August 1, 2015

SCOTT THOMAS OUTLAR: "RUSH HOUR", "YAWNING STARS", "FILL IN THE BLANKS"


 Scott Thomas Outlar survived the chaos of both the fire and the flood...barely. Now he spends the hours flowing and fluxing with the ever changing tide of the Tao River while laughing at and/or weeping over life's existential nature. His words have appeared recently in venues such as Yellow Chair Review, Dissident Voice, Poems-for-All, Tuck Magazine, and Clockwise Cat. Links to his published material can be found at 17numa.wordpress.com.




 
Rush Hour


The oil fields
are on fire
in an Apocalyptic blaze,
but the gasoline
still flows freely
from a million pumps
into a billion cars
that suck greedily
upon the teat
of a black gold feast,
guzzling petrol by the gallon
to serve rush hour needs
in a fast paced world,
before belching
the acidic fumes
into an increasingly cloudy sky,
poisoning the atmosphere
with a haze of smog
that hangs heavily
over all our heads
like an ominous bomb
ready to drop
its load of doom at any minute
to prove the theory
that nature
always gets the last laugh;
and fools
only quicken their pace
toward an already yawning grave
that doesn’t need any help
but sure as hell
won’t turn down the assistance
in filling the plot with bones,
covering them over with dirt,
and spinning the next cycle
in a give and take process
toward a fossilized future
laid to rest and waste.




Yawning Stars


I watched you yawn a universe into existence
I witnessed as you sang a cosmos into style

I saw you sigh, and the heavens roared
then you smiled, and the gods came alive

I felt you move, and the stars fell into rhythm
then you danced, and the planets cycled into their place

You closed your eyes, and the full moon shined
and when they opened, the sun blazed hot

Your passion flared, and the earth shook violently
but then you laughed, and all grew calm

You said Yes, and the gates flew open
Your power coursed through every wave

You spoke the Word, and the gospel was born
Your vibration, a serenade of the holy symphony

~Previously published in Dissident Voice





Fill in the Blanks


Hawk
in a tree

Rabbit
on the ground

Midnight hour

Shadow
falls

Silence
creeps

Darkness devours

~Scott Thomas Outlar

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