I am no longer posting poetry on Neurotica and Nonsense. Please visit my Adventures In Drinking blog on Blogger or my SaadiaOnline blog on Xanga.

Thank you!



he craves
what I give
and gave
enabling his addiction
I deprave
waiting for a
watching for his
his hands liberate
my inner slave
he breathes
be brave
as we start
to misbehave
I may allow--
but he saves


Dropped Stitch Scarf

knit one purl on
ea scarf for a lover
kept quiet undercover
stitches come undone

around his neck
my alpaca leash
out of reach
yet call and beck

handcrafted protection
my work keeps him warm
inside our perfect storm
this chilly defection

*Notice the rhyme scheme in this poem (abba, cddc, etc). This is an example of envelope rhyme. I am currently knitting a 'dropped stitch scarf.' For all you knitters, click here for directions on how to make your own.



his name feels
fresh on my tongue
my delusion, but real
ancient but young

left and right
loose and tight
black and white
day and night

darling, he sighs
an answered why
his truthful lie
certain and shy

the torrid balance
of well planned chance
this one-word sentence
his heavy glance

owning legions of lovers
between east and west
conceal and discover
my worst, his best


Obsidian, Version 1 and 3

About a week ago, I started writing an acrostic while I was grocery shopping using the words 'fight or flight.' I scribbled a bunch of lines on the back of my list and told myself that I would post the poem soon. When the time came to post, I couldn't find the yellow index card I had written the poem on. I looked everywhere! I finally decided that I must have inadvertently thrown the grocery list with the poem on the back away. I sat down to write another acrostic and when I clicked the 'save changes' button (on Xanga), I was informed that the site was down for maintenance. I clicked the back button on my browser repeatedly, but I could not recover my words. I then wrote a third version, which is posted below.

Version #3
For me--my reality
Is alive with constant friction
Glimmery sparks
Heated and hot
Tantrums of chaos

Obsidian, really; my fractures are
Real. Chasms of fire and belief

Fantasy, at least mine,
Lives where reality
Ignites, burns brave
Genuine, this flame
Helps me hold on
To my truth

About three days after I posted version #3, I found the first poem that I had written. It had been in my car the whole time!!! Anyway, below you'll find version #1. I was surprised at how different the poems were.

Version #1
Fantasy: magnetic, hypnotic
Insists on surrender
Giving in, giving up
Heated--the fantastic ignites
The composure of reality

Over, this thorough
Resolve. I am weak and

Filled with limitations
Life, lust, my appetites
Greedy and self absorbed
History, her story
To battle or break away



The weight of his stare
The weight of his stare
Heavy enough to break bone
Heavy enough to break bone
Enough break, heavy weight
To the bone of his stare

I can feel his eyes
I can feel his eyes
Tapping at my spine
Tapping at my spine
Spine tapping his
Eyes I can feel at my

The way he looks at me
The way he looks at me
Presses hard, almost hurts
Presses hard, almost hurts
Hurts the way he presses
Looks at me hard

At the bone, I can almost
Break his spine
His weight: heavy, hurts, presses
He looks way hard
At the me of my
Enough to feel
Tapping eyes stare

*A paradelle is a modern poetic form which was invented by United States Poet Laureate Billy Collins as a parody of the villanelle. It is a poem of four six-line stanzas in which the first and second lines, as well as the third and fourth lines of the first three stanzas, must be identical. The fifth and sixth lines, which traditionally resolve these stanzas, must use all the words from the preceding lines and only those words. Similarly, the final stanza must use every word from all the preceding stanzas and only these words. Simply said, the last two lines of the first three stanzas use all the words in that stanza. The last stanza, however, incorporates every word that is used in the poem. As I stated earlier, the 'paradelle' is a parody. However, I think of it as a sort of word puzzle. I loved writing it.

Not all reviewers of Collins' book recognized that the paradelle was a parody of formal poetry and of amateur poets who adhered to formalism at the expense of sense. Some reviews criticized Collin's poem "Paradelle for Susan" as an amateurish attempt at a difficult form without ever understanding that this was, indeed, the point.


St. Louis!



young men--boys, really
extreme energy explodes

these crossroads
between wrong and right
there are no high roads

so trite
consort crisis
weary of polite

immature bliss
physical perfection
hurts to dismiss

daydream defection
noiseless screams
phantasmal selection

bright and gullible
giving off steam
nothing but trouble

*The Urban Dictionary defines a cougar as "a 35+ year old female who is on the "hunt" for a much younger, energetic, willing to do anything male."

This poem started out as a terza rima, which is poetry written in three-line stanzas (or “tercets”) linked by end-rhymes patterned aba, bcb, cdc, ded, efe, etc. There is no specified number of stanzas in the form, but poems written in terza rima usually end with a single line or a couplet rhyming with the middle line of the last tercet. However, as you can see, my last stanza is definitely not a single line or couplet. So my poem is kind of a terza rima, but, technically....not really.


'N' Words

In a nutshell--
I am neurotic
neural pathways
networking with
negative notions
How can I stay
Where is my
Naked, naive,
dressed in this
napkin thin
my necklace is a
Come closer--
n e a r e r--
I'm ready to

Related Posts:
'A' Game
The 'F' Bomb