Driving Till Dawn [poem by Scott Thomas Outlar]

Driven to the heart
of the matter –
then deeper
in white hot pulsations
of paradise
spiked with poison
that have me seeing stars.
A symphony rings
between my ears
with each thrust
as the climax nears –
it is an Apocalypse
as truth rises to a peak,
spins around the tip
of a needlepoint precision,
then crashes like an Angel
back to Earth –
blacked out, dizzy, soaked
in the sweat
of these silk sheets
that no longer cover
our wicked, wild inhibitions –
let loose to roam
in the midnight hours
when our primal passions
bear their urgent fangs –
get in, drive in, get there,
get that, take that, want that,
need that, feel that, push back,
suck that, slap that, eat that,
taste that, scream out…
lie back, calm down, smoke that, and wait
for the sun to rise…


Scott Thomas Outlar burst forth from the womb with thoughts of Renaissance, Revolution and Revelation crashing around the newly enlivened neuron synapses of his consciousness. He survived both the primordial fire and the cataclysmic flood – now he dances in celebration while awaiting the next round of chaos to commence. Otherwise, he lives a relatively simple life, spending his time flowing and fluxing with the River Tao, laughing at life’s existential nature, and writing prose-fusion poetry dedicated to the Phoenix Generation. His work has appeared recently in venues such as Dissident Voice, Dead Snakes, Underground Books, Black Mirror Magazine, Napalm and Novocain, Visceral Uterus, and Record. Scott can be reached at 17Numa@gmail.com

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