Hollow Harbinger

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Hollow
 
A particular hint … a strand
of time … of space … of sand …
a grain of salt … a hearth … a heart …
a halo … a pass to heaven …
a path of gold … a strain
of silver
 
Hollow out the center of my chest
and place a kiss … a breath
there
I will take away your innocence if you will give me back my shadow … that we may dance in the darkness together.
 
I will slay salvation with a whisper, and you will cry me a river of wine … that this lust may drown in desires of flesh.
 
I was born to be a harbinger, but forgot the message somewhere along the way. I thought I had something to say.
 
These are the lines that smell of boredom. This is where the sacrifice of truth is burned in times of war.
 
This is the score being settled. The zombie culture is dead. Door nails and bombshells and carnage raging completely. This is the bet being raised.
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A recording of the reading I gave at Shorter University last evening can be found here on SoundCloud. It was a pleasure to spend time with so many friends and great artists from The Southern Collective Experience. 

Anarchic Revelations

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Chaos Songs Front Cover

My latest book of poetry, Chaos Songs, is available now from Weasel Press. For every copy sold, a dark wave of anarchic revelation is born unto the world. Also, every copy sold helps sponsor my addiction to creation. Put money in my veins and words will bleed out. The more you feed me, the more ravenous I become. The final feast will satiate your every desire in the end. Copies are available here. 

Synchronization is a word precious to my heart. The way the stars align in life. The path my soul travels along.
 
Sometimes I wander and wonder. Sometimes I’m focused and straight on-point.
 
Take me to your leader. I’d like to have some words.
 
Down in the mud, slinging. It’s so wretched; y’all are fools.
 
This is not the birth place of a rube. There is no gold, nor silver, that can persuade me from pursuits of truth.
 
I didn’t come to earth to piss around and joke about. I came to teach about the ways in which infernos burn.
 
Welcome to the symphony of silence. The sounds you hear are letters typed into the fracture of your mind. Gobble-gobble, double-double, time for trouble; you will toil upon the spells cast from the shadow of your own karma.
 
There are only so many final warnings that can be given. Exactly one. It came long ago. Prepare for the consequence of your own decisions.
 
Pity is for weak men. Empathy is for balance. Revenge is for evolution.

blazevox-issue-16-cover

Five of my poems are included in issue 16 of BlazeVOX which was released this week.

Seeing Red

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Is it possible to fully dedicate one’s life to the light of God’s infinite love while also remaining in a state of drunken, orgiastic revelry provided from a chalice filled with the tears of one’s enemies? I’d like to believe such a feat is possible. By the time my bones have withered back to the primordial condition of dust and ash, I hope that the dualistic nature of my consciousness will have served to prove the theory true.
 
Embrace that which is good, decent, moral, honest, and holy with a frenzied passion; and hate that which is imbued with the putrid stench of evil with an equal fervor. That’s one hell of a mantra toward which to set one’s inner compass. Quite honestly, I haven’t been living up to this ideal over the past two years. I caught myself having too much fun with the game of publishing poetry here and there. I forgot about the absolute necessity to remain ever-vigilant in the righteous pursuit of sacred war. I forgot about the score in my soul that will never be subdued until it has been officially settled.
 
To hell with the control freaks. To hell with the social engineers. To hell with the practitioners of divide and conquer tactics. To hell with the authoritarian parasites. I’ve always said that the only types of bugs that can be smashed while still retaining a clear conscience are mosquitoes, leeches, and ticks.
 
To hell with the vampires whose fangs seek the neckline of true individuals who wish only to live in a state of sovereignty, liberty, freedom, and peace. To hell with the wolves dressed up in sheep’s clothing who speak with forked tongues and lie like devils in the night.
 
To hell with those forces that spread wicked propaganda across crony, corporate airwaves. To hell with the fools. To hell with the rubes. To hell with the marks. To hell with the zombies who have sold their souls to march in lockstep with the Beast System. To hell with those whose minds have been melted by the false promise of a Utopian Valhalla. To hell with the ideology of forced collectivism. To hell with the fascists who have never once looked themselves in the mirror and seen the reflection of their own shadow.
 
To hell with the cults of religion and politics. To hell with the cowards. To hell with the thieves. To hell with the demons that pretend to be angels. To hell with the dark occult. To hell with those who hurt the innocence of children. To hell with those who fund violence in the streets across this world. To hell with those who profit from war. To hell with those who rig the financial markets. To hell with those who seek centrally controlled apparatuses of power. To hell with hierarchies enforced by the gun. To hell … to burn … eternally.
 
I swore to God a revolution was coming. I swore to God a restoration was near at hand. I swore to God the renaissance was on its way. Whistling Dixie has never been my style. I swear to God that what I swore is still in store. The work has only just begun. Keep moving toward evolution. The future remains full of revelations. Welcome to the New Age. Atlantis 2.0 is sure to rise.

Tingling toward Absolution

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A Promise to Be Gentle
 
It’s not trendy –
I know –
to speak about
good and evil
in this morally relativistic culture
 
but that’s cool…
I like to do it anyway
 
It’s not hip –
I dig,
I get ya,
I got ya,
no worries –
to cast spells
of karmic retribution
in this materialistic paradise gone awry
 
it’s all cool…
I’ll only cast a few
In life, events happen. Some are sweet. Some cause suffering. So it goes. I’ve never met a fellow human being who hasn’t been knocked down at least a few dozen times. What separates the wheat from the chaff is determined by who immediately pops back up to their feet after each fall and starts making a beeline toward the goal.
 
Get on your horse. The Revolution has just begun.
 
I fully understand that we’re already a week and a half into the new month of November, and so doing a recap of October might seem a bit strange. So what? Better late than never. Unless the results in the end come up snake eyes; in that case, never would have sufficed. But this information is straight dope. So light up. Come get high with me.
 
Thank you to the editors at these 17 publications for accepting and/or publishing my work last month:
 
Dissident Voice; Whispers; Dime Show Review; GloMag; bear creek haiku; Shemom; The Bees Are Dead; CTU Publishing; Agjencioni Floripress; Spirit Fire Review; International Times; Culture Cult Magazine; Peeking Cat Poetry Magazine; FishFood Magazine; Praxis Magazine; World Poetry Open Mic; and BlazeVox.
 
Happy Hour Hallelujah front cover draft
My book Happy Hour Hallelujah is available now through CTU Publishing. If you dig my work, I would highly recommend ordering a copy here. It’s not going to save your soul or anything drastic like that, but it might just send a tingle up your spine a time or two.


Restoration unto Renaissance

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I have a huge ego.
I’m also severely humble.
 
I have a big fat smile to shine.
I’m also the shadow never seen.
 
This is the Apocalypse.
I don’t think that means what you’ve been taught.
 
This is the Renaissance.
I know you feel it in the marrow of your bones.
The election has ended. The restoration of the Republic, however, has only just begun. The empire of the entrenched establishment has been punched right in the nose … that isn’t going to make them very happy. The corporate media whores aren’t going to start spouting the truth all of a sudden. The central banks aren’t going to just shrug their shoulders and hand the currency back over. The power hungry parasites in the federal government aren’t going to lay down and roll over. Wickedness never rests. To fully defeat evil, eternal vigilance is the only option.
 
Songs of a Dissident was published through Transcendent Zero Press last December. Pick up a copy here on Amazon. The opening poem will continue to make more sense as time moves on.
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My poem “Embers into Ash” appears in the debut issue of Dime Show Review.
dime-show-review-issue-1

Visions of Verse … Dante’s Old South

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Looking forward to reading poetry this Wednesday in Jasper, Georgia at the Visions of Verse event that will be held in the Chattahoochee Technical College library.

On Thursday, I’ll be heading to Chattanooga, Tennessee to meet up with friends and fellow members of The Southern Collective Experience to record the next episode of our radio program, Dante’s Old South for NPR/WUTC.

My performance at the Callanwolde Fine Arts Center in Atlanta, Georgia from last week can now be heard here on SoundCloud.

Red Zone – Author Scott Thomas Outlar

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“Red Zone” is an excerpt from my new book, Happy Hour Hallelujah, which was recently released through CTU Publishing…

Raja's Insight's avatarRaja's Insight

The seams of this plastic earth

will melt apart like cotton candy sugar

under a wax sun

when it’s time for the Big Shift

to take the old guard

under the parting sea to meet

the wrecked remains of Atlantis.

Version 2.0 hasn’t been a big hit

up here in the Kingdom

of a lackluster Empire

where rabid dogs bark orders

to mutts that march in lockstep

with the drumbeat of war

despite hazardous health conditions

and a lack of benefits

in the retirement package.

Compassion is a curse word

in the red zone,

and empathy is a silent scream –

raging loud but signifying nothing –

when apathy plays the role of just one more

trigger warning for the eternally brokenhearted

who weep like their own personal martyrs

upon any cross they happen to find

out in the blistering blitzkrieg desert heat

where they hop aboard and hang

until…

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Callanwolde Fine Arts Center Performance

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callanwolde-fine-arts-center-event-poster

I’ll be reading at the Callanwolde Fine Arts Center in Atlanta, Georgia on Thursday, October 13. If there is anyone who lives in the area, I’d urge you to swing by that evening and grab a ticket. I expect that it’s going to be a great time, and I’ll certainly do my best to put on a righteous performance. Further details about the event can be found at this link.
 
I’ll also be appearing with friends and fellow members of The Southern Collective Experience later in October on the next episode of Dante’s Old South which is broadcast on NPR/WUTC. For those interested in listening to the radio show, please check out our YouTube channel here where archives of past programs can be heard.
 
OK, this has been the first regular post here at 17Numa in the past couple of months. It’s time, I believe, to get back into the full swing of things. However, I did recently publish an interview with Johnny Longfellow for Showcase Spotlight #3, as well as an essay and two poems by Irsa Ruci for Showcase Spotlight #4. I’ll be working on a September recap soon, seeing as how I failed to do such a thing for both July and August. Or, hell, maybe I just felt as if a break was in order after having posted regularly for the past year. Whatever the case may be, expect more action in the immediate future. In the meantime, feel free to click on some of the other pages here at the site which feature links to all my poems and essays that have been published recently. Also, I did have two new books released in August and September. Maybe I should post about that? Hmmm…..
 
Selah,
Scott Thomas Outlar

Showcase Spotlight #4

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Edit: May 3, 2017

 

The original content of this Showcase Spotlight has been removed as a courtesy to one of its co-authors. The lesson here, boys and girls, is to always live your life with the utmost integrity, honor, and decency, despite the drama that might seek to pull you down under its weight. So it goes. Amen. Hallelujah. Let us dance. Let us rejoice. Let us make merry with the future as it arrives in perfect splendor. Praise the Lord.

Unto the Generations – Author Scott Thomas Outlar

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An excerpt from my book, Happy Hour Hallelujah, which is available now through CTU Publishing…

Raja's Insight's avatarRaja's Insight

a poem

is born from a seed…

like everything else

a generation of ideas…

begotten this, begotten that –

the point is:

a poem is an explosion…

like everything else

© Scott Thomas Outlar

Happy Hour Hallelujah front cover draft

Excerpt from the book

“Happy Hour Hallelujah”

Seated (Visions of Verse)About the Author

Scott Thomas Outlar resides in the suburbs outside of Atlanta, Georgia where he spends the hours flowing and fluxing with the ever-changing currents of the Tao River while laughing at and/or weeping over life’s existential nature. He hosts the site 17Numa.wordpress.com where links to his published poetry, fiction, essays, and interviews can be found. His poem “Poetic Points” was nominated for Best of the Net by The Mind[less] Muse in 2015. Since beginning to submit his work in 2014, he has had more than 800 poems appear in over 200 print and/or online venues, both in the United States and internationally. He has been a weekly…

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