Tuesday, December 16, 2014

Scott Thomas Outlar- Three Poems

The Waiting Game
Waiting for the buzz to hit,
wanting it,
needing it,
losing patience,
looking around, twiddling thumbs,
tapping feet, watching the clock,
taking another sip of wine,
getting fed up –
ah, fuck it,
I’ll do this sober…
Putting the pen to paper,
raising the ink to heaven,
crashing it back to earth,
standing at the edge,
gazing out over the abyss,
diving in,
going somewhere, anywhere,
seeking something, anything,
wanting, needing,
getting…nothing –
oh, fuck it,
I’ll wait for the buzz…

Which Came First, the Murder or the Fuck
I used to think
that eggs bought
at supermarkets
to be fried sunny side up
or scrambled
were from little baby chicken fetuses
that we humans were aborting
in our pan
before shoveling them into our stomachs.
An ex-girlfriend corrected my ignorance
one day, putting me on
the straight and narrow path
to realize
that an egg
is just an egg –
there was no seed,
it is not murder.
Later, I gave my seed
unto my girl,
but the pill sure as hell
aborted that.

How Low Can You Go
The world died
when she did
when he did
when they did
when you did
when I did
when we died together
in Apocalyptic rapture
Remorse came
but was
quickly shoved away
by glad-handling
coffin salesmen
of the worst kind
lower than a lawyer
lower than a used car
lower than a liar
lowest of them all
sucking on your pain
profit while you’re grieving
Hand on your back
eyes cast low
such a solemn occasion
in their office
with all the ornamentation
and fancy furniture
Funeral parlor
makes you feel small
when at the most vulnerable
A wake of vultures
feasting on the flesh
before it’s lowered into the ground

     Scott Thomas Outlar lives simply, spending his time reading, researching, walking, and writing prose-fusion works dedicated to the Phoenix Generation.  He has appeared in Dissident Voice, Jellyfish Whispers, Aphelion, Loose Change Magazine, Fuck Fuction, The Fanzine, and various other venues.  Scott can be reached at 17Numa@gmail.com.

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