Casting Cards

I wouldn’t dare
call myself a poet
or an artist/or a warrior
or a fighter/or a servant/or a stoic
or a fool

I’m just a hermit and a vagabond
going within so I can wander

but these trees work well as bones
sturdy long enough to carry the hour

and all this dirt will eventually receive
the same returns of what once was offered

profit every whisper of groaning breath
pilfer specks of sand from six scratched eyes
protect the black of my lungs/
tongue with glazed amber

Harvest the autumn
red leaves sign caution
blood in the engine
ghosts crawling through dry veins

Spells cast the season
cold snap of reason
heavy pulse turn plasma
gears shifting beneath the plates

Scott Thomas Outlar is a lover of truth and enjoys researching philosophy, psychology, politics, spirituality, and any other facet of consciousness in the pursuit of reaching a higher state of vibration. He also enjoys writing rants, poems, essays, short stories, and prose-fusion screeds covering such subjects. Scott Thomas can be reached at You can also watch and/or subscribe to his YouTube Channel Read other articles by Scott Thomas, or visit Scott Thomas's website.