By: Scott Thomas Outlar

Alkalizing Spirit

Pineal gazing
to quiet the mind
and usher consciousness
toward a single point
of higher awareness

beyond the frantic process
of thinking in circles
petting the ego
and arguing with self
until silence eventually
wins center stage

Solitary excursion
into the depths
offers expansion
outside the boundaries
of time and space

The empty void
of dark entropy
when followed along
a narrow path
explodes into light

as the soul dissolves
back into alignment
with source

###
 
Kerosene Creases

Skeleton sky
full of ribs and keys
pulling apart

There are fires gathering
in the folds of your flag

A little birdie
stole my secrets
with its tongue
bleeding steadily
along the electric wire

Too many watchmen
babbling the wrong warning
atop a tower of idols

Muddled messages
stare back blankly
from the reflection
of muddied waters

Better tend to your shadows
the only herald that can save us

###
 
Medication May Cause Nausea

but I’m becoming spoiled
with age and comfort

now I only grow mildly annoyed
at every minor problem that arises

and the world doesn’t melt down
more than seven times an hour

even as the sand spills out

my addiction to sugar
is not just a verse
that I’m working to extract
every morsel from
before my dying hunger

loses all its muster

and my reason
for staying alive today
is to honor the dozen
reprieves I was granted
during the chime
of midnight bells
when faith and courage
were sorely lacking

but the drugs were in abundance
yet my bones were never broken

but your face is like a ghost’s scar
yet my eyes are clean and sober

and God only knows
what the future might hold
if these battered legs
learned to climb again

and just stop to think
what could be foretold
if even half of this
pathos and paranoia
was silenced in transfusion

so if you’re going to put me under
make sure the lobotomy reaches deep
into every hidden crevice
to suck dry all the damning shadows

but I was begging for the light of love
yet the sun had earned its harsh reputation

but I knew you before the break
yet the pieces don’t always fit as one

and if you feel
slightly ill at ease

that’s just the bitter taste
burning through the tract

###
 
For a Soul Friend

The only way
to begin a poem
is in the moors

where dreams breathe
beneath the waves
of shadow

and eyes still glow
behind black hair
draped as a curtain

upon the scene
where new acts emerge
with each turning season

The only way
to catch a ghost
is with a net

of whispered notes
singing silicon visions
across the screen

where memories
are given birth
as their moment arrives

###

Scott Thomas Outlar is originally from Atlanta, Georgia. He now lives and writes in Frederick, Maryland. His work has been nominated multiple times for both the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. He guest-edited the Hope Anthology of Poetry from CultureCult Press as well as the 2019-2023 Western Voices editions of Setu Mag. He is the author of seven books, including Songs of a Dissident (2015), Abstract Visions of Light (2018), Of Sand and Sugar (2019), and Evermore (2021 – written with co-author Mihaela Melnic). Selections of his poetry have been translated and published in 14 languages. He has been a weekly contributor at Dissident Voice for the past eight and a half years.