Wednesday, June 22, 2016

Poetry By Scott Thomas Outlar

Scott Thomas Outlar hosts the site where links to his published poetry, fiction, essays, and interviews can be found. His chapbook "Songs of a Dissident" was released in 2015 through Transcendent Zero Press and is available on Amazon. His poetry collections "Happy Hour Hallelujah" (CTU Publishing) and "Chaos Songs" (Weasel Press) are both forthcoming in 2016.

Losing Some Battles, Winning the War

Trying to find a suitable spot
to hammer out a poem in the woods
can sometimes be a daunting task
once the Summer swelter hits hardcore
and the creepy-crawlies
start coming out of the woodwork.

Mosquitos, bees, and other
bloodsucking things
make movement to the next bench
an absolute necessity.

Odd-colored spiders
with pinchers
that are far
from pacifistic
signal a second alarm,
and so the ship must set sail
away from such stormy seas
toward a safe harbor
which hopefully offers some peace.

Gnats, flies, and unidentified
species of insects
crawling up my legs
have marked the territory
of this third locale,
so it’s sayonara for now
because my nerves
are starting to fray,
but at least I was able
to place this ink on the page

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

(Recorded version via SoundCloud)

May the Force Be with You

There is no need
to weep
from fear
of a burning sky
or nuclear fallout.

It is not
the push of a red button
that has brought
unto this nation,
but a Chemical Apocalypse
that has poisoned
the hormonal balance
of many generations.

The glands
are out of whack,
and the blood
is a sludge
of hellfire toxins
cooked up and crafted
in laboratories funded
by The Medical
Industrial Death Machine.

The crazed corporations
want the populace asleep
as they creep
one step at a time
toward fulfilling the dream
of their nihilistic purge.

Look not to the bombs and missiles
that rain
violent war from above,
but toward
the source
of DNA
that is being
toyed with
and manipulated
by the madmen
that seek dominion
over this earth.

The golden key
to the core of creation
is the genetic code
that spans back
to the primordial soup.

Look not
to the oil wells
and goldmines
of ravaged resources,
but toward
the spawn
of a decadent breed
that hates humanity
and so weaves
a wicked web
of deceit
as a way to damage
and degrade
the pure consciousness
of those
who are still awake.

Open your eyes!
The Rubicon
was crossed
ages ago
while you were dozing,
and now the time
for drooling
like a stumbling zombie
has passed
the point
of being considered trendy.

Lines in the sand
are a mile wide,
and this is the day
to pick your side.

The continued regression
of the species
will end in devastation,
but a cleanse
of the guts
will begin to restore
a state
of homeostasis and peace
with a raw, electric,
living feast
that drives out
the parasitic Beast,
offering one final shot
at a leap
toward evolution.

Cast out the swine
and align
with the high
of a natural, organic
of progressive, providence pie.

The Final Ace

At the end of the line,
after every card is laid on the table,
after all the chips have been played,
it’s not about saying,
“I did it my way,”
so much as it is
about hoping
that I did it the right way.

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