Finger to your lips
shh, it’s a secret
Once out in the open
the truth will be revealed

Black and white pieces
hold your positions
Checker the floorboard
as we settle all scores

Oaths that were taken
were given in shadow
Now run to your corners
the Light has come on

Hey, there, King-Maker
your puppets are tattered
Hey, Wizard of Darkness
your reign is dismissed

Dawn of the New Day
ain’t what you thought, eh?
The Phoenix is rising
as we leave you below

---

This poem originally appeared late last August at Dissident Voice where I’ve now been contributing a weekly Sunday poem for the past year. You can follow this link to browse my archive there.

It was also posted recently at the site Social Justice Poetry. This link will take you to that particular archive.

---

This link is to a recorded version of “Broke His Crown” that I sang last night on audioBoom.

There was a time when I used to live alone and thus had plenty of solitude and space to practice singing without disturbing anyone else. Between 2003 (when I was given a small voice recorder as a Birthday gift) and 2013 (when the recorder went on the fritz), I recorded literally thousands of tracks of poetry readings and a cappella song lyrics. After selling my home along with 90% of everything I’ve ever owned a couple of years ago and moving into a house with other people, those days of solitude are gone for the time being. My voice is definitely a bit out of practice, but it’s been fun using these recording platforms I’ve come across lately to try and whip it back into shape.

---

Thank you to Michael Organ at Tuck Magazine for publishing two of my poems yesterday. “Satiating Urges” and “Sleep in the Bed That You Made” can be read here.

Also, thank you to Denise C. Powell at The Voices Project for publishing my poem “Assaulted from Above” yesterday.

---

All comments, critiques, concerns, and suggestions relating to this blog or my work in general are certainly most welcome. Feel free to send a message my way.

I’d love to connect with everyone on Facebook and Twitter.

Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar

How many bombs
dropped
from all of the war
props
poisonous and poised to hiss
with a snake’s tongue
venom on the fang drips
needlepoint precision
Shock and Awe proclamation
A river of fire
in a ring around the city
Mercury enters the blood
a kill shot to the mind
Alzheimer’s and a loss of fight
The hawks and vultures cry
“Mission Accomplished”
as they send the Eagle in
to pick up the bloody pieces

How many lives
lost
from all of the lies
cast
carelessly and callously
with spiteful intentions
malicious persuasion
A thousand points
of propaganda
from the lips of cowards
hiding behind a doomed and decadent Empire
dilapidated and disintegrating
toppling like a house of cards
when a hand of five aces
is laid down on the table
by the collective force
of a Renaissance Revolution

How many souls
will rise
on the day that the truth
takes flight
lofty and laced with visions
of a lit up nebula being born
in the blink of a moment
at the brink of a New Age
sipping freely from the full well
raining Love from the constellation
with a song from the spheres
about the cycles of time
The wheels, they spin
The gears, they turn
The dust drifts away
as the Phoenix flows out from the ash

---

A spoken word version recorded on SoundCloud can be listened to at this link.

Trump Hand is a poem that originally appeared at Dissident Voice in August of last year. It was then published at Guy Farmer’s site Social Justice Poetry, and later included in the 2015 edition of Degenerates: Voice for Peace, put out through Weasel Press.

Trump Hand was also recently published in Richard Robert Hansen’s series Poems-For-All as #1294. This is a really cool project that started up in 2001, and I’m very pleased to have a poem of mine included. I’d urge anyone interested to follow the link and check out Richard’s site to learn more about what he’s doing to try and scatter poems like seeds throughout the world.

This is also the opening poem in my chapbook “Songs of a Dissident” which is in the pipeline to come out through Transcendent Zero Press at some point in the future. The publishers Dustin Pickering and Z.M. Wise do a great job with their quarterly magazine, Harbinger Asylum, which I’ve had poems appear in a couple of times now, so I’m excited to be working with them on a larger collection.

---

Many thanks to Michael Organ at Tuck Magazine for publishing two of my poems today. It’s always a pleasure to have work featured at this venue.

“Satiating Urges” and “Sleep in the Bed That You Made” can be read at this link.

---

I’d love to hear any feedback you might have about this post, or the blog in general. Feel free to leave comments, critiques, compliments, curses, or suggestions of any kind.

Anyone who would like to connect can also reach me on Twitter and Facebook.

Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar

A tablespoon or two of apple cider vinegar
to break the fast each morning,
followed by freshly squeezed lemon juice
in a glass of water enhanced with trace minerals
to help flush out the toxins
from the day before.

Twenty minutes of deep mindful breathing
while stretching under the clear blue sky
with bare feet in the grass
helps to oxygenate the blood,
increase circulation,
and balance out the electromagnetic charge
that pulses through the earth, atmosphere,
and human organism.

Then a mile long walk up to the local park
to sit in the woods and write poetry
such as this, as well as to relax
and prepare the mind for a full day ahead.

A nice long jog under the sweltering Summer sun
sweats out more toxins and breaks down muscles
so that they can be built back up stronger –
order out of chaos and all that jazz.

But wait, I nearly forgot to mention
the wonderful power of the superfood powder
that goes down the gullet before exercise begins –
full of plant-based, raw, living, electrically-charged,
high vibration vitamins, minerals, antioxidants,
enzymes, prebiotics, and probiotics,
as well as all sorts of other nutritious goodies.

Then it’s back home to drink cold-pressed juice
while networking online, typing, editing, researching,
sending out submissions, reading the work of other poets,
and generally doing everything I can possibly think of
to continue moving along the path toward eventual success.

---

This has been my basic morning/afternoon ritual for quite some time now, with very little deviation from the path. I have a powerfully addictive personality, and so it is rather easy for me to fall into comfortable routines. Sometimes that may mean drinking copious amounts of alcohol for days, weeks, months, or years at a time, while other times it may mean having laser sharp focus on gaining a high degree of mental clarity, emotional stability, spiritual illumination, physical well being, and overall good health.

Perhaps I’ll write an addendum to this poem at some point that deals with the routine I follow during the next part of the day, which essentially involves more writing and consumption of a healthy diet.

---

My poem out today at Dissident Voice marks the one year anniversary of being a weekly contributor at the site. I’m very thankful to Angie Tibbs for being the first editor to publish one of my poems last year, and in so doing providing me with the boost of confidence which led me to jump headfirst into the vast ocean of submissions, which has, in turn, led to a fairly successful first year. I’m closing in on having published 400 poems so far in 2015, links to which can be found on the Poems Page of this site.

“…with Slavery and Debt for All” can be checked out at this link, where both the text as well as a recorded reading of the piece can be found…

Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar

I write this love song
to life –
her eyes enchant me
and give vision
to a sight once blind;
her smile intoxicates me
and lights up my face
that once was so cold;
her music inspires me
as it blows
across the whispering winds;
her openness draws me in
and touches me
with electricity from the source;
her sky is an ocean
of pure blue fervor
that rolls with gentle waves;
her heart pumps feverishly
and fills my veins
full of passion and lust;
her truth rings with veritas
and shatters the illusion
of lies that try to bind;
her moon reflects warmth
in the night
as I marvel at the stars;
her sun is my savior
and I welcome its flash
with each new dawn that arises.

---

A simple song on a simple day from a simple man that simply wants to simplify matters down to the basest form so that simplicity can reign in his heart, mind, and soul.

But it’s pretty much a foregone conclusion that it won’t last very long…

They say ignorance is bliss, but I don’t necessarily buy into that whole rap. I have an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and a ravenous hunger for deeper understanding of the truth. In fact, I don’t even know what the truth actually is, and so that basic problem alone always keeps me coming back to the table for the next feast. An existential meal for an appetite that will never be satiated. But that’s cool. I didn’t come to this world expecting to find all the answers. I came to enjoy the experience, play the game, and have a bit of fun while waxing philosophical and playing around poetically with words. There is also the main agenda of Renaissance and Revolution that still needs to be tended to…and that season will surely arrive when the moment is right…there is, after all, a time and a place for all things.

---

Five new poems out today in the debut issue of The Syzygy Poetry Journal:

Alpha Point Apocalypse; Schism; Simple Measures; Buzzing Revelation; and Springs Eternal can be found at this link.

My weekly Sunday poem will be coming out tomorrow at Dissident Voice. I knew that the one year mark was starting to creep up on my having been a contributor at the site, but I just went and checked and it turns out that it now has been one full year. So that’s pretty sweet, for sure. Here’s a link to my archive there.

Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar

Pay no mind
to the Pied Pipers
always
spewing that noxious nonsense
left and right

hanging by a memory
and fading fast
on the tired wings
of a broken eagle
in a dying empire

Jagged little edges
bleed out
in
blue and white
with crimson chaos
smeared
from the ruptured heart
of an overwhelmed system
built no better
than a house of cards

An ivory tower
made of glass
sure to shatter
from the stones
cast
by fate alone

Destined to fall
since the first sin
in the garden

Made a deal
with the wrong side
of the scales
and karma
never fails
to hit the damned target

So say goodnight
and say goodbye
as the shroud of shadows
which you have hidden within
are dispersed
by the burning light
and your soul is weighed
against the feather
for final judgment

You thought
that you
were in control?

ha ha ha

You did not respect
the laws of nature

Woe be
unto those
who neglect
the higher truth
of love
and seek only to covet
the power
of
crown and throne

---

Recorded version at audioBoom

A #SpokenWord Poem Prompt Response for:

#SpeakPoetry

#MadVerse 408

#FIERYVERSE

#HomoAquarius

#VerseReversal 213

#DSpoetry 267

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A few new poems out the past couple of days which can be found at the links below. Many thanks to Joe Milford at Rasputin and Guy Farmer at Social Justice Poetry for allowing me to contribute.

Bloody on Both Ends – Rasputin

Private Viewing – Rasputin

Mr. Rosy – Rasputin

Back Down to Earth – Social Justice Poetry

Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar

The stage is set
The curtains drawn
The lights go on

Hey, now,
why don’t you
rock it for me

I have sacrificed everything
to be here

Bled my veins dry
drained my gills
and cut my throat…
for you

and now
nothing else matters

so play your song
and sing
with
lungs ravaged in black cancer
and
lyrics that call out the hounds

love and lust
interwoven
in every note

Death Metal Apocalypse
upon us

ashes to ashes…
it all falls down

and so we dance
in Dionysian revelry

Press your promises
against my flesh
and pour your chalice freely
that I may taste
but one sip
of sweet nectar
from your holy symphony

---

audioBoom recording

A #SpokenWord Poem Prompt Response for:

#MadVerse

#FIERYVERSE

#SpeakPoetry

#WyldeVerse

Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar