Anarchic Breakfast. A Poem by Scott Thomas Outlar

 
 

Handle life

in the same way

with which you would

a delicate egg.
 
 

Hold it with care;

but know, also,

that there is a time

to cook

fat omelettes.
 
 
Bio:
Scott Thomas Outlar hosts the site 17Numa.wordpress.com where links to his published poetry, fiction, essays, interviews, reviews, live events, and books can be found. His work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Scott was a recipient of the 2017 Setu Magazine Award for Excellence in the field of literature. His words has been translated into Albanian, Afrikaans, Persian, Serbian, and Italian.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times his publications include All the Babble of the Souk and Cartoon Molecules collected poems and Key of Mist the recently published Tesserae translations from Spanish poets Guadalupe Grande and Carmen Crespo  visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author.  See Robin performing his work Performance (Leeds University)

And Streets Lined with Gold. A Poem by Scott Thomas Outlar

 
The homeless poet

stood outside the bar

in the cold

talking to anyone

who would listen.
 
 
He held a stack of papers

in his hands

that he gave away

to anyone who showed

the slightest interest.
 
 
He said they were free,

but anyone with half a heart

would give him a buck or two,

or at least some coins,

just enough for a cup of coffee.
 
 
He was a guru

in his own peculiar way,

and his words

were laced with a type

of apocalyptic strangeness –

full of velvet angels

with dark chocolate wings

receding down from heaven

to punish the normal

and bring chaos to the meek.
 
 
He was all mixed up inside,

but that was his role to play,

and it was all perfect,

and it was all beautiful –

whether he found a bed,

or whether he died in the street,
 
 
it was all ok,

because the angels were coming either way.
 
 
Scott Thomas Outlar lives a simple life in the suburbs, spending the days flowing and fluxing with the tide of the Tao River, marveling at the intricacies of life’s existential nature, and writing prose-fusion poetry dedicated to the Phoenix Generation. His words have appeared recently in venues such as Siren, Section 8, Midnight Lane Boutique, Dead Snakes, Mad Swirl, and Dissident Voice. His debut chapbook “A Black Wave Cometh” is forthcoming from Dink Press. More of Scott’s writing can be found at 17numa.wordpress.com.
 
 
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Toasting the gods. A Poem by Scott Thomas Outlar

 
 
Little Man-child
trying to play with the Big Boys
pretending to be gods
up on Olympus
 
Careful with the hubris
lest ye fall like Atlantis
with Eve and all her serpents
 
Take a rib and suck it
down to the marrow
trying to find a First Cause
in the belly of the feast
 
It’s the passion of the Beast
welcome to carnage city
bringing the chaos nightly
 
Come dance with Bacchus
who wears the grapevines
on his head as a halo
glowing with the spilt blood
captured in the glass that ever flows

 
 
Scott Thomas Outlar lives a simple life in the suburbs, spending the days flowing and fluxing with the tide of the Tao River, marveling at the intricacies of life’s existential nature, and writing prose-fusion poetry dedicated to the Phoenix Generation. His words have appeared recently in venues such as Siren, Section 8, Midnight Lane Boutique, Dead Snakes, Mad Swirl, and Dissident Voice. His debut chapbook “A Black Wave Cometh” is forthcoming from Dink Press. More of Scott’s writing can be found at 17numa.wordpress.com.
 
 
robin@artvilla.com
PoetryLifeTimes
Poetry Life & Times

editor@artvilla.com
www.artvilla.com
Artvilla.com

Waiting for Its Turn. A Poem by Scott Thomas Outlar

 
 
It might be dirty, bloody and wounded,
but at least its honest
at the end of the day
after working in the graveyard
to bury all the bones
that the others so quickly forget.
 
 
It might be scarred, numb and broken,
but at least it sleeps soundly
for a few hours after midnight
once the dirt is piled back
atop the six foot hole
that the worms will soon be swarming.
 
 
It might never have a lover,
it might never smile at a sunset,
it might never taste of passion,
but at least it gets the job done
no matter the conditions,
doing what no one else is willing,
it’s only reward the ash and dust.

 
 
20140919_190207
 
 
Scott Thomas Outlar lives a simple life in the suburbs, spending the days flowing and fluxing with the tide of the Tao River, marveling at the intricacies of life’s existential nature, and writing prose-fusion poetry dedicated to the Phoenix Generation. His words have appeared recently in venues such as Siren, Section 8, Midnight Lane Boutique, Dead Snakes, Mad Swirl, and Dissident Voice. His debut chapbook “A Black Wave Cometh” is forthcoming from Dink Press. More of Scott’s writing can be found at 17numa.wordpress.com.
 
 
robin@artvilla.com
PoetryLifeTimes
Poetry Life & Times

editor@artvilla.com
www.artvilla.com
Artvilla.com