If the Beast pushes you into a corner, do you come out swinging with haymakers? Or sit down cross-legged and meditate? Both could, conceivably, be actions that lead to salvation depending on what type of mood one might be in on any given day. Do you fight fire with fire? Or apply jiujitsu techniques in a way that wears down the aggressor striking out against you? Sometimes it is best to step out of the way and allow that which is evil to self-destruct from within. Sometimes, however, it is best to rear back and punch a bully square in the nose.

How wrapped up are you in the causes of a lost Republic? Do you still believe in the ideas put forth in the Declaration of Independence and Constitution of the United States of America? Or are such revolutionary visions now laid to rest forever? Are we destined now to return to what has been the common state of societal rule throughout the history of humanity: Authoritarian Dictatorship? Probably. For awhile at least. Until the people have been dumped on long enough to get pissed off and fight back. As long as we are fattened up on bread and wine and have big screen televisions broadcasting soap operas, sporting events, and idol-worshipping nonsense to hypnotize us, chances are we will let the abusers go right along with their methods of tyranny. But once the power plug is pulled and the food trucks shut down delivery, things might get a little edgy in the living rooms across this country. From that point, the time remaining before the discontent spills out onto the streets is surely short.

Hysteria gets hyped up and pierces inside of ragged veins with hypodermic needle intensity correlating to the desired high of helium lift off. Up floats the kite until hitting the big black void of deep space. All lines cut adrift. All focus depleted and put into a trance. Hazed coordinates. Fog and smoke distorts the scene. Mirrors cast back naught but a karmic black eye. Blue orbs inside the electric light buzz with anticipation of that which must come next. Featureless wisps of absolute nothingness dance across the atmosphere as the vast array of entropy holds fast to its silence. A vibrating hum of illusion reciprocates at five degrees of fantasy to function with the full force of final preparations. The bigwig moneychangers laugh all the way to the bank as they madly rush to shut down the accounts. Paychecks deposited under the mattress. Gold nuggets laid low in a six-foot grave. Silver stars start singing amber tunes of golden currency as the raft sets sail from shore. A processing through the time stream. Bounty system adds up on deliverance. Cuts down to subtract. Multiplies to build back up. Divides, finally, to conquer.

Always one more extreme to push. To the limit. Over the edge. Off the reservation. Mutiny in its most sublime form. An anarchic gift from the Goddess. A neon war sign in the sky. Look up and see chemical trails laced between clouds. Agent Orange on a bad day throwing a fit and raining down upon the unsuspecting populace. Until they wake up, that is, and come to fully realize the awesome righteousness of noncompliance. Until they straighten their spines and fill up on the sweet nectar of spiritual empowerment. Until they cry out with wild abandon, informing the enemy in no uncertain terms that not one more move in the current direction of decadence and desolation shall be made. Tables get turned. Lines in the sand get drawn. The rebellion marches along in full swing. One foot right after the other. Left, right, left. Lockstep to the beat of a new paradigm as the shifting cycles of history spin around to taste the glorious consequences wrought when David stands up to Goliath and fires the rock. Glass houses shatter. Ivory towers collapse. The best is yet to come. Overthrown empires are dumped down and laid to waste. Walked tall until it fell hard. Spoke loud when it had kings and queens hidden up its sleeve but then shut up quickly and fell silent when the Phoenix Generation showed that we had five natural aces up ours.

Ash to ash and dust to dust. The drama plays out over and over. Eternal recurrence of the spinning cycles. Circles within circles. Movement to and fro. Past and future entwined in the present moment. All events become fixed at one point. The screen fades to black. The curtains come down. Then, just when it all seemed to be over and the ending was closing in, a fresh beginning erupts from out the constant continuation of life’s perpetual motion and evolution pulses forward toward the New Age. Version 2.0. Coming soon to a mind near you.






Visions of Verse 5-19-16

Scott Thomas Outlar spends the hours flowing and fluxing with the ever-changing currents of the Tao River while laughing at and/or weeping over life’s existential nature. He hosts the site 17Numa.wordpress.com where links to his published poetry, fiction, essays, and interviews can be found. His chapbook “Songs of a Dissident” was released in 2015 through Transcendent Zero Press and is available on Amazon. His poetry collections “Happy Hour Hallelujah” (CTU Publishing) and “Chaos Songs” (Weasel Press) are both forthcoming in 2016.