After the Storm

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

Freeze frame
the free fall
as the rocks grow perilously close
so I can skate
by the skin of my neck
and save this precious truth
before it’s shattered all to bits

There is only so much to give
but we keep giving a little more
until the small things
eventually lead to big change…
but there’s no way to cash out
when you’ve been robbed blind
during a sleep filled only with illusions

Half-hearted daydreams
release the hounds of apathy
and it is bloody in the graveyard
when rotten worms begin their feast

One poem published today at Dissident Voice – Come and Conquered

Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar

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