Sunday, November 4, 2018

Burns Hot for Evolution
When the walls cave in
the laughter begins
in earnest
(mad, perhaps; but smiling, at least)
When the drugs fade out
the blood comes clean
after awhile
(depressed at first, but quickly fading)
When the old guard dies
the sex burns hot
for new future
(cuddle up with evolution)
When the plague breaks loose
the fever comes
with a black wave
(washing over, lay your head down, God is cancer)
When the New Age births
the stars all shift
in the cycle
(rain pours down, tide rise up, flood is coming)

Alpha (Adrenaline)/Omega (Saturation)
I saw you blinking/pulsing/glowing
on the far side of chaos
with whispers of light
guiding/cajoling ships out at sea
to come home and roost
on the shoreline (of your sweet comfort).
I heard you singing/weeping/wailing
from a ruptured sky
with diamonds of fire
torching/igniting hearts of the dead
to burst forth into life
with yellow resurrection (of your primal passion).
I felt you loving/lusting/longing
in the empty bed of loneliness
with purest thought of night
exciting/enticing thoughts of the truth
to dream their way to flesh
and taste the core (of your bleeding open sex).

Quarter Mile to the Sun
I am never alone
because I walk
the midnight path
of shadows
knowing the secret
kept in silence
that everyone is suffering
to their own degree
and now
in spite of the truth
a slow dissolve
into the sidewalk
where empty hours
burrow their boredom
between the balance
of dusk and dawn
and now
the rooster gnashes its teeth
a screech, a wail,
a moan, a hark
unto the light
that knows only
how to burn

Exclamations in the Dark
I will slide with you
through the silhouette of days
and we will bark
in the shade
at the shadow of trees
and we will feast
on golden crumbs
at the feet of kings
and we will suck
on cherry juice
at the top of mountains
and we will lust
in our longings
toward war and peace
and we will die
a thousand deaths
just to be reborn
and we will laugh
as we dance
through waves of chaos
and we will scream
with shredded lungs
to make our point
Scott Thomas Outlar

Helpless I do not know if good intentions prevail among the elected, among the appointed, leaving me apprehensive that the fate ...