of the Fission
Prometheus tasted the fire
on the tip of my tongue,
too explosive to steal,
and he wept like a broken god
hanging on the galactic cross
as the sky lost all light,
dimming under the weight of darkness,
waiting for the next eruption
while space folded inward upon itself
into a state of entropy.
I only exhale
when the goddess begs for warmth,
and my breath is nuclear
in a field of salted earth…
planning to erect pillars in her honor
as the heavens roar
and the blanket of oblivion
stretches out to cover us in kisses of absolution.
Two fish swim through the ocean above us,
pissing wine from the barrel of Aquarius,
and Dionysus dances in maddened revelry,
cackling along with the chaos
of our orgasmic frenzied fervor
as the focus of my two eyes is shattered…
the blinded orbs roll back in my head
to touch a zero-point ascension –
a crescendo, a climax, a cancer,
a new wave cometh to burn.
Distance makes the heart grow fonder,
so it’s no surprise
why I’ve forever been
completely head over heels
for a source that cannot be seen.
My spirit yearns with a fervent passion
after that ineffable mystery of creation
which has no tangible touch
but can always be felt
at the innermost core of intuition
where the soul of the matter
is guided ever-closer to truth.
Subjectively, I dance across
the woven web of synchronicity,
laughing at the materialists
who scoff with objective displeasure
at all concerns they cannot fathom.
What need have I
for atomistic eyes
when the most beautiful visions
are found deep inside?
Answers arrive in waves
when least expected
from a plane of existence
beyond this world of time and form,
and space is just a place
where I can roam freely
in magnetic dreams
which align my electric pulse
to a frequency most divine.
to turn the other cheek,
but he also had a thing for whips.
All I know
is that these mixed messages
are awfully kinky,
and so I’m not quite sure
whether we should hit the sack
or start slashing
every banker’s bag of silver.
Scott Thomas Outlar lives and writes in the suburbs outside of Atlanta, Georgia. His work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. He guest-edited the Hope Anthology of Poetry from CultureCult Press as well as the 2019, 2020, and 2021 Western Voices editions of Setu Mag. He has been a weekly contributor at Dissident Voice for the past seven years. Selections of his poetry have been translated into Afrikaans, Albanian, Azerbaijani, Bengali, Dutch, French, Italian, Kurdish, Malayalam, Persian, Serbian, and Spanish. He spent the past two years working on a collaborative book, Evermore, along with coauthor Mihaela Melnic (their poetry/fiction hybrid collection was released in September 2021 as the flagship title of 17Numa Press). His podcast, Songs of Selah, airs weekly on 17Numa Radio and features interviews with poets, artists, musicians, and health advocates. More about Outlar's work can be found at 17Numa.com.
The legacy of Scott's word weaving will linger for eons...ReplyDelete