The Bearded Woman by Scott Thomas Outlar

I saw the bearded woman
in a documentary
about an angry poet.
I was eating salmon sushi.
I nearly gagged,
sickened at the sight of this old hag
with white hairs
hanging nastily
from her chinny chin chin.
The irony was
that the poet which the film documented
was a belligerent sot,
and the old, ugly hag
was the mother of his child,
and I was writing coarse poetry
all the while as I watched,
mimicking the coarse emotions
in my own splintered way.
Then came the horrific vision
of the bearded woman.
Then came an appetite
being harshly suppressed,
though the bottle of white wine helped
immensely to immediately rile it back up.
Then came the pen
being put to paper
one more time
to catalogue
that vile, disgusting, wretched,
bearded woman.

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

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