drunken delight - Mocha Delight does it all in raw POV

drunken delight
Mocha Delight does it all in raw POV

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Left my wine in a hot car - will it be bad?
I'm gonna find out in a half hour or so I guess, when I start my drinking.

But it's a magnum of pinot grigio. Stone Cellars by somebody I forget. I drink a lot of the stuff because I get it for $11/magnum bottle, and that gets me just the right amount of drunk for a night.

The cork was half way out the bottle when I brought it in earlier, though the bottle was still full. I pulled the cork but it didn't seem to pop much.

Do you think the wine went 'flat' or stale or whatever you wanna call it?

We'll find out soon enough. I probably gotta drink it regardless, since I hate to be wasteful. No way am I pouring a night of drunken delight down the drain.

Tell me what you think. I'll give 10 points to the answer that most pleases me.

you should be okay. just as long as the cork wasn't totally out of the bottle exposing the contents of the bottle to excess moisture and air, which would cause it to get kinda funky. just make sure to slightly chill it though.. hot wine = gross wine

peace and love
tiffany fiske

I've got to say something, right?
Last Saturday I went to a colleague's stag do. Not really my scene, but all the lads were invited.

Anyhow, the inevitable lapdancing club visit centred around the groom to be having a lot of flesh shoved in his face to the drunken delight of the stags as is the custom and I went home trying to put certain thoughts out of my mind...

Perhaps predictably, this lapdancer was mentioned once or twice on returnin to work this week. Anyhow, it turns out that "Randy Mandy" (original, eh?) who performed for the groom to be on the evening is actually HIS COUSIN.

I don't know this guy very well and have only met his wife to be once before. I can't help but think, though, that she shouldn't be about to marry him without knowing that he happily receives lapdances from his cousin.

Maybe she already knows. Maybe it's okay with her. After all, cousins is legal. Who am I to judge?

But if she doesn't know and isn't okay with it, wouldn't she rather be told?

Suggestions???

you dont know these folk very well so dont get involved
move on and laugh about it

Oasis poem?
a harbour of dream drunken delights
with rainbow wrestling arches
launching schemes
weaving plots
sewing spectrums
of kaleidoscoping colour streams
Scotch-guard tartaning both
wretches & riches
with riddles

disapporving of Apollo
in favour of Pan
perhaps only an issue of taste
but freedom demands
that one can

the hearts plight...the souls appetite
pie-eyed piping
through plashing glen
& wandering woods
blowing the bellies bellows
guttural-soul-stomache spilling
(the pit) of greed & gluttony
serenading the sky
silky soft & blue....
standing fast...fall true
falling to that lap of luxury
i call you

I love this poem because it is so rich in vivid, powerful imageries. I also love the allusion you made to Apollo. Well written and strong in its very essence! Good job. =)

Do i tell him I still have feleings for him and love him?
I am an 18 year old male, and bisexual, although I have not come out yet. Not long ago I was introduced to a boy, 17 years old, through one of our close friends, although we had only met each other fleetingly in the past, and had never had any opportunity to get to know each other. There was a gang of us going out on the town. We got on amazingly well immediately, and I was very attracted to his personality and his looks, but I thought I knew that noting would come of it, so of course I did nothing. Of course as we got to know each other throughout the night I began to like him even more, and I think I caught him looking at me a few times, and we regularly made eye contact. As the night drew to a close we all piled into a taxi to get back home a few miles away. I somehow ended up sitting next to him, and I still don't know whether he intended it or not. It was dark, and everyone was too tired to notice much, he out his arm around my face and started kissing my neck. I immediately became very excited, but I could not do anything as I was too scared that people would notice. When we got back to my mates house where we were staying we all just collapsed in the lving room floor, but he made eye contact with me and we managed to wrangle staying in the same bed together, alone. We kissed, cuddled and fooled around through most of the night. The next day I was worried he would regret it and put it down as a drunken experience but to my delight he asked for my number and email in order to talk to me more as we lived far apart. We talked constantly, learning we had more in common than we first thought. It qucikly turned from lust to love for both of us, and we stayed up late at night just talking, we both agreed to meet up again. We met up at another party we were both were invited to, and we kissed, cuddled and what not. I really do love him, I crave his company, I want to hold his hand, I want to hear his voice, his jokes and I just want to fall asleep in his arms. However, we were very weary about our friend, who we were sure might of read some texts that we sent each other, as he started to act oddly and we didn't want anyone to know. As much as I didnt want to I decided to ask him whether or not we should break it off before anynone found out about our sexuality, he agreed with me that it would be too dangerous to carry on, and that we should stop doing things with each other, but we agreed to stay good friends. Although I knew it was for the best, it is not what I want, and I think he may feel the same way as we still talk over the phone and internet just like we used to. I want to tell him that I still love him and that I want to carry on seeing each other secretly and if anyone finds out we can just deal with it. Is this the right thing to do? Please help.

Tell him what you feel. I think you'll be able to deal with it if your friends find out about the two of you. Good luck.

Will you bow down the the Great Bliss Queen?
Adorned by moonlight: Prayer of the Great Bliss Queen by Yeshe Tsogyal

"Adorned by moonlight her form is sublime,
her beauty will pass from your eyes to your heart,
and there it will subdue the vagaries of mind,
A trellis of joys where the vine grows and flowers,
she is the darkening island of Love.
To the vermillion one who wounds with the arrow of her glance,
I bow down.
To the boon giver of love who is passionate and joyful
effulgent and playful,
I bow down.
To she whose form is the ocean of bliss I bow down.
To she who delights in Love,
who is marked with the colors of red and white,
I bow down.
To she who delights in the flavors of feeling,
rejoicing in the rasa of delight to you the giver of happiness I bow down.
To the queen of intoxication,
I bow again and again.
To the vermillion ocean,
whose hips are heavy,
whose breasts are full,
whose thighs are strong like pillars,
I bow down.
To that one whose lips hold secrets,
who is the stealer of hearts I bow again and again.
To she whose eyes are restless,
whose head is marked by the sign of the full moon,
and who holds a fire within her belly,
to she who boils the milk of a lion,
and churns the milk of passions into the cream of love to that one
I bow down.
To her whose hair is the black of swarming bees,
whose throat is the black of a peacocks feather,
whose eyes are the black of deep night,
to that Devi whose body is all rasa,
and whose longing is untouched by lust,
to she whose touch is the mudra of unstained Love,
I bow down.
I bow to that one whose eyes are dark with longing and bloodshot with sleeplessness.
I bow to that one who is the beauty of redness,
I bow to that one who splendor deludes the deluded and intoxicates the drunken,
To she whose mind is untouched by flaws I bow down again and again.
To the blossoming of flowers and the swarming of bees,
I bow down.
To the delight of guyren and the roughhouse of dogs,
I bow down,
To the swaying hips of the elephant,
I bow down.
To that celestial banner of midnight blue and infinite stars,
I bow down.
To that Devi who is the wine cup of Love again and again,
I bow down.
To the one who delights in appearance,
I bow down.
Dyed in the color of rasa her laughter awakens the dawn,
I bow down again and again.
Surpassing the ruby she is the queen of bees,
the mother of peacocks,
the friend of tigers the companion of sunrise,
She is the sweetness of honey,
the aroma of sandal,
She is the mandala of liberation a galaxy of wonders,
To she who is free from shame,
untouched by birth,
to that Devi who is beyond the boundary of Beings and Buddhas,
I bow down again and again."

wellll your going to hell

Hi what do you think of my descriptive writing could you please point out errors and good things thankyou?
It was a bitterly cold winters night. Sparkling frost clung to streetlamps, decorating them with a shimmering finish. Stormy winds violently rocked the glistening trees, making them sway wildly like a drunken man. The flailing grass broke free of its frozen constraints as the storm raged on and the first droplet of icy rain fell. The heavens opened. A torrent of unstoppable rain ransacked the whimpering city. Traffic ground to a halt as the never ending rain fell violently making it impossible to see. The city paused. Frozen in a moment of time. Each droplet of rain, not one the same graciously hung in mid air. Each droplet caught the desperate light of the moon that was fighting to break free of the storm clouds and burst into glorious light like a thousand stars all bursting into one joyous existence.
The buildings shrank away from the rain, as roofs flooded, windows caved and cars crashed. The magic disappeared and chaos returned. The web of wires that usually encased the cities sky line like a spiders web was faltering under the elements ferocious gaze. Rubber particles strained against one another fighting a methodical madness. The rain did not cease. Rubber burst and copper split, wires sent schizophrenic sparks spraying onto the city below. A small bus which had a shining red paint coat (although it seemed dull in the ferocity of the storm) caught the deadly sparks square on. The paint seemed to scream as it was burnt off which perhaps foreshadowed the disaster that was about to occur. The bus driver a middle aged man wore a large leather jacket and dark blue jeans, he had a ruffled moustache and wore glasses that were slightly to big. His face was a mask of concentration as he tried to manoeuvre the bus through the horrific amount of rain. Concentration morphed to surprise, as sparks illuminated the bonnet. The bus swerved into a nearby post office destroying a lamp post as it went. The fuel tank ruptured and an explosion worthy of the gods lit the sky.
Chaos raged on. The river that ran through the city centre was usually a small delight for anyone who cared to sit on a bench and snack on a sandwich. It was fascinating to listen to the rivers delightful sounds and to some it was like listening to the song of an angel. But delight turned to destruction as levees that protected the strained river banks struggled to hold under an assault from the rain. The river burst unleashing its fury upon the cowering city. The elements ruled, Lightning flashed which served only as a way to illuminate the horrified looks upon the scared citizens. The tidal flood surged destructively through the city managing to topple gargantuan statues and small plants alike.
A raven perched upon the tallest building which stood 40 stories high looked undoubtedly impressive, as it caught the glinting gleam of the lightning. Its beady eye surveyed the city below as if judging something. The raven took flight and was soon swallowed by the storm clouds. Street lights faltered… lamps flickered and darkness swallowed the city. Darkness suited the city better than light. It swallowed the screams and the horror, leaving way for only uncertainty. The only light now was the moon which glowed eerily over the flooded city like a mourner at a mausoleum. The rain never ceased, never ended and never faltered, It could alter reality, smash dreams and conquer cities. It was death.
It was a bitterly cold winters morning. A crystal blue sky was illuminated by an icy cold sun. Frost had settled on top of buildings and streetlamps. Icicles hung like daggers poised to strike from the tips of taller buildings. There was a dreadful silence that plagued the cities streets, an all consuming silence. It was birds that broke the dreadful silence, their song was beautiful and mourning. The city died.

You have really good Imagery in this, but for the most part is Imagery, so if you were going for that it was great! I would watch your punctuation, you have alot of short sentences, which could be fixed, but they are not that bad, mostly I thought this was a very good piece, keep writing.

Michael Vick?
I often hear people saying that other players in the NFL have been convicted of things "much worse" than Vick, like DUI/vehicular manslaughter, selling drugs and other such things but they still play. I feel that these people are missing the malicious, blatant CRUELTY of what Mike Vick has done. I feel that they fail to see the element of intent that is present when you kill a dog on purpose or pit them in horrible fights againsteach other, an element that is not there when someone is selling drugs or gets in a drunken accident and kills somebody. True, a death from a DUI is terrible but it is an accident. You didn't intentionally kill the person. You didn't sit back and delight in their suffering or hope to make money off of it. That, to me, is the difference.
What do you think? Is there a difference? Do you think Mike Vick should be allowed to play in the NFL again?

i personally think they should put him in prison and let the guards take bets on fights between him and the other convicts (preferably big, strong ones).

Has the character or prayers of our elites both military and financial changed since this was written?
The raven himself is hoarse
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come, you spirits 45
That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,
And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full
Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood;
Stop up the access and passage to remorse,
That no compunctious visitings of nature 50
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts,
And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,
Wherever in your sightless substances
You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, 55
And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,
That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,
Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,
To cry 'Hold, hold!'

---

Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun
And descant on mine own deformity:
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up,
About a prophecy, which says that 'G'
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here
Clarence comes

www.youtube.com/watch?v=7dVPwWc5z…

www.strimoo.com/video/17415749/Th…

Accensions by murder -- plots of war -- falsehoods told for gain and lies to spread hate for control

Have the prayers and plots or the character of our elites changed one bit since these plays were written?

i would say not at all. people don't change....faces do...time does...but human nature hasn't.

nice read...thank you

What do you think of my poem? Feel free to critic, but be nice, i get sensitive too :)?
Deck of Cards
by Fumie

Hearts, Diamonds, Clubs, & Spades
all faced the smoky wooden girl
face filled with awe
with a seepage of unnerving leisure
come aboard her weak,
trembling, frigid hands.
Hesitant at first,
she questioned the goal?
the Four answered,
"What matter did a goal hold?
We promise unendless fortunate games!
Shuffled, mixed, or scrambled,
there will always be a new game.
A new delight :) "
The words flowed like the temptation
of saccharinity
Eagerly,she made the accord
the memoir offered,the Life
It never ended.
It never failed.
It never froze.
For the moment at least
the clock had no tick tock
the cycle of pleasure beguiled
the girl to maze of fantasia
drunken half-seas over
Cards spread in a fan-like manner
gracefully by hand
she played her 52nd game
deranged in the delirium...
Until It arrived
laughing hysterically,
"the Joker"
the girl paused at the banquet
"Why, have I ever seen you before?"
the joker replied,
"Have you not? You've played
with several of my

I like it but it is long very meaning full

The final section of my Stanley Kubrick epic...IS COMPLETE!?
I ended it at A Clockwork Orange, because it's nearing 8 pages now. What do you think of this? I'd say it's my best one.

VIII. A Clockwork Orange

(Spoken word)
“There was me, that is Alex, and my three droogs, that is Pete, Georgie, and Dim, and we sat in the Korova Milkbar trying to make up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening. The Korova milkbar sold milk-plus, milk plus vellocet or synthemesc or drencrom, which is what we were drinking. This would sharpen you up and make you ready for a bit of the old ultra-violence.”

Later that night, we hit the town,
And a filthy old drunky was the first victim we found.
We beat ‘im good, oh, nearly to death. I could see, in the air, his drunken breath.
Later in the night, we met our old rivals,
Chances were low their survival.
I hit one of ‘em hard wif’ a chair,
With oil dripping off their yarbley hair.

In the hours succeeding,
I found myself breeding
With the devochka of an old fagging writer.
And later that night,
A woman’s singing delight
Did grace my ears.

The following day,
We decided to pull off the same crimes the same way.
And much to my surprise,
I found the police before my eyes.
After beating the woman inside,
My droogs shunned me aside,
And I was put into prison.

A murderer, a murderer,
That’s what I am.
A brutal, savage, sickening sham
Of one to be looked upon as a ‘man’.

There’s a way to get out, a way to be saved,
Faster than acting well-behaved.
Some sort of mind-control
To twist your soul
And make you completely humane.

They hooked me up to the machine,
And made me watch ultra-violence on the screen.
I was shocked and appalled,
“STOP IT! STOP!” I called,
But my cries went completely unnoticed.

After the torture, they put me on stage,
And they watched me perform like an animal in a cage.
They set me off into society,
And with a crippling amount of anxiety,
I returned to my parents’ residence.
They refused to let me in,
Due to the way that I had been.

I stumbled throughout the entire town,
Being beaten, attacked, and almost drowned,
But the one man I knew I could trust,
Was the fagging old goggley who I beat with disgust.
He knew of my trials, my torture and pain,
And used this knowledge to his own personal gain.
For me, he did play Beethoven’s ninth symphony,
A beautiful piece, which caused me only agony.
You see, it’s the music they played in the torture machine,
The one that I found so horribly obscene.

I ended it all, or at least I tried,
And much to my chagrin, I had not died.
I was barely alive when my parents walked in,
I wanted to stab my father with a nozh or a pin.
But I refrained, of course,
Although my mother acted positively coarse.

Well, now, I can think freely again,
The government had me under its den,
The press adored me, and with this I assured,
That’s right, my good droogs; today, I was cured.

Err I don't know who Stanley Kubrick is... well, ok, I just looked him up, but that doesn't count. Well, if you wrote this, then it's amazing. Quite entertaining. :)

Lol it's a movie? I'm somewhat confused...