I would change the world if I could.

Turn up the fire during Summer.

Make it more frigid come the Fall.

I would change my mind

about wanting to change

the collective mind.

They are always going to be that way.

They are always going to do those things.

I would change the color of my soul.

Embrace the shadow until it glows.

I would change the structure of the holy sign.

Break it down to chaos…then watch it rise.

I would change the way that water flows.

Send it up the ivory tower as a flood.

Drown the Corporate Beast in its lair.

I would change how often war is fought.

Make it more common…then call it off.

Let all the scores be settled first,

then pull the plug…have peace on Earth.

I would change the high note to a peak.

Now nothing less than plateau dreams.

Blood rush frenzy…summit fever sleep.

I would change the way the words lay out.

Flip the script with a rising dawn.

Lace the sky…with a song

in the New Age.

Two completed weeks without alcohol

and now the initial euphoria has begun to wear off,

but the intention toward good health

still burns hot in the embers of my heart.

When a plateau is reached

there are three basic choices that can be made –

hold steady and chill out,

taking in the new sights

from a level you haven’t been at for awhile,

lose focus and start to slip

back down the mountain to the point

from whence you began the climb,

or keep the head held high, take a deep breath,

and carry on in an upward direction

toward the next peak moment

where an even better view will provide

a higher perspective of the overall journey.

Stages of evolution

provide tests and trials of progression,

and present challenges

that serve as opportunities for further adaptation.

Fourteen days are not enough

to change every bad habit energy

that I’ve developed over the many years of debauchery,

but fourteen days are just enough

to provide the courage and inner resolve

necessary to continue forward toward the goal

of perfect peace, radiant health,

unconditional love, and high vibration.

Give me two more weeks along this course

and watch how the burgeoning shine

transforms into a full-fledged  fire.

These are the links to the twenty poems I’ve had published in the first week of June. I’m four away from having 300 published so far in 2015. I don’t know exactly what that means…except that maybe I don’t get out much lately.

Inevitable – Mad Swirl

Balance Points – Poems and Poetry

Sitting Pretty – Dissident Voice

A Friendly Reminder – The Poet Community

Learning to Sing the Word – Medusa’s Kitchen

Heart of Hearts – Medusa’s Kitchen

Kind of – Medusa’s Kitchen

Facing the Cycle – Medusa’s Kitchen

Left Wondering – Poems and Poetry

Selling Out Cheap – The Screech Owl

Crossroads – Belle Reve Literary Review

Do Not Answer – Belle Reve Literary Review

And Streets Lined with Gold – Belle Reve Literary Review

No Time for Worries – Belle Reve Literary Review

The Marrow – Dead Snakes

A Mouth Full of Ashes – Dead Snakes

Taking Measure – Enclave

Substance vs. Style – Visual Verse

So Good It Hurts – Exercise Bowler

Early Morning Thoughts after a Great Date – Calliope Magazine

             Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar

My voice is itching for raw meat

something bloody that I can scream

It has been too long since I sang that song

where everything burns to the ground

These seeds we planted didn’t grow at all

when season changes I will till the soil

A thousand times that I have tried

so one more try won’t crack my mind

Scratched up lungs and coughing fits

I wipe my hands of all the rest

This cancer has me by the balls

my knees are scabbed from where I crawl

Nails in the floor, fear in the sky

one thousand more stabs in my side

It’s flesh and bone, it’s black and white

sweet soul kiss source when the body dies

I had 44 poems and two short stories appear this month in 20 different venues. I’d like to sincerely thank all the editors and publishers at the following publications for allowing me to contribute:

Snapping Twig, Dead Snakes, WritingRaw, Visual Verse, Degenerates: Voices for Peace, Poems and Poetry, Crab Fat Magazine, The Haunted Traveler, Crack the Spine, Illya’s Honey, Section 8 Magazine, UFO Gigolo, Dissident Voice, Yellow Chair Review, Social Justice Poetry, Tuck Magazine, VerseWrights, Leaves of Ink, The Bitchin’ Kitsch, and Fish Food Magazine.

What is the measure of a man?

What is it that determines who we are?

Is it the genes we are born with?

Is it the millions of years of ancestral DNA?

Is it the name we are given when we enter this world?

Is it the way we are raised

and the values instilled in us through childhood?

Is it what we are taught in school

through textbooks written by strangers

about a history we were not around for?

Is it the jobs we take for money?

Is it the work we are inspired to do?

Is it the food we eat?

Is it the clothes we drape upon our flesh?

Is it the company we choose to keep?

Is it the way we treat our fellow humans?

Is it the way we handle the circumstances which arise

during the course of life’s ups and downs?

Is it the thoughts that run rampant through our mind?

Is it the words we speak?

Is it the songs we sing?

Is it the actions we perform?

Is it the truth we try and uphold?

Is it the little white lies we tell?

Is it our connection with something greater than self?

Is it the blood which flows through our veins?

Is it the condition of our body?

Is it how we adjust and adapt

as evolution brings trials and tribulations

into our experience to learn from?

Is it the way we relate to the world around us?

Is it how we treat those who are less fortunate?

Is it our fate?

Is it our destiny?

Is it our karma?

Is it the freewill choices we make?

Is it the beliefs we have?

Is it how many years we spend upon the earth?

Is it how we handle the inescapable truth

that a yawning grave awaits us in the end?

Is it the suffering we endure?

Is it the joy we experience?

Is it the places we travel?

Is it the people we meet?

Is it the lovers we share our hearts with?

Is it the loves we lose?

Is it the dreams we have?

Is it the goals we achieve?

Is it the aspirations we can’t quite reach?

Is it the family we start?

Is it the type of children we bring into the world

to take our place when we bow out?

Is it the happiness we spread?

Is it the sadness we feel?

Is it whether or not we reach a state

of perfect peace and enlightenment?

Is it where we lay our bones down at night?

Is it the size of the house we live in?

Is it the type of car we drive?

Is it how many miles we walk?

Is it the height of the mountain we scale?

Is it the depths of the abyss we dive into?

Is it the amount of jewels, trinkets, and baubles we amass?

Is it the simplicity found when we shed

the skin of this mortal flesh?

Is it in the seeking?

Is it the final relinquishment of the search?

Is it in the legacy we leave behind?

(5/30/15)

Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar

I’ve had eight poems come out this week in six different venues:

Flows Freely – Dead Snakes

Absolute Void – Dead Snakes

Detoxification – Dead Snakes

Bite Back – The Bitchin’ Kitsch

Decisions, Decisions – Poems and Poetry

Maybe in the Next Age – Leaves of Ink

Learning to Sing the Word – Dissident Voice

Enter the Rose – VerseWrights

Blissed out under the sun

with a new wave forming in the distance

Ready to catch the tide

and return to the conscious space of pure thankfulness

Thankful for the flow and the flux

the highs and the lows

Happy to have survived the fallout

because the grass is now getting greener

I sold my soul cheap

but was able to earn it back

through humility and surrender

to a power much greater

than any dark force or worldly institution

I gave into the desires of the flesh

thinking that vices could bring me joy

but then was shown that virtues

of the heart, mind, and soul

can always trump any negative hand on the table

Building back up after being beaten down

and looking forward to the next challenge

because it is the tests which life brings on

that help us become the best person possible

if we only are willing to face them head on with courage

and allow the lessons to truly sink in deep

I won a thousand dollars in the lottery,

but it wouldn’t even put a down payment

on the type of dreams I’ve been fantasizing about,

so I tossed half the wad into the gutter

and doused the rest in ketchup

so it could easily slide down my throat

along with the ninety-nine cent frozen meal

I spent the rest of my winnings on.

When I told this to my accountant

he started flipping the fuck out,

slamming his hands on the desk,

getting flush in the face,

hyperventilating like a fiend,

and cursing my name to the grave…

completely unprofessional behavior

in my humble opinion.

I just grinned and shrugged my shoulders.

Easy come, easy go, I laughed.

But you’re dead broke, you bum, he raved.

Like hell I am –

I just wrote a thousand dollar poem…

I’ll sleep like a baby tonight, sir.

I watched him clutch his chest and spasm

as I opened the door and turned to walk out.

You’re fired, you filthy swine, I called

out over my shoulder

as I heard his heart explode

in the tiny little office prison where he collapsed.