"intoxicatingly" poems
One moment we laugh, the next we cry
Invigorating this emotional rollercoaster ride
So slow going up, so fast coming down
Young hearts breaking at the speed of sound
Slapped in the face by the experience of life
Unwarranted emotions of hatred and strife
Roundabout the station we begin to ascend
Straight down then curve as our minds warp and bend
Terror overpowers and tortures our souls
As we reach our ****** of out of control
Attached to life’s rails we’re moving so fast
How long can we expect this passion to last
But nobody wants this ride to be over
It’s all so intoxicatingly sober
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 12:10 AM UTC
A poesy to those who earn a life of little recognition.
Beneath the fabric of the world’s tainted expectations, lies what many fail to explore, few discover and the luckiest cherish.
Blessings that cannot be traded, bought, nor sold.
A benison unable to become impoverished.
Gifts that grow and sprout delicious fruit.
A colossal heart of gold.
The hue’s of their soul glows intoxicatingly bright,
and guide those in the dark.
A benevolence whose warmth is palpable to the lives of those surrounding them,
with out a demand,
and only a thirst to love.
With unfamiliar brilliance, these people fall anonymous.
Many of the carriers unaware of what beats within.
Blind to the beautiful wake of life trailing behind their actions.
They smile as if nothing has been done, where everything has.
Their inspirational hearts, when noticed shine so much beauty, you’re left in bewilderment.
As skepticism fades, cynicism falls, hate dulls, and questions are left with answers.
As fear is replaced by freedom.
You watch the kindness ask for nothing,
as only a desire to follow remains.
Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 11:24 PM UTC
flowers have always been considered a cheezy romantic thing
but why can't it just be a normal thing
maybe it's the little girl in me that adores flowers but i do
i want flowers everywhere
if i could have flowers in several spots surrounding me right now
i would
because flowers are beautiful
they bring light and life into any room
they bring smiles to those being delivered to
they are absolutely stunning and they smell intoxicatingly sweet
i feel like flowers should be more commonly adored
and not by just the people society accepts to adore them
all people, all men women and in between should just have them
because who wouldn't want to be given flowers
platonic flowers, romantic flowers, family flowers, i'm sorry i forgot to buy the milk flowers, you made me laugh last night flowers, or i think my favorite
you make me happy flowers
the best kind
but if i'm being honest all flowers are good flowers
buy somebody you love flowers if you can
anybody because flowers are not only for partners
it's for people and to show that they make you happy
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 12:30 AM UTC
Her Father's old wool jacket,
from Johnson Mills,
in creamy white,
dark forest green,
golden amber,
in a lovely patchwork,
A soft dark winter tuke on her head,
that dark green in the background,
with rusty speckles on her cheeks,
Wet snow falls silent,
the sky is a crisp Winter blue,
the air is cold and clear,
& intoxicatingly clean,
As she breathes life in and out,
then,
looking down at her black Sorel boots
and her worn black denim jeans,
a nice old holey wool sweater,
and a maul,
A **** lumberjack?
Maybe...
Dressed to hack the wood,
the plumber thinks so,
he stops by,
a friend of hers,
sorta,
Huh?
Not invited,
but no one is around here,
we all do it,
so he helps too,
Hey I'll make lunch,
harmless flirting,
I suppose,
Because,
wood warms you 3 times they say,
Once to chop it,
two to stack it RIGHT,
three to bring it in & burn it,
But if you count the starting of the,
cantankerous chainsaw & the guy,
helping you,
And you hafta arrange & rearrange, everything,
cleaning the flue and chimney,
I'd say a few more than that,
& don't ferget to pay the man,
the cantankerous one,
Yeah he got lunch too,
and about them ashes,
could be pretty hot,
take 'em out regular,
that stove cranking too,
OUCH,
She ends up gets burned,
a few times each year,
Taday,
she's on step too,
as she picks up the heavy maul,
not to heavy for this gal,
all the way back,
watch yourself,
As a neighbor winches,
a woman chopping wood?
Yup.
That's right,
a way of life,
for her,
always has been,
poised and ready,
swing and smack,
if you hit it right,
you hear a crack,
Just like a baseball bat,
hitting a homer,
Big pieces,
are made more manageable,
when you don't try to control the force,
when you let the sharpened maul,
Do all the work,
for you.
Cherie Nolan © 2016
Nov 20, 2016
Nov 20, 2016 at 1:40 PM UTC
A never-ending stairway rises into waking clouds
Where questions spin intoxicatingly
No one sees the hidden mind
Climbing helplessly
Forever seeking answers
It cannot see
There are swirling voices whispering “Why”?
Floating spirits of constant “How”?
Guiding this quest internally
Yet no one sees the hidden mind
Climbing that stairway
Helplessly
Are there windows at the top of the stairs
Where a mind can find freedom
Perhaps look out and all answers see
To stop all these questions
From spinning around
Intoxicatingly
Feb 22, 2011
Feb 22, 2011 at 3:59 PM UTC
seven years young, always sharing a still smile.
You find him decked out and drowning in choir robes, with
Golden curls placed gently on a hammered head.
This boy plays piano in a dead sanctuary
Following familial rule,
until he let it all go.
the boy began playing music unwritten,
off hymnal sheets
Harmonious melodies stream from dancing fingertips,
Intrinsically clearing the once-cloudy air with vivacious voodoo.
The boy’s fingers groove up and down the piano,
His touch graces ivory keys and
His foot performs a rhythmic pedal-pressing tango.
He calls the audience: everywhere, eyes ignite like flame:
A communal headturn towards the piano.
They need more.
They crave it.
All the sanctuary people rise from the seats,
Abandon their pews, they enclose this boy.
No means to scare him, they want to experience.
The audience turns their ears towards the piano’s emissions,
Emanating from within
Inhaling soundwaves—
Intoxicatingly sweet.
They absorb his notes into every pore of their skin,
Fueling their bodies with musical nutrients.
Electric jolts flow right into the room’s extremities.
They let down their hair and begin to dance.
Until a brief noise, distinctive throat-clearing, came through the speakers;
Heads shifted to the podium, only to see their ticked-off pastor,
Smirking and waving sarcastically.
Discipline.
The congregation stumbled back to their seats.
The boy stopped playing.
Ending the enchantment, killing the sanctuary.
Air again filled with ‘God’s voice’
through the mouth of the speaker.
A speaker who just wanted attention.
The boy slipped out of the piano seat, out the church’s doors.
You want to chase after him, give him a ride
Where could the boy be going in the middle of the storm?
The pastor’s prodigal son.
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 10:17 PM UTC
Hands on my throat always crushing me down, putting me out, and turning me on
I don't know how you got here but won't you stay and laugh dear
Know one needs to know what we do when we're alone
She don't even miss you and he will never know
Intoxicatingly delicious, so much so it's suspicious
How can you taste so good when the flavor's all wrong
Not sure what I'm doing but I promise I won't stay long
Pin me, choke me, bruise me colorful until I'm pacified
Scream until your throat bleeds every time your heart beats
Necromancy not love, just enough to pretend we're alive
Our fingertips glow in red hot brands leaving us hissing
Cut open from sharp tongues clashing and kissing
Leave through the window never the door
Or you might knock again and ask me for more
Feb 5, 2022
Feb 5, 2022 at 11:15 PM UTC
You smell just as sweet as before.
Life flowers.
Roses and blood.
Both such warm, rich colors.
The smell is absolutely delectable.
So intoxicatingly sweet, it burns in the back of my throat.
Who knew your scent would drive me crazy?
I let the stained knife slip through my fingers,
It hardly makes a sound against the satin sheets.
Did it really have to go this far?
Beautiful.
You are so beautiful.
It's no wonder I love you to death.
Apr 17, 2010
Apr 17, 2010 at 5:53 PM UTC
tired head resting upon crisp, clean
white linen pillow cases.
worn muscles enveloped
in the hills and
valleys of plush, cream bedsheets.
aching spine relieved by the firm, comforting pale mattress.
all that is out of place,
is your warm, perfect, lovely,
heavenly smelling, intoxicatingly ****
more perfect than Michael Angelo
body.
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 6:26 PM UTC
The change is
Intoxicatingly
Beautiful
Colorful life forms
Suddenly cover
The entirety of the ******
Formerly a deathful void
Now a beautiful and lively
Whole
Her breath sends
A sweet scent
Over all of the
Land
A happiness
*So unexpected
So lovely
So breathtaking*
I do not know
What to do
With my overflowing
Heart
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 12:44 PM UTC
So I was just thinking... and I wanted to write something that would resonate in people's heart but then something crossed my mind.
There's this boy.
I've never met anyone like him, in fact, he's one of a kind.
I don't mean to sound cliché but it's true.
I've never had someone look at me the way he does & he does it with such grace.
Sometimes I try to imagine what would my life be like if he wasn't in it.
But I can't.. I wouldn't want to know what it'd be like.
His mouth stretches from ear to ear exposing his bright smile that I adore.
Ya know it's kind of funny how I let someone in.
I mean I had this sort of wall that he unknowingly took down..
I'm not afraid to feel vulnerable -- he gives me nothing to doubt.
The way he holds me I feel like all my worries and troubles fade out of my conscience.
This is a kind of love I've never had -- real love.
I lay my head on his chest and just listen to it beat at a steady pace.
This is where I wanted to be,
wrapped in his embrace where I felt at home.
A home that I long for every time I have to leave it -- him.
His eyes are this deep shade of brown I have yet to figure out, but I am very close.
His lips sit so plump and move so gracefully you'd think he's speaking a foreign language -- the language of love.
Ya know I was doing fine by myself, I was making it.
But when I stumbled upon him, I wanted to know more.
And suddenly I couldn't get enough.
He is like my favorite bottle of *** -- he's intoxicating.
His troubles are my troubles, his worries are my worries.
This boy.. Oh this boy my first real thing.
No I don't care for who was before me and what they were like.
Because just like him, I'm one of a kind.
The things we could be are limitless -- to infinity and beyond..
So I was just thinking... and I wanted to write something that would resonate in people's heart but then something crossed my mind.
There's this boy.
And I'm intoxicatingly in love with him.
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 7:31 PM UTC
High-
Smoke in the air,
All you do is blow smoke.
Lies linger in the heavy air-
Intoxicatingly heavy air.
Unbreathable lies-
Unbreakable ties.
Mind so light,
floating above a head weighted with lead.
At some point we all believe we’re better off dead.
Might just be the smoke,
but my life is one big joke.
Coming and going
everyone
coming once and
Always
Leaving.
Always
breaking-
Promises.
Lies
Pies
and then—everyone dies.
High-
Smoke in the air,
That's all they do-
blow smoke in the air
It fills the room to capacity—
only for a moment
and it is empty once more.
Empty promises made ‘
lies created to pacify a situation.
Its all just empty smoke.
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 12:02 AM UTC
Drink me, I’m whole
more than your sad Merlot
warm down the throat
intoxicatingly so
Humor me with this
a demise of burgundy and blush
of laughter through the night
of sweet nothings, no rush
Please, for me
don’t rush.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC
Intoxicatingly, mistakenly
You’ve caught my eye and now you’re leaving me
Hanging
At least in my head, I’m better off dead
When you leave me hanging
And you’ve ghosted for days
I’m waiting and waiting
Contsantly thinking about what you might say
Or what I said wrong
Will you reply?
Or just write me off...
Or maybe you’re busy
Maybe you’re tired
Maybe you haven’t checked your phone in a while,
Maybe he’s camping and service is bad
Haha I made myself sad and happy again.
But I’m still left here waiting and hanging and waiting... to see what you’ve said.
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 11:00 PM UTC
Oh he lost his dreams,
lost his being,
his will to seem,
to think, to be,
to feel, to see,
he went down to the bottom of every nug,
little boy, little child,
heating up that,
green ****
dank skunk filling,
rooms and missing the gaps in his,
little heart,
but coming so close,
getting so numb,
intoxicatingly close to,
an actual feeling approximating,
someone close, someone caring.
Don't go to class. Don't go to school.
Stay in your room smoking.
Invite a few friends,
occasionally, not too often,
must keep appearances,
Must keep appeasing,
As he becomes disheveled,
As he looks for Molly,
Alice and Squiggy,
Hugs his grinder,
like his late mother...
Little boy, little fool,
how young you must be,
not to see the truth.
oh but to be sure,
he was his own little *****
Till his blood pressure rose,
And the heart attacks came quickly,
He couldn't stop, couldn't stop,
He must have died that day,
Oh, he must still be dreaming,
Still in the clouds,
In a kingdom far away from here,
a Kingdom of one,
solemnly,
named addiction and persecution,
of Self.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 11:05 PM UTC
Twist and turn me,
Rip and bite me,
Let me feel something,
All I ask,
Inspire my veins and give me reason to draw one more breath,
I ask of you,
Ignite or hurt me,
I beg of you,
Let me bore my way out of this intoxicatingly boring atmosphere
Where I can't get one **** word in,
Enrapture me with dreams and wonders,
Let me feel something of anything,
Be my muse and try to entertain my atoms,
Don't let them go to sleep.
Don't let me be tired
Entice and take me,
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 9:45 PM UTC
It’s me
But it’s not me
The witness behind
It’s always watching
I pretend to hide
This is my life
So why would it care
What ever I think
It is aware
And when I give in
Nirvana take over
The laws of nature
Intoxicatingly sober!
Dec 3, 2020
Dec 3, 2020 at 7:15 AM UTC
unity of the sea
chaotic on my heart of grace
near to the dawn of hope
where i lay my secrets to rest
soft as the bark of the decaying tree
ignited by the sparks of clashing reflections
of silver-lined clouds
sweet anchor
lured by the surrounding essence of your evolution
forgotten and bemused
for your vision remains the ecstasy of my being
the anarchy to my resolve
leading me astray from my home
for everything in you has flourished in my dying territory
but when i flee your path in fear of crossing lines
and the danger set to my heart
will i be hunted by your guards?
for you hunger its purity
no, maybe i am to expect a new horizon
intoxicatingly beautiful
and blind to the prospect of chance
delved into the trenches of the water
unafraid of its findings
someday, i shall declare my allegiance
beyond the glimmer of a fallen pledge
and i too, will bathe in its tranquility
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 11:20 PM UTC
I can't help but
Let the tone of
My voice change
As I wink, with love
My eyes glimpse at
A beautiful person
And my heart flutters
The world spins, in motion
Your subtle curves
Long body, thin
Your long but precise fingers
Let rest your chin
You lean into me
And your smell is intoxicatingly sweet
Your smile fragile
Your body radiating heat
You swing my way
And I'll meet you half way there
As your body draws into me
I attempt to show I care
People may stare when
We hold hand in hand
I stopped caring a while ago
This is our land
So let's kiss in public like normal
Let's talk sweet and sentimental
Because a girl and a girl can love
More than the judgmental
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 1:56 AM UTC
I should be saying
That I'm thankful
For every breath I take
But truthfully
I'm not.
Every time I inhale
It's a long draw
Of a cigarette bud
That isn't mine
Forcing me to wheeze
And cough up the venom
That scorches my lungs
I am cursed
With the longing
To breathe fresh air
And rid myself
Of what I've become so attached to
Just because it's not my nicotine
Doesn't mean I'm not addicted to it
Addicted to dying
Addicted to the thrill of wondering
If this will be
My last cough
Quitting isn't my choice
I'm not the one
Who lights up
With shaking fingers
Shielding a flame from the wind
I'm just the one
Who enjoys
The ashtray full of burnt consequences
I don't have the option
To become unattracted
To the white clouds
Floating around your lips
I was already convinced
That following you
Was as good as resting in the sky
Even if my rest
Was on pillows
Made of poison
I can't say I'm thankful
For the intoxicatingly
Toxic air
That you spoon fed me
But I sure am blissful
I'm not stupid enough to think
Thankfulness and blissfulness
Are the same thing
I am smart enough to know
That honestly
I'm no better than you
Even if I wanted to be
You never offered me
My own cigarette to smoke
But standing next to you
I'm as good as dead.
Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 3:03 PM UTC
...when he turns the wrong direction
down a one way street
and your heart stands still
...that freshly bathed and laundered aroma
that swirls around your brain,
intoxicatingly clean with a hint of nature,
unblemished by cologne
...effortless introductions,
accompanied by full grins
and glimmering eyes
...stumbling upon the perfect harmony
to the melody of his chuckle
...the vertical space between hearts measuring at over a foot
while the horizontal space from strong, broad shoulders
to delicate freckles rests at less than 3 inches
...a first hug exchanged, gentle and cautious,
yet still leaving a burning fire
where skin met skin
...this
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 3:15 AM UTC
I miss
Your kiss.
The sensation of your lips
Soft and intoxicatingly sweet
As they locked with my own
And your tongue slipped in.
I miss
Your embrace.
The warmth that seeped into my body
As I wrapped my arms round your waist
And pulled you flush against
My core,
yearning to become one flesh.
I miss
Your fingertips.
And the curly hair that brushed
Softly o'er my face when
You stared into my eyes
Studying every brown/green pigment.
I miss staring into yours.
And tracing up and down your skin
Whether it was exposed or hidden.
I miss
Your conversation.
Your soft voice and vibe
That has been the focus of poetry I've written
In past times
And even now at this very moment.
I miss you
And
Just thought I'd write this
Poem that you'll never see.
And as much as I hope,
"All the world's a stage",
And you getting a second act will never be.
You're now just a sad, yet beautiful memory
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 12:12 AM UTC
Say
her eyes are
intoxicatingly
limpid pools.
Dive deeply.
Swim joyously.
Get drunk
on her soul.
Later,
enjoy
the best
hangover
ever.
~mce
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 5:19 AM UTC
***Friday Night: It’s a **** Thang**
Smoke fills the air,
the sweet doobie scent
of high
times and
my fingers raising rainbows
as they travel across your naked skin.
Apricot nippled *******
brush my lips with
a music intoxicatingly
****** and you drip sexuality
all over me.
A love leaving me spin
in wildly exotic,
red lacy visions
of your mescaline funk
and lips on mine
driving me drunk with allusions
of your quivering release-
the l o n g
s l o w version.
Oh no, “I don’t want a cure for this.”
As Diana says,
“Don’t call the doctor.”
I just need more tokes
on this sweet, sweet love.
Aztec Warrior/redzone 2.19.16*
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 8:43 AM UTC