Scott Thomas
Outlar)
Transcending
Definitions
Art
is not an institution…
it
is an inner fire
born
out of those
whose
eyes pierce deeply
into
hidden burning beauty.
Art
is not a class taught by Academia…
it
is a holy vibration
pulsing
through the veins
of
those who sense the truth
of
this world’s perfect purity.
Art
is not a transaction…
it
is a soulful expression
that
has no choice
but
to be released
as
a reflection of the Source.
Art
is not a sales pitch…
it
is an intense emotion
coupled
with a vision
of
crystalline transcendence
that
ruptures open new dimensions.
Art
is not yet ready for the grave…
it
is a raging protest
against
the mortal flesh
that
sings the sweetest melody
about
overcoming life’s suffering.
Closer
to the Core
There
is truth
in
the steep hill
waiting
on the other side of the bridge
There
is truth
in
the long walk
that
carries flesh and bones to the top of the path
There
is truth
in
the cracked nuts
left
by a squirrel on the picnic table in the woods
There
is truth
in
the lost days
left
behind in memories that sometimes surface
There
is truth
in
the open heart
that
warmly welcomes the future to come calling
There
is truth
in
the courage
that
stands back tall every time it falls and crumbles
There
is truth
in
her sweet voice
that
promises with gentle whispers that life is evolution
There
is truth
in
the gene swarm
that
survived a billion years to reach this very moment
There
is truth
in
the fire
that
burns all corrupt systems down to primordial ash
There
is truth
in
the dust
of
this fresh grave upon which we dance
There
is truth
in
the magic
of
miracles that explode when lust and love become as one
There
is truth
in
the sex
that
shakes the foundations of this earth
There
is truth
in
the dreams
that
emerge in sleep when the mind is sober
There
is truth
in
the sky
that
is clear blue and flashing light from heaven
There
is truth
in
the siren
that
sings a song to wash away all stains of sin
There
is truth
in
the bed
born
anew each morning when we rise together
There
is truth
in
the touch
of
fingertips that seduce sparks of electric ignition
Safe
Harbor
Your
love is like a lighthouse
when
my ship is lost at sea,
offering
a beacon of safe passage
so
that the vessel can avoid a crash
and
maneuver away
from
the perilous fate of rocks
by
sailing toward the bright shine
that
is calling from the harbor at shore.
Your
love is like the alignment of synchronicity
when
the universe
winks
at itself in the mirror
to
reflect the perfect attunement
of
micro and macro
connections
of coincidental causality.
Your
love is like the morning dew
sent
down from heaven
in
the form of manna
to
feed the earth
as
a new dawn rises.
While
the birds wake up
and
sing their happy song of salvation,
the
sun bursts over the horizon
with
its first rays of the day,
casting
fresh miracles
into
each hour
with
an intensity of warmth
that
will never burn out,
never
cease to comfort the world,
and
never be quenched
in
the hearts of those
who
have been blessed by your grace.
Searching
the Stars
I
woke up this morning
with
a righteous urge
burning
in the front of my brain
that
was born from dreams during the night.
I
felt compelled to create a new word
greater
than love
that
could correctly express my emotions toward you.
This
language is a millstone
tied
around my tongue
that
won’t allow
the
full intensity of truth to be known.
I
poured through every page
in
the dictionary,
yet
all I discovered were synonyms
to
say the same thing in a slightly different way.
I
need something more pure!
I
went to the yard
and
dug my hands into the soil,
ripping
a hole down through the dirt
to
the pit of earth’s magma core.
But
even this
volcanic
fire of fury
did
not flare with enough passion.
I
need something that can never be extinguished!
I
bought a ticket, hopped aboard a plane,
and
soared to the sky
in
search of a hint laced in the clouds.
But
even this rarified air
at
the heights of the planet’s atmosphere
could
not breathe an answer into my lungs.
I
need to escape this gravity!
I
strapped on a suit,
bribed
the guards at the station’s gates,
and
entered a shuttle destined for space
with
the hope that some rare star
might
sing a holy verse
into
my heart.
But
even this light
brightly
shining
since
the very beginning
at
the Big Bang of creation
could
not manage to muster an explanation
to
soothe the growing suffering
caused
from my fruitless mission.
Woe
be this tragedy!
I
need something greater than God!
In
my dismay, I returned to the world below,
crawled
back into bed, and closed my eyes
that
I might weep myself to sleep once more.
In
the silence born
from
this darkest space,
a
revelation flashed
through
the raw synapses of my mind.
In
this state
of
my damnedest sorrow,
an
epiphany erupted
in
the image of your perfect visage.
The
realization struck at my center
with
the force of transcendent peace,
explaining
to me
that
words no longer matter
now
that you are in my life;
and
so, simple thoughts of love
will
always be enough
to
satiate my soul
as
long as you remain by my side.
Green
Eyes
She
has gorgeous green eyes
that
shine
She
is a Goddess of Light
and
I will love her
for
all of my life
…beyond
unto eternity…
Her
mind is wise
with
deep intelligence
with
calmness
with
correctness
with
concentration on evolution
Her
heart is kind
and
good
and
generous
and
comforting
and
nurturing
and
warm with the warmth of the warmest sun
Her
soul is eternal
with
faith
with
fate
with
consciousness connected
to
the Source of God
Her
body is electric
salvation
Her
smile is holy
transcendence
Her
flesh is perfect
beauty
Her
gorgeous green eyes
are
the gateway to heaven
(© Scott Thomas Outlar)
Scott
Thomas Outlar hosts the site 17Numa.wordpress.com where
links to his published poetry, fiction, essays, interviews, and books can be
found. His latest collections are: Happy Hour Hallelujah (CTU
Publishing, 2016) and Chaos Songs (Weasel Press, 2016).
