Rain falls

Crickets chirp

Rabbit sits

stoically in the grass

Plane flies

overhead

Who the fuck am I?

What has this world come to?

I just try to deal with my own sins

and not hate other people for theirs

A baby is born

while someone gets shot

Give a little

Take a lot

I am the forgotten man –

left out in the blistering sun

to reach a state of overexposure

as the metal death apocalypse

rains down in solar ray saturation

I am the nothing/nowhere –

dragged by the hair

to the edge of a grave

and skinned to the bone

to feed the maggots below

I am the last remorse from a bloodstained heart –

kissed by an angel of terrible vengeance

upon my scabbed, blistered lips

to usher in the chaos storm

the harbingers have been heralding for eons

I am the night sky full of shadows –

lost in the vast reflection

of a tired moon

that wants its pound of flesh delivered

before pulling the tide of blood to shore

I am the cancer worming its way back home –

dripping with cum and sweat

between torn, soaked sheets

where lovers once slept in peace

before the disease of denial completely set in

I am not the first, but will be the last

I am not Hallelujah salvation

I am the final note in the song of annihilation

Some people say that we

always hurt the ones we love.

This isn’t the entire truth.

We also hurt the ones we hate.

And we hurt strangers.

And we hurt those we are basically

indifferent toward.

We hurt animals.

We hurt the environment.

We hurt ourselves.

We hurt using sticks.

We hurt using stones.

We hurt using words,

which actually hurts the worst,

because the tongue is a knife

that slices quite precisely

when wielded by those who like to hurt.

I guess my point is this:

The humans are all fucked up.

Update:

Here are some links to poems that have come out this past week –

A New Attraction – Poems and Poetry

Tortoise and the Hare – Tuck Magazine

I Would Change the Title – Tuck Magazine

Trump Hand – Poems-for-All (1294)

Survival Instincts – Dead Snakes

Et tu – Dead Snakes

Collapsing Organs – Dead Snakes

Campaign of Confusion – Dissident Voice

Pry into the Blood – Yellow Chair Review

On Being Real – The Tower Journal

             Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar

A heart full of Christ’s blood

A liver saturated with the piss of Dionysus

A mind that flashes back and forth

between a faithful love of light

and the temptations calling from the darkness

There are angels soaring in the heavens

but there are snakes down here in the grass

A desperate search for higher truth

A crashing tide of little white lies

A body with legs that can walk

all day and night toward the siren

or

A body with a bruised and broken back

lacking the strength to rise out of bed

A womb with promises of new karma

A grave that yawns with a final seduction

A silent meditation on the path toward peace

A violent world that cannibalizes its own flesh

A fiery halo adorning the crown of ascended masters

A rag of salt for thieves with wounded hands

There is always a fresh hope in the next step

but there are always new challenges that lie ahead

I long for a time that never was.

I’ve been seeking after an illusion all my life.

The truth is just a crashing wave…a rise…a fall.

All my eggs were smashed while still in the basket

but at least I had a final scrambled meal to devour.

Luck has nothing to do with fate

but choice has everything to do with the fall.

Life is a question without answer.

Love is a song without a voice.

I always try to say too much

but never wind up speaking my mind.

I’ll lay down softly in a field of poppies.

I’ll meet you later on the right side of the throne.

I’ll dive in after if you start drowning

but will likely end up remaining in the depths ever after.

My heart is a fire without a gauge.

My mind is a bomb that already engaged the target.

There is nothing here except the rubble.

There is no one home except for thieves.

I tried my hand at being honest

but all it brought me were these empty palms.

I miss the feeling of being in love.

It has been too long since my heart soared.

My lips are dry and chapped,

longing for the sweet kiss

from a woman

who can bring some moisture into my world.

I miss the genuine earnestness of pillow talk,

of having someone I trust beside me

to confide in, and to whom I can offer my ready ear

when she needs a shoulder to lean on.

My thoughts are tired and lazy,

lost in the idle twists and turns

of my own lonely consciousness.

I miss the innocence of romance,

the electricity of fingertip caresses,

the comfort of companionship,

and the primal energy of a burgeoning relationship.

My emotions are ragged and torn,

seeking the solace

of a merciful angel

who can sew my spirit back into whole cloth.

I miss the feeling of being in love.

It has been too long since my heart was full.

It feels like my nerves

are being slashed

with an electric whip

Hobbling around

like an old decrepit man

After all the damage

that I’ve done to this body

I’m just thankful

it’s still in as good of condition as it is

but every few months

my back tightens up

as if Brutus

just stuck his knife in

all the way to the hilt

It’s a lazy overcast afternoon

which provides the perfect opportunity

to rest and hopefully heal

Maybe I can use the pain

to reach a state of consciousness

that leads to Nirvana

A few deep breaths

A few Hail Marys

There is no physical pain

This world is an illusion

Yea, just keep repeating the mantra

until enlightenment arrives

or it’s time to take the next dose of medicine