Scott Thomas Outlar- Two Poems

Killer Craving

  

itchy veins

crawl

underneath scab laden skin

wanting out

for the hunt

down to the alley

where the rats dwell

looking fat and juicy

smelling of piss and vinegar

with a jugular

ripe for the picking

sink teeth right in

lean back

and let the flood

wash over

in cool waves

of melted fire butter

a softness

to cleanse the hunger

a victim

to kill the craving

a nice spot

against the brick wall

to lean against

with a view

of the slivered moon

sliced perfectly

in thin, translucent air

gravity apparent

but still a sense

of floating

of emerging

of being birthed

anew

for a moment

satisfied

at peace

until the veins

begin to twitch

eager

for the next

sacrifice

Musical Chairs

  

Salty animal flesh

from the belly of a swine

with brown sugar

cooked on top

and various wines to sip –

a feast fit for a King

or a beggar,

a god or a captive,

a warrior or a coward,

a big dog or a slave.

It’s all the same

while they’re spinning

around the sun

in karmic circles

and waiting in turn

for the next revolution.

Scott Thomas Outlar lives simply, spending his time eating, sleeping, reading, researching, taking meditative walks, gazing at stars, contemplating existential quandaries, listening to music, drinking wine, and writing prose-fusion poetry dedicated to the Phoenix Generation.  He can be reached at 17Numa@gmail.com.