Scott Thomas Outlar hosts the site where links to his published poetry, fiction, essays, interviews, reviews, and books can be found. His work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Scott serves as an editor for The Peregrine Muse and Novelmasters. He has been a weekly contributor at the Dissident Voice Sunday Poetry Page for the past three years.

If Ever There Were an Idol

Morphine drips
as a deep breath from God
to numb away your suffering
though sorrow remains

Tip of the tongue
spread from the lungs
laced through the blood
heavy on the liver
where black cells

Deep in the mind
memories arise
of unconditional love
and forever

Everything good
I’ve learned in this life
came by observing your actions
from the very beginning

Modeling my steps
on those you took
though mine still fall short
at times

Key words
like honor
and karma
were branded
upon my consciousness
from the lessons taught
by your wise
and gentle nature

Seeking the same
in Taoist texts
Biblical scriptures
and spiritual mantras
brings a bright light
but it still pales
in comparison
to the one that shined
from your pure spirit

My Father
who art now in heaven
hallowed by thy name
in my heart
here on earth

Open and Empty

If there exists such a state
as perfect peace
it must be
this quiet calm
that causes a soul
to surrender its pride

I have nothing to hide
just serene eyes
staring down an ego
upon its own altar
of annihilation

Let my sins sing themselves
into an open grave
left waiting
for far too long
to bury the burdens
that never truly
served a purpose

I have no alms to give
just outstretched arms
and steady palms
that promise
to hold you
with more care
than I could ever deliver
in the past

I need more trust
than little white lies
or laughs of lust
can bring to life
but even the light
of love’s fruition
is not enough for a seed
that has found comfort
resting empty in the soil

I have no war to wage
just this simple smile
from a happy heart
that knows the start
of something beautiful
is always
but one beat away…

Spirit of Release

Calm … quiet … serene
is the scene

Lush … green … gentle
in the woods

One brown leaf
finally falls
under the swelter of summer
after having held on
a bit too long
through autumn and winter

Sometimes it’s best
in life
to relinquish your grip
when the pressure
of the past
becomes overwhelming

Sometimes the rope
slices hands
if you don’t let go
when the ghost
on the other side
has already vanished

Soft … silent … resting
is the heart

Open … ready … smiling
for new seasons