Friday, November 28, 2014

Truth


Truth is an underbelly
that not many people
ever want to look at.
It sounds good in the abstract-
people always seem to clamor for it,
to demand that they be given it
from those on high.
But when the rubber meets the road,
that is to say,
when the shit hits the fan,
there just aren’t a whole lot
of people brave enough, willing enough,
intelligent enough, to face it, to
deal with it in all its Awesomeness.
The truth hurts, and that’s the truth.
Most people would rather have
the little white lie
that helps them fall asleep at night,
telling them everything is alright,
rather than acknowledge the truth
of the matter, which is that
everything is not alright.
War is the truth.
Famine is the truth.
Poverty is the truth.
Death is the truth.
But people want to live forever,
so they hide from the truth,
they ignore the truth, until that
final breath when the truth comes
calling, whether they like it or not.
Truth is a destructive force;
it tears down all the fake plastic walls
that people build up around
themselves all their lives.
Truth can be a bastard and a bitch,
remorseless; without emotion, it
trudges its way forward through
time and space, taking no prisoners.
Truth does not hold hands;
it doesn’t play patty-cake.
Truth is a sharp knife;
it cuts with absolute precision.
Truth is the most powerful force
in all existence,
and that is why it is scary as hell.
Truth does not play favorites;
it doesn’t care about petty trivialities
such as skin color, political leaning,
or how much cheese someone
has stored away for a rainy day.
Truth is an Apocalyptic fire;
it is a final Revelation;
it is an end and a beginning.

Scott Thomas Outlar

Truth


Truth is an underbelly
that not many people
ever want to look at.
It sounds good in the abstract-
people always seem to clamor for it,
to demand that they be given it
from those on high.
But when the rubber meets the road,
that is to say,
when the shit hits the fan,
there just aren’t a whole lot
of people brave enough, willing enough,
intelligent enough, to face it, to
deal with it in all its Awesomeness.
The truth hurts, and that’s the truth.
Most people would rather have
the little white lie
that helps them fall asleep at night,
telling them everything is alright,
rather than acknowledge the truth
of the matter, which is that
everything is not alright.
War is the truth.
Famine is the truth.
Poverty is the truth.
Death is the truth.
But people want to live forever,
so they hide from the truth,
they ignore the truth, until that
final breath when the truth comes
calling, whether they like it or not.
Truth is a destructive force;
it tears down all the fake plastic walls
that people build up around
themselves all their lives.
Truth can be a bastard and a bitch,
remorseless; without emotion, it
trudges its way forward through
time and space, taking no prisoners.
Truth does not hold hands;
it doesn’t play patty-cake.
Truth is a sharp knife;
it cuts with absolute precision.
Truth is the most powerful force
in all existence,
and that is why it is scary as hell.
Truth does not play favorites;
it doesn’t care about petty trivialities
such as skin color, political leaning,
or how much cheese someone
has stored away for a rainy day.
Truth is an Apocalyptic fire;
it is a final Revelation;
it is an end and a beginning.


Getting on the Level


The most important
realization/revelation
I have ever experienced
was when I was struck
by the fact
that I didn’t need
to worry
about being alone,
that I didn’t need
to look
at every female
who was attractive
as being a potential
bedmate,
soul mate,
or womb for my seed.
Once I was able
to look at every person
as being just another person,
all the subconscious worry
just melted away
like butter.
Sweet butter, singing like a symphony
from the stars
into my soul.
Once I was able
to stop putting
every attractive female
on a pedestal,
I was able to rise
and come in contact
with the high sound
of the holy spheres.


In a Pinch


When the stage lights go on,
whether it’s full stadium lighting
or just a single spotlight,
to state it simply,
there are those who are ready,
and there are those who aren’t.
Those who aren’t
tend not to matter much;
they might get laughed
or booed off the stage,
but that’s about it;
no real lasting memory is created
in the mind or heart
of anyone who saw the performance,
or, more to the point, lack of performance.
They simply disappear beneath the waves of history.
Those who are ready to answer the call
come in all shapes, sizes and styles.
Some of them seize the moment,
come out with both barrels blazing,
and basically own the place
from bell to bell.
Some start off more slowly,
work the crowd, get a rising tempo going,
build up to a crescendo, and then
bring the hammer down for a
grand finale.
Some do just enough
to keep the edge on,
never rising too high
or dipping too low,
just keeping a steady tension throughout.
Maybe what it all comes down to is this:
Who is in control of the light switch?


Co-Dependent


and now everyone else is dead
and you are old
and wrinkled
and are nothing
without the others who are all dead

Scott Thomas Outlar