Neo Classic

[Neonurotic]

Mourning Night

So that I didn't know it was day,
you hid the robins of the early morning
because the night slipped away
like silk on your skin and satin on the bed.

When the stars fade, we both know
it's time for me to go.

Baby, you can't eclipse the sun, it too big
and what's between us is too.
So wide, the distance makes me feel
lonely lying next to you.

You got to know by now, I want
more then sighs in the dark.
We should live the love all day, if not
that then may our dusk never fall again.

 

[Neonurotic]

Covet the Night

Sundown made the sky bleed
onto the sand stone. We drank Chianti
from each others mouths, igniting
redder and hotter than Moab at night.
Though this very morning ash smolders,
with it's wispy smoke lingering
like lust and I still say you led me on.

 

[Neonurotic]

Caduceus in a Box

Years of studying anatomy,
physiology and pharmacology,
all to earn a pin which old fingers
trembled, failed to attach to a lapel.
But it mattered not; she saw
a dream realized.

Then like all good nights, they end.
The sun comes up and we wake.

Years of pain, grief and more tears than
I could count; it was her hand in mine
as a heart stopped, I gave in
and it mattered. The pin sits in a box
with ashes where I found
the dream was hers not mine.

 

[Neonurotic]

Drink, Drank, Drunk

The last rays of the sun catches
water from the sprinkler
and they are diamond drops
flung onto my flip-flopped toes.

Ice cold, hard lemonade cools
the inside, fuzzes the brain
with a lot of lemon,
more sugar with too much vodka.
And none of that alcohol pop,
bastard Zima shite, I made this.

Hmmm, buzzz...
way too much vodka and it's all good.
Sitting here in this lawn chair
I can see the grass gets greener
on my side of the fence and that's all right.

 

[Neonurotic]

Time bleeds

Cracking an hour glass to swallow
one grain, one second after another
takes patience. If you don't have it,
don't bother because time doesn't stop,
not for you and certainly not for me.

It goes in as sand and comes out as
glass.

Think about that.
Or don't. It doesn't matter,
out of time, just...

. . . . Time Bleeds out.

 

[Neonurotic]

Dandelion's Dance

They're all arms and legs across
the stage. I'm amazed with the beauty
of something I've never watched
or ever cared for, but now I see them.
They're on pointe, white skirts whirling,
graceful as dandelion seeds
dancing on a breeze. As my flower floats
by, I make a wish she is this happy
always then root it all in memories.

 

[Neonurotic]

Rant

Little pesties find every
leave behind,
cracker, cookie or cat treat.

It doesn't matter,
they find it and carry it off
with a scent trail
for their brothers
to follow
and they
follow
all inline
back
and
forth
working
for
their queen.

I'd kill the queen if I could,
get right in that nest and rip off her head,
her little leggies too.

But I read, there is more than one queen
with a thousand workers for every one.
All are
foraging
working
carrying
right this
minute
and all I can do is hope the baits do what
they're designed to do: kill queen, kill the colony.

 

[Neonurotic]

Honey-do Ever After

This old house
I don't know. There is so much
painting, fixing, replacing
and worst of all, redoing the kitchen.

I wonder if it's worth the effort,
surely not worth the money
but it's the only place
that's ever felt like home
when stepping through the door.

Give it one year and one year only,
be damned the relatives,
and friends who want me to stay.
As they say, fences make
great neighbors and shutters
shut out the world;

I have only to build both.

 

[Neonurotic]

Thirty-Sex

She wears Chapstick,
sunscreen and runs a brush
through her hair then she is done.

I'm in the bathroom longer
getting ready to go out
(that's all in the shower).

But she took days to plan
for my birthday. It was the best
grilled steak and blow job,
not necessarily in that order.

 

[Neonurotic]

Dream Scratcher

Twitch of paws, twitch of whiskers,
chirping, chatter in a imaginary chase
while lying on sofa for an all day nap.
She runs in dreams and it's the closest
that fat cat has ever moved her ass.

 

[Neonurotic]

Little Porky Tartare

The story did not end with a huff and a puff,
our dear author left out their little pig-sister
who went to visit her big pig brothers
in their new windproof red brick house.

Near out of steam, I caught a piggy
girl by her plump and scrumptious ankle
Tickled that fanny with a spankity-spank
until her curly-q tail unfurled with delight.
She squealed and squealed for more,
so loud the three little pigs came
to her rescue, but were much too late to win.
I already ate her inside and out, left her
as I huffed and puffed a cigarette back to my den.

 

[Neonurotic]

A Flocking with a Side of Cat Pancakes

The Weatherguesser said ten to twenty―in anticipation, I bulldozed as it fell. No raincoat to keep dry just a black trash bag with head and arm holes. Dear daughter thinks this hilarious, laughing then falling from inside the bay window, squashing the cat pile. I weathered in boots and a pair of crappy gloves―twice. Next day, it's as if I never touched the shovel. Again, outdoors clearing a path until snow on the pine flocks me. And again, she falls, making cat pancakes. By now I think they'd move, but not. Wherever the sun, there is a cat.

 

[Neonurotic]

Lies

And I tasted them, they were ashes
burning. As I fed, I couldn't swallow
them with a scorched throat or spit
them out with blistered lips. I ate
every one, sealing the open to the close.

They are a part of a whole,
absorbing them makes me the liar.

 

[Neonurotic]

Love Sick

Droplets in aerosols of couple speak,
public display of our affection
injects a virus of adore. I sweat
the fever while my immunity
surrenders, easily, most willingly.

Better than something common
one night or a seasonal fling,
simply avoided with missed calls
and voice mail. It is a commitment,
a mutant really, there is no real protection.

She is the pathogen that sickens
me with her kiss and touch
she overwhelms me, binding so intimately.
The diagnosis last longer than lust,
it's love and time makes it stronger.

 

[Neonurotic]

Dark Water, Weeds and Who the Hell Knows What Else

The lake is still cool this time of year,
though the path to the water
is baked, brown and thirsty.

We still go swimming, slathered
with the smell of sunblock, bug repellant.
We wear black inner tubes
around our middles and carry the six packs
(instead of wearing them like we once did).

At the dock, I jump in feet first,
the shock of cold ends a "Whoop!"
and gradual pleasure. The other two,
Tony and Harle are not as brave
(or stupid as they say), inch into a green lake,
stirring mud, with muck clouds following.

I'm already floating with ass in the middle
of the tube (and frosty can cracked open);
laughing. Their "whoops!" are followed by "Jeezus"
though they finally make it out to me.

Time turns back and we are nine,
dog paddling to the drop off,
where we could never find the bottom
(Harle's always been a little afraid
but we pretend it's just dark water and weeds)

Tony's lost his beer, so I share mine
and we each earn a pleasant buzz
with fish, splashing, drunk on Tony's beer.
(Or so we think, we don't really know)
alcohol on sun on top of bullshit intensifies
the stupid talk, jesting insults fly.

Hours later, we wake, freezing, sunburned
and pruned with hangovers and
mosquito bites giving us hell.
We return, nine times three years (give or take),
to our jobs, wives and bills. The past lies
waiting in the depths of a lake and three little boy's
imagination of who the hell knows what else.

 

[Neonurotic]

Mouth - a fibonacci poem

I
did
not know
something so
all consuming as
an oral fetish, not until
I met a mouth; her beautiful pink, so suckable.
She's a wet perfection, fuckable: her lip's devotion, my whole demise on her tongue.

 

[Neonurotic]

Red

It is the plump plum tomatoes
heavy on the vine
finally ripe for the picking
that had whet her appetite.
I dream of brushetta,
Simi Valley wine and her red lips,
aged years, turned bitter, like us.

 

[Neonurotic]

A Moon Low - a fibonacci poem

Black
clouds
glide across
a full moon.
These wispy veils leave trailing
messages. Lovers see vast, dazzling shine on romance
while loners see phantoms passing. They tell everyone they are better this way,
but at night it is all a lie. It's a cold comfort they suffer, as they too long for the moon.

 

[Neonurotic]

Soap

Oil and water do mix with the help
of lye. It's a chemical reaction of heat,
stirring, stirring to a trailing tail.

Now add the complexity
that could result a mess, a separation.
Although, through patience
and understanding the reaction
comes something lovely to hold.

Chromium green, vetiver with sage,
is a favorite, blending well
with another's lavender spike.
Together melding an earthy essential,
a lively green and purple swirl,
unique, but memorable.

This renders a caustic in water
and oil into a sweeter emulsion
that remains on the skin,
a scenting imprint, everlasting.

 

[Neonurotic]

Regrettably, Unrecoverable

Nothing is ever really lost if it's been saved
in memory, bytes, dreams and it has.
Search, you will not find a ghost writer.
Find these words that say I still breathe
and still have poems in my heart.

But there too, you will find I am not
the same person I was before.
Age is not just a number, it comes with
maturity through time, joy and pain
writes and defines a new man.

Am I faster, better and happier
with this new version? I'd like to say yes
but it's a yes and no as there is misery
yet there is still passion, between
is love, regrettably, unrecoverable.

 

[Neonurotic]

Shell Out

I''ve been like this forever,
I don't ever remember being
it this cloudless or the drought's
lasting so perpetual.

Months and months of tumbling on,
I feel dry enough that dust cakes
on the toes. A glance says
it's a tan, but no, it's just dirt.

Water, water, nowhere, only sand,
the wind rolling dead sagebrush along.
I'm contained past overfill.
there is no shift through skin,
or reverse osmosis.

Today I scraped off a desert crust
and though, hallucinating,
one drop then again and again,
a deluge at last.

But it's a mirage, remember?
Remember? Or is it, really?

I petrify, ten feet from the surf.

 

[Neonurotic]

An Interlude

Not far down the beach, a breeze
carries sandalwood, coconuts
and lovers.

Mine, finds delight in play, feeding
pomegranate seeds
one by one with her teeth.
She is tart, with red lips curving
a wicked and wide smile.

Mischief dazzles her eyes and mine.

Suddenly knowing, a hitch of breath
and teeth clatter in a chatter
while wet sands shift, press the print
of my shoulder blades and heels
as hips hunch in escape of rolling waves.

"Let's go back to bed. Sand always
finds a way in the most vexing places."
like she does, under my skin.

 

[Neonurotic]

Kaze no Regret

A rose petal soft kiss, whispers along,
stirring; arousing a pull of breath.
I see ocean blue in the middle of my eye,
have coconut suntan oil imprints of her,
the tropics. We were happy then,
I was happy, but like a typhoon,
it all whirls away when we are young.

And careless are we,
we don't realize what it is really gone.

The strong timpani of last days,
my heart striking slow against her breast,
its a requiem of love. I've regret
on my lips day after day, alone,
remembering, I left, she stayed.

 

[Neonurotic]

Sweat

That one drop of lust could feed a famine
and I watch it, eyes slit, open-mouthed,
anticipating. The bead rolls down a
hard chest, a harder nipple where it's poised,
perpetually or so it seems.
The hang time is too tedious, starving
while waiting. I'm impatient.
One lick and it's a salty plenitude, albeit short-lived.

This dry spell really did last forever
and it's hot, I'll make him sweat a lot longer.

 

[Neonurotic]

Cat

She sleeps on her head,
an impossible position that looks
uncomfortable to me
but her lips are curved in an upside down
smile, which is really up for her.

Then what do I know?
She's a cat, all I'm here for is an occasional,
BLESSED, soft, head butt and a rub
of her snaggled tooth.
I'm the cat box litter maid
and, AND most importantly,
I'm the food guy. Those are my jobs.

This is fine. Really, she saved me
and not the other way around from the road.
If I am lucky, the princess pays
me with purrs and lap warm-ups.
I'm happy being her pet, at least I better be
or furballs in my shoes for a reward!