Predator by Scott Thomas Outlar

Remorse and regret
are for those
who have
lost their killer edge;
those who let pity
fill their souls;
those who weep
for others
who have fucked up.
Evolution
does not care,
and is not concerned
about the weak.
Evolution
laughs in the face
of the failures
and the freaks
and the fuck ups
and the fools.
Evolution
is a safe house
with a strong roof
and central heating.
Evolution
is a locked door
that keeps
the less resourceful
at bay.
Evolution
is the ship
that crosses the sea –
not the fear
that holds back
those too scared
to even attempt the journey.
Evolution is
four fingers and a thumb,
and two legs
that stand tall,
and consciousness
that fires
with crisp
synapses fury.
Evolution
is the King Ape
that towers
above the masses.
Evolution
is a gold mine
that buys
whatever is wanted –
not a pile
of dead ash
from the remains
of a past
that’s been torched
and left behind.
Evolution
is the future.
Evolution
is the fangs
of a creature
that has the guts
to bite
and lace its venom
into the blood
of its prey.
Evolution
is two wings
of the Eagle
that soars
through the sky
with a snake
dangling from its mouth.

Scott Thomas Outlar

Scott Thomas Outlar survived both the fire and the flood – now he dances in celebration while waiting on the next round of chaos to commence. Otherwise, he keeps things fairly chill, spending the days flowing and fluxing with the tide of the Tao River, laughing at life’s existential problems, and writing prose-fusion poetry dedicated to the Phoenix Generation. His work has appeared recently in venues such as Section 8 Magazine, Dead Snakes, The Chaffey Review, Corner Club Press, Black Mirror Magazine, Dissident Voice, and The Kitchen Poet. Scott’s first attempt at a blog is 17Numa.wordpress.com.

 

 

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