Scott Thomas Outlar

Lightning Rod

The garden of the gut –
flora and fauna,
lush as a jungle,
seeking perfect homeostasis
at all times
as nutrients are absorbed
and toxins are flushed
out of the central hub
to constantly create
the organic system anew
as a holy temple
where consciousness
beyond the pale
can be divined
from the source
and flooded
through the synapses of the mind
which acts as an antenna
by tuning in to vibrations
of electricity
and energies that pulse
from dimensions
which have yet to be
fully understood
by the incomplete theories
of modern science.

There is more happening here
than can be seen or heard.

There is a truth that burns
far hotter than any gadget can measure.

There are answers found within the soul
which cannot be discovered through simple observation.

There is a love which resonates at such a high frequency
that only a pure and open heart is able to experience it.

There is an infinite and eternal state of perfect peace
which can only be gleamed when the body and mind are completely clean.

There is a path which leads to the Kingdom of God
that is paved with intentions that glimmer more brightly than gold.

Revelations in the Marrow

The vastness of your scope
as I stare into the sky
reveals itself here and there
with glimpses into the absolute glimmer,
yet the mystery remains ineffable
in a context beyond that which
my primitive consciousness can grasp,
and I’m beginning to understand
that the seduction of your existential aloofness
is part and parcel
to the inherent romance in this experience of life.

I cannot come to know you fully
in the spaces of my mind,
but I can feel you in my guts,
in my heart, in my veins,
through my blood, in my bones,
down to the marrow.

These two open eyes
cannot gleam your greatness,
but when they are closed
I can see dimensions
beyond this physical plane of existence,
and I can sense the raw power
which pulses from your source
as it radiates outward
to be divined by those who truly seek.

The names which you have been called by
throughout the ages
mean nothing to me at this point –
simple words babbled from broken tongues
cannot capture the purity of your meaning;
it is your essence
to which I am addicted,
and I will never cease
reaching toward your unconditional love
until every urgent craving in my soul
has been satiated by your presence.

360

A gust of wind
breezes up from behind
and gently licks
the back of my neck
with a sweet caress,
urging me forward
toward the next stage
of evolution;
but I, never being
too much in a hurry,
spin around
in a quick shift
of fluid motion
and suck down
a large inhalation
of fresh air
deeply into my lungs,
holding the oxygen
at the core of my being,
feeling it flow
through the blood
and into my brain
where it snaps
dormant neurons
into a triggered sensation
of pure bliss.

The soothing salve
of Mother Nature
rekindles my passion,
and I dance
with a fervent
yet controlled rhythm,
completing the full rotation,
now taking
two steps at once
in the direction
of my destiny
which lies ahead
over the next horizon
calling from the distance
as a siren
to lure me back home
to the Source
where I can rest
at peace
as One.

Simple Sojourn

Simply stated
all I really need in this world
is a good woman
who will suck up all the blood
when my wounded heart
starts to pour out like a sieve
and who will spit it back
into my open veins
when it’s time for a transfusion

Simply stated
all I’ve ever wanted from life
is the next meal
when my stomach starts to scream
from primal hunger pains
along with just one small sip
from her holy chalice
when my throat is parched
and it feels as if
I’ll never touch her lips again

Simply stated
all I’ve ever sought after
is the highest truth
when I’m low down in the muck
searching for just a glimpse
of what it is to be as One
instead of always
wandering around divided
in this lonely sojourn
through the empty hours

Simply stated
all I’ve ever known
are complications
piled one on top of the other
confusing my mind
to the point of exhausted weariness
when all I really desire
is a little love
whispered gently into my weathered ears
from a simply stated voice.

Scott Thomas Outlar spends the hours flowing and fluxing with the ever SCOTchanging tide of the Tao River while laughing at and/or weeping over life’s existential nature. His words have appeared recently in venues such as Revolution John, Burningword Literary Journal, Medusa’s Kitchen, and A New Ulster. Links to his chapbook and other published work can be found at 17numa.wordpress.com.