Neo Classic

[Neonurotic]

Pretty Liar

A smooth black lake lies
peaceful, though the sun glares
with its thousand diamonds
fracturing glass until she is blind
or so that's the reason she gives
for the stream of tears.

I know that it's regret.

 

[Neonurotic]

Every Day, Fine and Clear

Waiting for daylight, here in this hotel
I'm sure isn't far from where you live.
Sometimes, I still think of you and mourn
the first months of friendship, telling
you everything and nothing at all.

It seemed the fog was necessary as
a reach out and fingers slice, grabbed
the mist. Though still there, you felt it,
the essence, it clung; that was me.

The sun rises and there is no
longer a mirage. I am who I am
and nearer than you think, in red earth,
mountains; your world.

It's hot here, the haze always burns
and we find that every day is fine and clear.

 

[Neonurotic]

Fress

Of the seventy-two named angels
she is not among them.
She is not my guardian,
though, I remember her telling me
that she'd never be, it wasn't her belief.

After death there was something better
than human, better than angels
but I can't help wondering, so exalted,
does she see, does she remember me?

After death there is something better,
there's no guilt or grief,
all that remains is to me and still I don't
know what to do with either, so I eat them.

 

[Neonurotic]

A Scene at a Bar on Monday Night

Thirty-four and too
old to be their cougar bait.
What now, eh? Grandmas?


----------


A Scene From Her Rear-view Mirror

Why bother with it?
I eat lipstick faster than
you can put it on.


----------


A Scene in a Shower

Oh, there? No, pluck thy
offender! Any more, it's a
dye job downunder.


----------


A Scene at Walmart

Poppin' fresh over/
under short shorts. What's sweeter,
muffins or biscuits?


----------


A Scene at the Perfume Counter While Trying to Get a Phone Number

Patchouli headache
but I won't leave because she will,
causing a blue-ball pain hell.

 

[todski28]

damn neo there is some amazing work here!

 

[butters]

i agree, tods - wonderful reading

 

[Neonurotic]

Thank you tod and thank you butters.

I hadn't realized how much I've written here. I like see the progression, but I mixed them in this thread.

 

[Neonurotic]

Following poems are from the new 30 Poems in 30 Days (Redux) thread.:



Too Close

It feels like I am just too close to love you,
So I'll be on my way.

. . .―Too Close by Alex Clare​

It feels like I am just too close to love you.
Loving you is too hard to breathe.

Right here, underwater with you
is not my world.
This is a Pisces' ocean
I don't belong; an air sign needs air.

Baby, sorry
you can't give anything I need,
just bubbles in my heart.
The pressure is much too much,
more than I can take.
The ache and burn say to decompress
before it's too late
but maybe it already is.
Maybe, I am already dead

Mayday, mayday
there's nothing left so I'll be on my way.

 

[Neonurotic]

The Ultimate Shoulda Woulda Coulda

Last time he seen a doctor was too long ago
thirty some odd years. The first years
were too broke and then there was
a new revolutionary business
a new fangled flim-flam invention
so he was too busy. More time flew
and he just plain forgot.

Fast forward twenty-nine years,
eleven months and two weeks ago
(he doesn't count the days, what difference would it have made?)

He can't eat and can't swallow.
It's fear now the reason he doesn't go.
He's starving but wouldn't go
because he's afraid of what it could be

The wife watches him wither,
gripes and moans, "Will you go now?"
Finally yes, it's hard to breath not to,
be damned if he does, double damned if he doesn't.

It wasn't fear he finds, but a premonition,
stage 3 cancer, fight-able
some hope
maybe

then two weeks later he coughed so hard he broke a rib.
It's in his bones, his spine gone stage 4.
no hope.
no maybe.

 

[Neonurotic]

The Motives Remain Murky

"The Arapahoe High School senior who shot a fellow student Friday in the
school's hallways before killing himself was no longer an active participant
on the debate team—possibly among the motives behind the attack."

by The Denver Post​

​

Reading this morning's headline
says the motive remains murky
and ends with: his intent was evil.
I think really? Really?
REALLY?

Did this kid really bring his weapon,
stockpiled ammo and Molotov cocktails
for show-and-tell?
Shot a girl in the head?
All because he got kicked off the debate team
and didn't get his way?

What the fuck, Chuck? This happens
too much. What happened telling a friend
if you're fucked up? Did cellphones
kill suicide hotlines? What about popping
anti-depressants and seeing psychs?

What happened to the time
when a kid was pissed off at the world,
hurt or bummed, would end their life
and their life alone?
Teen suicide go out of fashion?
If it did, bring it back.

Back in high school I remember
Stewart, a tall, quiet pothead
made huffing glam for his fellow potheads.
He sniffed that Super Glue
until he became unglued, lost more brain cells
than anyone could ever count.
Senior year, day after Christmas
he curled his big toe around a trigger
of his rifle. My yearbook that year had
two-page dedication for the loss of Stew.

Mary did it too, gave her bullies
something to chew on as she swung
by her neck from the biggest cedar in town.

And confession, I have a silver scar
under my eye from a twenty-two,
bullet through the cheek and grazing,
an attempt, last minute change of mind
before I lost my mind. Point is,
I did it to myself and didn't bring it
to school taking others with me.

The saying goes: Teen suicide, don't do it
but the thing is, they are still doing it,
doing it in all new evil, egotistical, self-centered way
and why? Why? WHY?

Lack of good parenting skills? Schools not involved?
Bullying? Big Pharma fails us again?
I don't know. The motives remain murky.

 

[Neonurotic]

Beer Over Reality

Cody Brown gets to keep his Sister Wives
because polygamy is legal,
Utah A-OK's plural marriages
(sans license, go figure, that's still illegal.)

Some men would envy Mr Brown
with his perks of a different woman
every night, whenever he wants
never leaving bed, no scorn, no wrath
live the Fundamentalist way
(aka sucking the life of the state's teet).


But me, I think past the cock;
that's four times the headache
and seventeen more heartaches.
No money, no money (unless reality TV,
thanks TLC). No thanks, I'd rather
an ice cold case of Polygamy beer.
That hangover is more of a pain I can afford.

 

[Neonurotic]

I Adore

I see Grace, Marlene and Marilyn
good company
chique for Charlize.

Blondey in gold, quite literally, wearing
a fortune. 24 carat, dripping
honey diamonds, bedazzle
for ears, neck and fingers,
walks the catwalk in haute couture.

With the the lights on her, all others
are shadows, eclipsed
by her visage. I'm left in her wake
and thank La maison Dior
for bringing out the stars.

 

[Neonurotic]

A Gift Tower Falls

The gift basket was ordered, arriving
a few days before Christmas,
all before we knew. Please, please
forgive the appropriateness,
the wines, cookies and candies.

If I had known, I'd agonized
what exactly do I give to someone
who has stage 4 cancer?

I'm sorry.
So far it's been silence
ignoring, and guilt then more guilt
at a loss of what to say,
to do, to comfort, to help.

I do however, know for whatever,
whenever you need, in that instance,
I'm there, I'm right there with you,
just ask and it's yours.

 

[Neonurotic]

A Silhouette Affair

You're only here for a moment,
love me in the shadows and gone
before the sun reaches the windows.
It's an exquisite arrangement,
pleasing only when we want.

But, I wonder
what you do while you're away.
Maybe you're married
and when he's away that's when
we have our cameo sex,
scenes in places I've never been.

Neither of us want to take it home.
It's round beds with Magic Fingers,
heart-shaped bubble bath
for two. Sometimes we go all out
with the cheese, get Strawberry Hill
and chocolate covered cherries.
It's dirty x-rated and fun, you say it is too.

But , I wonder
if your life without me is full of family
good times, kids and a husband.
If it is, I think this silhouette affair
needs the shades pulled,
spotlight out then fade to black.

 

[Neonurotic]

What The Birds Say:
Peace​

 

[Neonurotic]

from my alt, Jamison's thread, Summertime Hot & Sexy Challenge:




Norwester

A muggy blanket lifted
as the wind drove a flutter;
the skirt rode her knee
while I went headlong for her sigh.

 

[Neonurotic]

No Pale Wail

I think that's why they call it
a crush. It's because it does just that.
It crushes ever-loving thing
making an extract of you.

A triple strength, honey thick,
bones and all.
And all,
your core.
That's what I want to do,

pour a doppelbock and more,
you in a frosty mug.
Suck it in, a hybrid stout
that'll knock me down and fuck
me with one mother of a hangover.

 

[Neonurotic]

Virulent

This night's flush begins
with the love you's and want me's.
Kisses coax the host,
while jeans, t-shirts
cast aside, careless, like wrappers,
relaxing the barriers.

Foreplay, gentle, turns
into cunt and my whore
replacing my darling, lovemaking;
baby, we fuck delirious.

Droplets in aerosols of dirty talk
injects a virus,
and sweats the fever
Immunity surrenders,
easily.

Worse than something common
and seasonal, simply avoided
is a new mutant, there is
no real protection, really.

I am the pathogen that penetrates
through with every 'fuck you',
I do fuck you to fuck me;
overwhelming, binding most intimately,
results unknown

 

[Neonurotic]

Daylight Envy

The warmest light is two hours
before sunset with gold
licking the underside of leaves
and shadows falling east.

My Nikon captures curves,
and hollows; features soft
and out of focus but I know
who lies in the shade.

Obscured from the flash
is the barest, most pale beauty
I've ever seen or ever loved,
worshiped with shutter-clicks.

Every day the Sun sets and covets.

 

[Neonurotic]

Jägermeister

This stuff is what poison is made of
I've been told it tastes like black licorice,
but it's more like green NyQuil,
it doesn't put me to sleep, though I have
walking nightmares puking in the streets
of Tijuana. The fumes are an instant drunk
that doesn't quell munchies for
roast pork sold on the corner, flesh stripped
right off the bone for fools who eat it
and throw it up before they get Montezuma's
Revenge. Jägermeister, oh what fun it is until half
a bottle is gone; it's a hangover that lasts forever.

 

[Neonurotic]

Snowalt

The effect off the Great Salt Lake
is a "conundrum," a word an 8 year old
uses, knowing its definition.
Confusion crosses her blond brow
as she sticks her tongue out at me,
catching snowflakes.

I have know idea, what the plows
use to clear salty snow. So I laugh,
make ice balls (because salt does
weird things to snow), pelt her
with them. After all, already she's at
that age where adults are dumb;
I'll have to wait until she is one too
before I'm smart again.

Twelve years later she'll realize
there are no easy answers,
life's a riddle, wrapped in a mystery,
inside an enigma and it takes ¹
a lifetime to figure it all out.


¹ Winston Churchill

 

[Neonurotic]

Halfway

There is a tall house at mid of
two towns I grew up. When Mom
said the "Halfway House" as we passed
it. I always imagined it full
of drugs and whores. Ya.
I really thought of them whores
through tweens and teens;
the sheets were changed a lot.

I never touched drugs in those days,
scared shitless what Mom
would do if I did and got caught,
surely be sent to that house,
not the halfway one, but
the other one where
fiddle-dee me happened
and night terrors begun.

No the drugs were after,
but anti-depressants and anti-anxieties.
That Valium was a devil, they never
told me it's addictive, never saying
the DT's were worse than heroin,
or about the flashbacks years later
again with DT's again. They don't say.

Sometimes, even though I'm not,
I still feel like I'm stuck at the Halfway
with all the druggies and whores,
watching the cars pass by
refuting deliriums, insisting halfway,
is the middle and there's miles left to go.

 

[Neonurotic]

Revelation

Laid out, naked and vulnerable
we fear the unveil of everything ugly
We find there is beauty,
a tangible love. It's intensity
makes us tremble, pull back
but we are left with want for more

The more dear, don't you see,
between fear and love is passion,
for which we are nearly there. Nearly.

 

[Neonurotic]

Atop a Cedar

The limbs reach for the sky only
to touch a cold sun. Even that
is enough warmth for a spider
to feel, to venture, to feed
hungry Black-capped Chickadees.

 

[Neonurotic]

We hold onto Christmas

Quick-quick, slow
quick-quick, slow
the music box plays.

Small sock feet on my feet,
we whirl on an old wooden floor,
avoiding hazards: cat tails and toys

Pine needles fall off the
tree, some turn brown,
but I ignore trash day.

It can keep another week
It can keep another week
She loves the lights
and I, the smell of evergreens.