Intoxcy8me

Too Late the Lantern Why question my stillness, when you ignored my plea? When my silence screamed, you failed to truly see. You turned from the trembling that lived in my core, Now you seek comfort from a closed door. Why question the scars, when you dismissed the fray? When my spirit fractured, fading day by day. You watched me crumble, but never lent a hand, Now you trace the damage, as if you understand. Why question the chill, when you embraced the frost? When my warmth was offered, and utterly lost. You felt the coldness, yet stood so unconcerned, Now you shiver at the lessons fiercely learned. Why reach for my trust, now that my guard is high? When once it beckoned, beneath a hopeful sky. You come with solace, now that I've found my stride, But too late the hand that once was cast aside. Why seek my presence, after casting me away? When solitude became my only stay. You buried my worth beneath your careless stride, Now dig for embers where they used to hide. Why mourn ...

Echoes of the Unfinished Youth's swift current, hurrying to the sea, Leaves marks upon the soul, for all to see. Many watch dreams recede, like distant sails, And hold to shadows when the daylight fails. Yet some stand firm, though aged by the sun, Their spirit's battle, far from truly done. They know how swiftly joy can slip away, And how illusions falter, day by day. Old eyes have seen the falsehoods life can spin, And question why the heart still lets them in. They ponder justice, a forgotten art, If bitter tides will ever truly part. The fiery passions of a younger mind, Seem distant echoes, left so far behind. The urgent cries for change, a fading tune, Beneath the quiet of the crescent moon. The soul that poured itself, a flowing stream, To mend the broken, live a selfless dream, Can find itself alone, when evening nears, Confronting burdens from uncounted years. No time to gather, no new craft to gain, Just solitude, alongside lingering pain. Yet in the depths, where...

Beyond the Glow They rise to data, not the light, Their faces bathed in pixel-bright. A world composed of curated views, While silent, real life slowly clues. No warmth to feel, no ideas to lift, Just endless scrolling, quick and swift. A tap, a like, a fleeting praise, Through filtered, digital, busy haze. The mountains stand, the ocean calls, But eyes stay fixed on virtual walls. For instant facts, a quick demand, But wisdom gained, not understood by hand. Yet life's true growth won't flash and gleam, Not in a constant, hurried stream. It lives in patience, sweat, and strife, The messy, tangible, vibrant life. One day, the signal will run thin, And real consequences will begin. Not through a screen, but through the quest, Of grounded truths, put to the test.

The Screen Holds Everything They wake to pixels, not the dawn, Eyes locked tight, the world withdrawn. Fingers dance on lifeless glass, As fleeting moments slip and pass. No hands in soil, no sweat on brow, Just voices echo—empty now. A wish, a swipe, the world complies, Yet nothing real behind their eyes. The stars still shine, the rivers flow, Yet few will watch, or ever know. For every answer, one demand, Yet not a lesson learned by hand. But life won’t come in flashing beams, Not in shortcuts, nor in streams. It waits in struggle, earned and won, Not in a world that gives for fun. One day, the silence will be real, And all they held, they’ll start to feel. Not through a screen, but through the weight, Of effort’s hands—their true estate.

Beneath vast Western skies, where dreams take flight, Please don't fence me in, not day or night. Let the horizon stretch, unbound and wide, No earthly tether, nowhere left to hide The yearning soul that longs to roam and stray, Beyond the lines that man has drawn today. As I gaze up where the full moon gleams, A silent witness to my wildest dreams. Let my spirit wander, like the desert wind, Through starlit canyons, leaving doubts behind. To touch the quiet, where the mountains rise, And find my freedom in those open skies. No walls, no bars, no boundaries defined, Just boundless wonder for a seeking mind. To feel the wildness, ancient, pure, and deep, While moonbeams guard the secrets that they keep. Let my true self, untamed and ever free, Return to vastness, calling out to me.

Morning’s Gift Morning awakens, soft and bright, Dew-kissed grass, bathed in light. Golden rays upon the trees, A whispered promise on the breeze. Robins sing, their voices true, A melody in skies so blue. Lilac’s fragrance drifts with grace, A gentle touch, a warm embrace. I lift my heart with joyful praise, For mercies new in golden haze. Like robins singing at the dawn, I find His love to rest upon. The scent of grace fills morning air, A holy whisper, strong and rare. For in my soul, His name I raise, And pour my worship in His ways. Morning’s here—a gift divine, Each sight and sound a sacred sign. For God has sent His love anew, And holds His promise ever true. Psalm 59:16 "But I will sing of Thy power; Yea, I will sing aloud of Thy mercy in the morning."

Leaving Yesterday Behind If you carry the past, a burden and a stone, A heavy weight, that chills you to the bone. It anchors feet, where forward steps should stride, And keeps your spirit tethered, deep inside. The weight will whisper, secrets, soft and low, Of hurts endured, and seeds of sorrow sow. It holds you close, a prisoner to its might, But life was never meant to cease its light. Not meant to die, held captive and confined, By shadows that the day has left behind. Each wound you bear, each scar that marks your soul, Each aching memory, taking its own toll. These are the lessons, etched in lines so clear, Of strength discovered, conquering every fear. Not heavy chains, designed to hold you fast, But wisdom gathered, from the moments past. The sun still rises, in a hopeful gleam, Across the canvas of a waking dream. The skies still shift, in hues of gold and blue, Tomorrow's dawn, is waiting just for you. It does not call your pain, or claim its right, To dim the promise...

The Wilderness Within We stir from slumber, in a place unknown, A vast expanse, where wild seeds are sown. The wilderness, our waking finds us there, Beneath an open, unpredicted air. No map is given, no clear path defined, Just waking senses, leaving dreams behind. And in that moment, fragile, fresh, and new, A fundamental splitting comes to view. For some lift eyes, and catch a distant gleam, A breaking dawn, fulfilling hope's soft dream. They see the potential, in the rugged ground, The quiet promise, waiting to be found. The light that filters, through the branches high, A sign of guidance, written in the sky. But others gaze, where deeper shadows creep, And secrets that the tangled thickets keep. They see the dangers, sharp and drawing near, The lurking worries, cultivating fear. The overwhelming darkness, closing fast, A future burdened, by the heavy past. No light appears, no hopeful, guiding ray, Just deep uncertainty, obscuring their day. The same wild landscape, stret...

Grace Unending O Lord, Your love, a boundless sea, A well of grace poured out for me. Upon the cross, You bore my shame, And sealed my heart with Your holy name. Your mercy shines through darkest night, A guiding star, a beacon bright. In trials deep, my soul You keep, Your promises, my heart does reap. Each morning new, Your love appears, Dispelling doubts, calming fears. Your Word, a lamp unto my feet, In You, my joy is made complete. Though storms may rage and skies turn gray, I trust in You, my Rock, my Stay. Your plans are good, Your ways are true, I lift my eyes, my hope's in You. O King of kings, O Prince of Peace, Your kingdom’s reign shall never cease. Forevermore, with songs I'll raise, A life surrendered to Your praise. Amen.

Threads of Love When I was five, mom placed a poetry book in my hands, Words and verses, like seeds in the sands. At eight, I wrote my first poem, never looking back, Each line, a light on a well-worn track. She taught me faith, devotion, grace, Gave ten children true love’s embrace. Through churches built and prayers she’d weave, A life of giving, never to leave. Her hands stitched stories, her meals told tales, Each spice, each thread—love never fails. Sitting close, as the needle danced, She spoke of dreams, of life’s expanse. And in the backyard, side by side, A homemade swing, where hearts confide. We talked of hopes, of skies so wide, Her love, my anchor, my constant guide. So here I stand, with pen in hand, Writing the love she helped me understand. For in my heart, her words remain— A mother’s gift, becomes a sacred flame.

It's Never Been Easy It's never been easy, this winding road, Heavy with burdens, quietly bestowed. The days stretch long, the nights grow deep, Yet still, we rise, though hearts may weep. It's never been simple, never quite light, Carrying shadows, chasing the fight. Yet in the struggle, in tireless flame, We carve our strength, we earn our name. Through storm and sorrow, loss and gain, Through love that heals and hurt that stains, It's never been easy—yet here we stand, Holding tight to all we planned. The weight is real, the climb is steep, But through the trials, the soul will keep. For every fall, for each dark sky, We rise again—we learn to fly.

The Forging of the Gentle Soul They are not born beneath a softer sky, With hearts untouched, where shadows never lie. The kindest souls, they do not simply bloom, Escaping darkness, knowing not its gloom. They are not gifted, from their earliest breath, With innate softness, ignorant of death— Of tiny deaths, of hopes that turn to dust, Of shattered certainties, of broken trust. The kindest people? They are forged in heat, Where life's relentless hammers sadly beat. They are the ones who've known the biting cold, A story written, tragically unfolds. They are the ones who've stumbled in the night, And fought like warriors for a single light. Who've dug themselves from pits of deep despair, And clawed for breath in thin and heavy air. They are the alchemists of loss and pain, Who sift the ashes, finding seeds of grain. Who gather fragments of a broken dream, And find a lesson flowing like a stream. They do not curse the hand that dealt the blow, But understand the ...

Anchored Within In the midst of raging doubt, I found there was within me, an unshakeable trust, Like a deep foundation, settled firm in solid ground, proof against the gust. In the midst of gathering darkness, I found there was, within me, an enduring light, Not a fragile flicker, but a steady glow, pushing back the night. And that fills my spirit with a quiet, settled peace. A calm that reason cannot fully grasp, a wonderful release. For it whispers truth when chaos tries to reign and make me cease, And plants a certainty that brings my striving heart to cease. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me with its fear, No matter how the waves of trouble crash, or how the shadows draw so near, No matter how the enemy whispers lies, intended to ensnare, Within Me, there's something stronger— something better, answering every prayer. Something that rises from the soul's deep core, a strength divinely lent, A quiet knowing, a conviction pure, on promises i...

Silver Threads We almost had forever—stitched in silver thread, A thousand whispered promises, left softly in their stead. The echoes linger, faint but bright, Like stars that burn throughout the night. The moments held, yet never made, Are woven tight but start to fade. A love once dreamed, yet never told, Like autumn leaves that lose their gold. We almost had a lifetime, long and wide, A story grand, yet left untied. Yet still, within the quiet hush, The memory stays, the heart still rush. For even in the love we lose, The past still walks in fading hues. And though the years may bid it go, The silver threads still softly glow.

Lady of The Night by Intoxcy8me She looks so exotic, this lady of the night. Her hair curled, mascara, just right. Little black dress, meant to impress, checkmating you in her game of chess. Drinking the latest flavored vodka craze, soaking in all the continuous praise that both sexes offer and she doesn't mind. Adjusting her dress to reveal her full behind. High heels on, toes painted red. If she winks at you, she leaves you dead. Smoking Capris, but only for effect; an oral delight that leaves you wrecked. Her tattoos tell a story she's willing to tell. She'll take you to Heaven, then back to Hell. Piercings, a promise, that she has more. She exhales a thin line, you drop to the floor. Midnight approaches and she gets up to leave; feigns disinterest, she means to deceive. Then catches you staring directly at her chest; her eyes fixate on you, disregards the rest. Handing you her room key, as she walks by, you earn the envy of every girl and guy. You rush outside and...

Fading Tapestry A tapestry of silver threads, almost our fate, A thousand whispered promises, now lingering late. Echoes of what might have been, faint yet they gleam, Like distant stars, throughout night's silent dream. Moments suspended, never quite embraced, Woven tight in memory, though time has defaced. A love unspoken, a dream left untold, Like autumn leaves, their vibrant stories of gold. A lifetime stretched before us, a canvas so wide, A grand narrative, its chapters left untied. Yet in the hush of solitude, a memory's art, The heart still stirs, where silver threads impart. For even in the love we've lost, a presence remains, A ghost of beauty, in softly fading refrains. And though the years may beckon it to flee, The silver threads, in gentle light, still will always be.