I sense an Apocalyptic storm brewing right outside my windows. Streaks of electric lightning tendrils reach out and rip through the evening air, crackling with a violent urge toward desolation and destruction. The howling winds screech with the panicked sounds of Karmic Retribution on the move. The cycle is turning once more, and I am caught in the clutches of its strangling precision.

A thunderous roar booms, shaking the house and rattling my bones as it heralds the approaching tornado. It attacks with a powerful lust for carnage and mayhem, crashing without mercy into the walls which have, up to this point, been precariously keeping me safe. But now their structure bends as they begin to crumble all around me. My whole world is coming to pieces as a maelstrom of chaos and confusion wreaks havoc upon my fragile, weathered consciousness.

There is no escape. There is no safe haven toward which to flee. There is only the descent…the abyss…the fall…the end.

But then, at the edge of total devastation, in a moment of clarity that swarms like a flash of Revelation flooding through my neuron synapses, the realization enters my mind that my world already collapsed long ago. So what matters one more dance with the cruel fate of chaos? What matters one more hellish tumble closer toward my ultimate destiny of dust and ash? I was born into this world to one day die, but so too was I born to eventually rise.

Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar

Three new poems added today:

Like a Thief in the Night – Your One Phone Call

Order Ab Chao – Dissident Voice

From Whence It Came – Muddy River Poetry Review

Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar

A Sudden Descent Brought on by Exhaustion

breaking…breaking…breaking…
broken
collapse

Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar

Be true to thyself, and in this way you cannot help but be true to everyone else.

Eight poems published today:

It’s a Power Thing – Social Justice Poetry

Red Lips – Horror, Sleaze and Trash

Corruption – Horror, Sleaze and Trash

Holes in the Hive – Horror, Sleaze and Trash

‘Tis the Season – Horror, Sleaze and Trash

Elusive – Wilderness House Literary Review

Truth – Wilderness House Literary Review

Homeward Bound – Wilderness House Literary Review

It sure makes a blog post easier when you can just flake out at the end of the night and post a bunch of links to poems you’ve published on various sites throughout the day. But don’t get any funny ideas because that shit also takes a hell of a lot of work on the front end.

Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar

Sometimes in life there will come storms of utter chaos that blow through with terrible ferocity, uprooting every tree in sight, destroying hundreds of years worth of growth, and leaving the fields barren, cold and empty.  The only thing that can be done after such a cataclysmic event is say, “Oh well,” and then put your hands back in the soil and start planting new seeds for a future season.

Crash Course

Absolute exhaustion
is the rusted death nail
pierced into the side of my frayed mind
that leads to the golden resurrection
of my misplaced forgotten soul

I have fucked up so many times in my life that it would take another entire lifetime to try and count them up. But every once in awhile I get something right…and it makes every mistake I’ve lived through seem worth while…it puts every challenge I’ve undertaken into a new perspective…it makes the trials, tests and tribulations of this human experience seem necessary. Sometimes I grow a little bit as a person, and suddenly I remember what it means to play a part in this constantly unfolding process, to feel, to truly be alive…

I almost forgot what it was to actually feel. But lately I’ve been getting a dose straight to the head/to the heart. Bring it on.

Also, sometimes I remember that my Father passed away fourteen months ago, and, out of nowhere, it breaks my god damn heart.

Eight poems published the past couple of days:

A Primal Roar – Of/With

The Enemy of My Enemy – Expound

Blood and Urine – Expound

Crane the Neck, Bow the Back, Get on with the Show – Expound

System Malfunction – Expound

Memorabilia – Eye on Life Magazine

Adrenaline – Eye on Life Magazine

What I Want for Christmas – Eye on Life Magazine

Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar

Breaking…Break it…Broken…Smash it…then put it all back together…pretend all is right as rain…make believe life is a perfect persuasion toward peace…utopia is just right around the corner…animal nature is just an illusion…angel consciousness is all that exists…suck on that mirage…taste that desert dirt…crash in that sand dune…face that brutal reality…lick it clean…dry your wounds…say your prayers…take your vitamins…yea…keep playing that game…it’s all roses…no thorns…just…drain…the…venom…then…spit…forth…your…antidote…

Life is a fickle creature, constantly changing, rearranging, shifting, fluxing, flowing, fucking things up when they seem perfect, rising new life up from the grave when it all seems like naught but ashes…it’s unexplainable…it’s not meant to be understood…it is an enigma…it is a cliche…it is a hardcore blast to the head…it is a final whisper in the darkest hour…it is a new light in the breaking dawn…it is the catastrophe that brings chaos…it is the higher state of emergent order…it is a blackout…it is a whitewash…it is a crisis…it is cancer…it is light breaking through the dam…it is love resurrecting itself at all costs…it is the great overcoming…it is the final emergence…it was…it is…is shall ever be…

Two poems published today:

Without Answer – Poems and Poetry

Shifting Rhythms of the Symphony – Halcyon Magazine (Spring 2015)

Also had a piece (Sensitive) accepted for the upcoming debut issue of Culture Trend which should be out sometime next month.

As much as I try to pretend that all I care about is creating my legacy as a writer…it just isn’t true…I do have a heart…and I’d like for it to be fulfilled at some point…

Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar

I can’t ever say what I feel
because it’s too strong…
always on the verge of starting a fire…
so I blunt it out with dead abstractions,
else I get too close to God.

As far as blog posts go, this is about as lame as they come…but I’ve got nothing to say (or I’m just getting lazy) so I’m pleading the fifth, except to say this…I had a couple poems published today:

Chasing the Dragon – Dissident Voice

On the Prowl – Mad Swirl

Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar

Original content? Ok. Pucker up, butter cup, ’cause here it comes in waves. Psych. I’ve got nothing left to offer at this late hour. I couldn’t even possibly wing it. I’m just too damn tired…too worn down…too broken…too flayed…too massacred…too given over to the dark side that only longs for sleep. I could never pull something out of the hat that had any type of residual value. There is not an ounce of profit left in my sold out soul. There is no silver gleaming in this bag that I traded for the savior’s flesh. I hung him up there on the cross myself. I licked the sweat off his ripped apart wrists as the blood dripped down in the blistering sun. Fuck all, that even sounds dark to me…and I’m used to the shit that spews forth from my consciousness in these types of moments. Well, why not keep pushing the envelope? Why not shit on the soul of the collective consciousness? Why not put a dagger in the heart of true love? Why not kiss off and call it complete? It’s all just a joke. It’s all going broke. No, wait, that’s me…but I’ll recover…the fortune is getting closer by the day…planting seeds…laying a foundation upon which the empire can be built…

Three poems published today at different venues:

Blooming Like Winter – Poems and Poetry

Taking Measure of the Situation – Social Justice Poetry

Whatever Works for Ya – The Screech Owl

Volume 17 Issue 1 of The First Line arrived in the mail today. It contains my short story ‘Stoking the Fire’. Originally submitted as a poem, the editors made a wise decision and asked me if it could be converted into a different form. Upon seeing their notes, I fully agreed to the switch. It’s always nice to work with people you trust. For the most part this has been my experience so far while submitting and publishing. Of course, every once in awhile some complete fool will try and fuck around with something they have no business altering. But these types of failed critics are easy to walk away from after having shaken off the dust.

Karma will crush the impostors while elevating the higher breed to the loftiest heights. Christ, I always come back to the ‘evolve or die’ type consciousness. It’s pretty ingrained in my psyche at this point (thanks a lot, Nietzsche).

Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar