The Little Things That Heal

Zero-Point Transition
 
This is not a poem about me
even though I have already used the word me twice
and I will use the word I thrice
by the time it’s through
 
Lose your smaller self
to the source
and you just might find
something bigger
smiling back
at your simpler soul

My poem “Just to Be on the Safe Side” was published recently on the Dissident Voice Sunday Poetry Page. Thank you to Angie Tibbs for all the work she does each week!
 
There is also a recording of it available here on my SoundCloud account.

Two Poems by Scott Thomas Outlar

It was an honor to have two poems appear recently in the debut issue of The Electronic Pamphlet…

The Electronic Pamphlet

​Packing a Punch

Not every poem
has to hit a homerun
pertaining to the wit
with which it is presented.

It is not perfection
that is expected,
only the pursuit thereof.


A Rage Most Sublime

She dances with Shiva –
a controlled frenzy
taken to the furthest edge
of a precarious precipice,
laughing with thunder,
alive with electric chaos
pulsing through each
burning tendril, tantalizing,
reaching out to touch
the distance we cannot fathom…

She screams with a nuclear reaction–
a crazed momentum
careening past the urge to cease,
giving way to fervent temptations,
stretching out to taste the Beast,
seized by silent surrender,
and Revelation is
a sacrifice to the gods of war
who want more, more, more,
demanding blood at the altar…

She is the dripping chalice –
a chosen huntress
roaring with the scales of judgment,
passing righteous verdicts
rendered nightly from the moon
as waves crash…

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But Tonight, We Dance

Something Sacred in Our Sadness
 
If I write
one more time
about the sky
and how it’s
set to fall
at any moment,
how many chances
will I have left
when the rain
finally does
begin to pour?
 
If I dance, alone,
on a bridge
in the middle
of the woods,
is that the same
as on a stage
somewhere, someday, somehow?
 
All you ever needed
was to bless us;
all I want to do
is laugh and smile;
 
yet when we weep,
please let it be
in joy
even though
we know
this sadness
heals with love.
 
They said this carpet
knew how to fly
when guided proper,
but forgot to mention
that the engine
could sometimes stall;
 
and what we’ve learned,
passed down
throughout the ages,
is that the magic
comes from our minds
when we truly
decide to soar.

Visions of Verse (3-25-17) taken by Holly Holt (2)My first full-length poetry collection, Happy Hour Hallelujah, is available here through CTU Publishing. Thank you to everyone who has picked up a copy (or yet plans to). Your support is greatly appreciated! Selah

Light, Love, Life

Something Shifting in the Sky
 
Another poet with a bled and broken heart –
oh, gag me with both of your silver spoons
 
Another poet with a jealous ego –
hell, I thought art was designed to be more creative by half
 
Another poet with a grudge to grind –
here, let me kiss first your chip and then your shoulder
 
I have yet to see it all
(and surely never will)
but I have seen enough
 
to start singing thrice
on every Sunday
about the trinity
of God, glory
and holy grace
 
without fear
of any repercussion
 
because the light and love offered by life
is not a theory of guilt
I would weep for
or ever wear
as a millstone
instead of this
smile.


The Visions of Verse event this weekend was an absolute joy. It was good to see Cliff Brooks, Holly Holt, Chani Zwibel, and Shane Etter; great friends from the SCE. Just as much a pleasure to watch them all read.
 
The audio from my set is up now here on SoundCloud.

Down and Out/Up, Up and Away

Funny How It Goes Sometimes
 
Considering how everything was wrong
when our ship went down,
the situation could not have
ended up any better.
 
Insert your next parable here
while I keep busy
never figuring out
this paradox called…
 
Shift so subtly with the spin;
cycle when the circle sings.
 
Open wide my weathered ears;
bless me with the sounds of spring.
 
Considering all I failed to learn,
I’m still happy being dumb.
Basking in new season’s light,
I realize life’s just begun.

Visions of Verse tomorrow is going to be dope. Poetry is the only high I need in life. Though I’m surely not adverse to several other methods of reaching out and touching sky.
Visions of Verse (3-25-17) promo 2
Five of my poems were published here at Medusa’s Kitchen earlier this month. Thank you to Kathy Kieth for hosting such a great site.

Feed Your Head

Midnight Wonder/Wander
 
Head in the clouds,
soul on the brink
 
of salvation and/or annihilation
at any/every moment.
 
The signs in the sky
appear to point out our future in space.
 
The signs in my mind
seek to find the path home to source.
 
But the signs on the street
are marketed for entirely different ends,
singing their songs about realtors
who have erected
new neighborhoods
as far as the eye can see
in this suburban wonderland
(Call Alice;
she might know
the truth by now).
 
Chopping down trees,
chasing deer
from their home.
Come meet me at midnight,
my friend;
we’ll stare straight
into heaven’s void together.
I too know
what it is
to roam.


Thank you to Raja Williams for posting “Platitudes toward Paradise” at the CTU Publishing site recently. The poem is an excerpt from my full-length collection, Happy Hour Hallelujah.
 

Cleansing Karma under the Sun

Just to Be on the Safe Side
 
A day with so much shine
even the shadows
wouldn’t dare
try to tame us.
 
But night always falls,
same as the sun,
same as the stars,
same as our nature,
same as these
bombs.
 
Protection offered by the light
still goes a long way
in life,
but a nuclear missile
defense system
isn’t the worst idea
either.
 
All I ever want to say is something perfect,
but I’ll keep settling for less every time
as long as the process comes with a promise
to continue urging me forward…
 
with a kiss, with a caress,
with a push, with a shove,
with whatever force
equals out
to evolution
in the end.


It would be preposterous to claim that I was blinded by the light. So I won’t. But I will swear to the fact that it did give me a nice buzz (and a cleansing sweat).
 
Two of my poems (Manifesting Minutes All the While; and Burning down the Throne) have been published today here in Tuck Magazine.