"internalised" poems
I believe that fairy tales are just that: fairy tales.
Magic doesn't exist, and of course imagination is just that: imagination.
Something not real, an internalised, idealised creation.
Happy ever afters,
and Prince Charming hero's,
are just a lovers fantasy notions.
But we are there,
You know,
at that stage where Romeo is madly in love with...Rosaline.
Those evil family relations surround us and a wicked stepmother who overrules.
Girls everywhere are obsessed with being the fairest of them all,
Eagerly anticipating a dark and handsome: Mr. Tall.
Waiting on that fairy godmother to appear,
but its already too late because the wolfs already had his dinner,
and a sleeping beauty has yet to be kissed out of her nightmare.
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 6:36 AM UTC
Beneath this ironed shirt and tie
I breath in slowly witnessing
The simple changes
Passed before the night jury
Seven days faded since
But still I see the closest moments
Closer still for distance
Internalised and persistent
We are all due our changes
But masters in the art
Of final ignorance
We never see it coming
Until it finds us
Unready and wanting
To take what was given
Without ceremony or purpose
Leaving only emptiness
In memory of joy
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 12:55 PM UTC
She arches her back on the yoga mat,
channelling Durdle Door.
In full-length breath
and composed hypertension,
she remains unmoved
as the world about her
suffers to mass
and the moving ocean floor.
Well-versed in the effects of cold air
and rhythmic bombardment,
she has learned a stillness
to rival the effects of pink wine
on her nerves
and her taste for cigarettes.
My sweet Venusian,
despite physical prowess,
cannot sustain her poses
against time and internalised illness.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 3:39 PM UTC
Lisa and I played a round of frisbee-disc golf today—let’s reminisce.
I love the ‘live performance’ of sports, how you must physicalise
discipline. You get this instant feedback that you have to own and
lean hard into. The being present to adjust, the internalised mechanisms of performance—the ‘liveness’—is the most exciting thing about sports. And, of course, the one who does it best wins—there’s a simplicity to it.
Being Sunday, the course was crowded with guys. Most of the groups were college teams of five or six guys. Since there were only two of us, we were playing faster.
I don’t like going up to a group of guys and asking to play through.
They always let us but we get these appraising looks—not strictly golf related—that you can feel. So we skipped around the guys and played open holes—still playing 18—they just weren't contiguous and it took a bit longer.
It was great to get out in the sun. The course was all rolling fairways, there’s no grass greener and no sky bluer. I came in 14-under (straight brag). I’m a little competitive, my ego loves to be placed in a hierarchy, and winning seems to give form to me, it’s such a pleasant and coherent narrative.
As we were leaving our escort Charles stepped away for a minute and a couple of Yale looking guys offered us a ride back to campus—which was all very innocent and chivalrous—to save us waiting for an Uber or something—I'm sure (we were all sweaty and looked like drowned rats).
‘Sure,’ I thought, ‘let’s run off into the sunset.. not.’
But I said, “No, thanks, anyway.”
.
.
Songs for this:
Golden Boys by Res
Fruitcake by Subsonic Eye
Apr 14, 2025
Apr 14, 2025 at 12:34 AM UTC
Isn't it funny how we underestimate the power of our voices?
this sound that emanates from our throats, formulating words...
...are not just noises
Right?
I'm guessing it's pretty silly to assume that our voices are just perfectly placed noises, combining to converse with others, argue with others, woo others, defend others, offend others...
And it occurs to me that my voice, is not used the way I want it to be
instead, it's being limited. Limited to the sombre pleasures of others
entertaining people who probably don't bother, much about me
instead my voice is caged up, way up in my own thoughts
They say talking to yourself is the first sign of schizophrenia
do people who fear talking talk to themselves? Glossophobia they call it.
I say talking to others contributes to our enraging insanity
the society that conceals my voice, taints the will to be heard.
One day I got up from my seat in class to say a speech
I was surprised with what I was about to meet.
first came the silence, then the bafflement
people for the first time got the chance to hear my voice
Bewilderment? yes, Endearment? no
for what they heard was not the sound of a nightingale in the forest
but rather the sound of an emancipated prison screaming to the reaches of the farthest
The scene made me sit back and assess
my life looking back needed to be addressed
A voice isn't supposed to be internalised, is it?
But why do I struggle to break out?
Why is it so hard to let people hear my voice?
Why, why, why
My answer?
That's what you get when you underestimate the power of your voice.
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 6:14 AM UTC
for three hours i sat in a forest
with today's newspaper -
Leicester foxes are champs,
Corbyn on anti-semitism:
don't mentioned ******
or to be precise eva braun,
who was a jew, ha ha...
and the leftovers of the cantos
(30 pages till the end)...
i put so much life into that ****
book, flowers to be mummified,
a su doku square,
mirror with shelf installation instructions
(richard von coudenhove-kalergi
graffitied),
a drunk girl's scribbles about
a thesis on chocolate...
a real Frankenstein of a book
should you find it in sotheby's
auctioning rare and the macabre
of people involved in writing history...
i sat there thinking about a black
hole in a conversation from friday...
who the hell was the last Travelling Willbury?
ah... Steve Lynne, the guy from
Electric Light Orchestra - also amused by
a red pond mite, scuttling on the moon
or mars surface that my book represented
in a forest environment it's used to...
finally in Wales and China...
peering at the remnants of rex reptilian...
alien, alienation... insects, we're improving
our search;
insects, yeah,
first the reptilians, second the mammals,
the last to evolve are insects, aliens -
and you will not want to meet a massive
fly that spits hydrochloric acid saliva
as an inversion of an internalised digestive system,
i.e. with a digestive system outside -
remaining arguments for an exoskeleton,
meaning you have to digest things outside your
body to keep up the overall mush inside -
forgive the anti-muscular leisure,
internal-muscular meaning mammalian;
what? you sold me Darwinistic historicity
that kinda makes the 19th century irrelevant,
or last Sunday... **** you not i'll sell you this;
backup monkey chew of an eucalyptus branch
and you expose a Chimpanzee
baby-sitting a Koala.
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 3:58 PM UTC
She unaware, acceded to the invitation
his deeds would haunt her,
a restaurant and laughter
an after kiss followed by her gnawing expectation.
internalised, fear of commitment.
She in turn absolved lingering impressions,
where bare stone walls only cherish
the wherewithal to survive future loneliness undetected.
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 1:47 PM UTC
How to have a real **** day -
By Aidan A.
Lets start with face palming your phone onto the floor
Its like what little social life I have
Has just shown me the door.
Lets amplify that
With the fact
That my internet
Is in a state of disconnect,
So the mobile hotspot
Keeps me from internalised rot.
Fast forward to the next morning
When you wake
At half past eight
Assuming that the girl youve been seeing
Will arrive soon instead of being
A few hours late.
You head the **** out because the lack
Of wifi
Slowly stupefies
And then you are told that the LCD is ******* up,
It needs replacing
At a price too high
To justify
So you proceed to purchase
A secondhand mobile,
Unknown to you
That will be the best it gets for awhile.
You contact your sweetheart
But now shes got other things to do
Instead of tentatively spending the day with you
And in your understanding
You can't help but feel a bit ****
So you grab some BK -
This is where it gets metaphorically gay.
(Dont get offended I used it that way.)
Jump into the driver's seat
Realising the ticket hasn't been paid for
And the useless paper bag
That encapsules the takeaway
Is now leaking Coca Cola
All over your car.
Yeehaw. What a ******* great day.
I don't know what else to say.
Don't pity me though
Thats not Aidan A.
I'm on edge cause I've been sober too long
But its better this way.
Besides
I've run out of ***** to give for today.
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 3:33 AM UTC
The cushioned fabrics of early sensorimotor expression placate the salivating ghouls of formative destinations which lurk at the neurological gates of repulsive awareness - stripping our fragments and revealing the cellular walls of repelling invitation.
Unfortunately, each surpassing second dictates her significance across zones and frequencies, while we succumb to the arduous process of being ignorantly unwrapped and unleashed into the bountiful emptiness of insight.
That’s life.
In this crude and psychological pre-operational stage of misplaced trust, we are pressing against cosmological forces, into the realms of internalised experiences where the veneer is eventually understood to be characterised by utmost deception.
Let us become formal amidst this abstract projection into harsh environments where the donning of masks can no longer be undertaken with sincerity.
Here, my universal being of connected severance, is the gorgeous discovery of abhorrence.
Like I said: it is the beauty of our beast.
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 12:06 AM UTC
i guess anyone can be dragged into some zetigeist point of interest; and as anyone, here are my two-pence argument.
so i'm listening to this "dicussion" -
or what became a heated debate...
firstly, since dialectics only works
one-on-one between only
two people, and is subsequently
reduced to screaming and shouting
if staged in a public place
with interjections from
flies and gnats who throw in their
own two-pence worth of supporting
either of the two people having
a "discussion"...
well... another thing about original
dialectics,
and modern dialectics?
the mediator...
in original dialectics there
was no mediator, unless of course
if you suppose socrates was the mediator,
even so, that ancient mediator
asked questions...
the modern mediator?
doesn't ask anything other than
asking one speaker to not interrupt
the other speaker...
the topic of discussion i was
listening to?
transexuality...
****** confusing,
something confusing was bugging
me...
why would i have to call a man
a transwoman?
shouldn't i be calling a man
transman?
otherwise i'll be confusing pronouns...
or not using them "properly"...
i just think that proper nouns are
not being used...
it's not for the man to identify himself
as a transwoman...
why?
i'm the "cis" man who's supposed
to identify the man, as a woman,
and what happens then?
the man retains his inner-trans conceptualisation
i.e. i am beyond being a man,
there i must show to cis men that
i am...
e.g.? i was "fooled" by blaire white,
i thought she was a woman...
and i still couldn't believe she wasn't when
she did a video showing her pre-transition
photographs...
see!? what's this ******** about
improper pronoun usage?
what is happening is, AN IMPROPER NOUN
usage, by the man, who is a transman
within himself, but a woman to me,
therefore i have no problem in finding her
attractive;
it would be easier to decide in
Scotland, i know that... is a woman who internalised
her transition and became a transwoman
was wearing a kilt... and phoom!
the garden of eden, and a river running
though it, down the middle.
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 3:02 PM UTC
I honestly can’t tell you how I feel if I haven’t fully internalised my emotions.
My ex-girlfriend used to tell me that showing vulnerability is a weakness.
Even when we were both falling in love, she always kept her distance.
For a good reason that never sat well with me, that’s why we let each other down like gravity.
I’ve been repeatedly questioning myself for over some time now, why am I lacking longevity?
We could never rewrite our history because even if I gave her the galaxy, she would still need more space.
My Buzz Lightyear heart was willing to love her to infinity and beyond.
This is pain and poetry, this is me drowning in depression and loneliness.
This is me admitting that I am an emotional wreck, my heart is in a mess.
I’ve been concerned about caring for everyone that I lost touch with loving myself wholeheartedly.
I’ve been concerned about caring for everyone that they gradually stopped checking up on me.
So, from this point onwards, know that all these poems will no longer be written the same.
These words cannot explain the tidal waves of mystery I always find myself drowning in.
These waves of depression drown me in complete silence, so even if I cried for help you wouldn’t be able to hear me.
It’s unfortunate that even if I cried for help you wouldn’t be able to save me.
Nov 23, 2017
Nov 23, 2017 at 8:20 AM UTC
#*Internalised screams
Muffled cries
Your silent eyes
Your broken smile
Unspoken confessions
Raging anger
Your beautiful isolation
Your aching voice
It pains me to walk past you
Not saying a word
As if I am ignorant of what I have seen
As if my ignorance would almost make it disappear
Would it?*#
Dec 31, 2019
Dec 31, 2019 at 2:30 PM UTC
does the youth of today realise
it doesn't run a monopoly
of internet content?
do they? really?!
with the context of internet
banking... and online shopping...
can youth of today please **** off
with their belitteling chants
and, please use the playground?
it's become a bit like giving
an aged psychopath a red button,
to launch a nuclear weapon...
oh wait: here comes the nation
getting all paranoid... being the sole
powehouse to have... actually detonated
it on a civilian area!
yeah... russia is bad... no no tommy,
no no jim...
they're like germans...
they imploded... and felt guilty...
but instead of producing great machines
of the 4 wheels... they decided upon great
movies... guilt is internalised in many
shapes and sizes...
the french were reasonable
though...
it's a bit like that fire-cracker story...
set of a petard in your hand when it's
open... you'll get a scratch...
but set off the fire-cracker (petard)
while your hand is clenched...
boom! try waving after that...
the french were reasonable
in that they did their nuclear tests
in aquatic environments...
natural insulators...
that's actually not reasonable
in the puritan sense of the words...
where was the japanese army bombing
the **** out of the tsunami wave of
2011 tōhoku?
i swear the army could have intervened...
bombed the **** out of the massive wave
and stopping it by dividing it...
where was the *** army?
oh right... nowhere... there was a helicopter with
a reporter going: oh ha! nagasaki!
kimono sa ka!
i swear... if they bombed the **** out of
that wave, it wouldn't have travelled inland and
ever had done the damage... that it had done...
so much for the army... and so much
for the *** emperor...
eh?
you bomb the tsunami wave...
the wave doesn't travel inland...
1 + 1 = 2?
really? was that the time to consider
the question as a rhetorical ambiguity?
by the way? there's no such thing as a rhetorical question...
not in the way the phrase is dropped...
you really can't ask a "rhetorical question"
if you're rhetorically sound, i.e. readied to
blah blah for the next half hour...
who asks a rhetorical question
is not someone already performing the sophist art
of performance speech that goes: on and on, on and on...
if someone says: that was a rhetorical question...
it's just covert tactic for them to keep on talking...
what the **** is a rhetorical question?
answer? the person asking that question,
keeping up with their monologue.
a rhetorical question doesn't endorse
a dialogue... a rhetorical question, as a phrase
is a solipsistic / sophist tactic: the two
ought to be synonymous...
for the person talking... to just keep on talking
(you can do that pigeon neck movement
speaking the italics... yeah... like you're
head-banging).
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 2:37 PM UTC
ITS ALL DONE NOW - BY KRISTIE T -12TH APRIL 2007
6 July 2012 at 01:04
ITS ALL DONE NOW, OUR LOVE IS GONE
BITTER SWEET, INTERNALISED PAIN FOR TOO LONG
TO ME IT FELT RIGHT, TO YOU IT FELT WRONG
ITS ALL DONE NOW, ITS ALL GONE
FEAR, PANIC, PARANOIA WON OUT
NO NEED FOR US TO SCREAM OR SHOUT
FOR YOU WALKED, NO, RAN OUT
BEFORE YOU REALLY KNEW WHAT I WAS ABOUT
ITS ALL DONE NOW
OH AND HOW, FOR LOVE, YOU DID NOT ALLOW
AND WE BOTH FELL FOUL
TO OUR FEARS FROM THE PAST, NOT WHAT IS HERE AND NOW
ITS ALL DONE NOW, NO MORE TEARS, NO MORE CRYING
YOU'VE GIVEN UP ON ME, GIVEN UP ON TRYING
I ASK, HAVE YOU ALSO GIVEN UP ON SMILING?
YOU'LL NEVER SEE, THAT DEEP INSIDE OF ME I'M DYING
AVERT YOUR EYES, NO MORE QUESTIONS, PLEASE STOP PRYING.
ITS ALL DONE NOW AND I FEEL WEAK
MY FIERY SOUL UNCHARACTERISTICALLY SUBSERIVANT AND MEEK
FOR IT WANTS TO GIVE MY WOUNDED HEART THE FREEDOM TO SEEK
TRUTH & LOVE, ALTHOUGH RIGHT NOW, THE PROSPECTS SEEM BLEAK
ITS ALL DONE NOW, NO RAW EMOTION LEFT TO SHARE
I'LL KEEP IT LOCKED INSIDE, SEEMINGLY NOT HAVING A CARE
BUT LATE AT NIGHT, I AM HAUNTED, TAUNTED & YOU ARE WHERE?!
I ANALYSE, BLAME, FULL OF REGRET & CONTINUALLY ASK -"DID I PLAY FAIR?"
ITS ALL DONE NOW, THAT WAS THE FINAL FAREWELL
MY VERY CORE, MY ALL, MY HEART BEING TORTURED IN HELL
I SHALL TAKE TIME TO HEAL, FEEL, RETREAT INTO CRABBY SHELL
WHEN, IN TIMES YET TO COME, & I BUMP INTO YOU, MY EYES HIDE MY PAIN WELL
FOR ITS A HUGE AND BLATENT LIE THAT I'M TRYING TO SELL
PRETENDING I'VE RECOVERED, MOVED ON, FROM THAT SPELL OF WHICH I ONCE FELL
ITS ALL DONE NOW
AND TIME IS A GREAT HEALER, OR THATS WHAT SOMEONE ONCE TOLD ME
I WISH I COULD TRAVEL INTO THE FUTURE AND FIND MYSELF HAPPY AND FREE
BUT AT THIS MOMENT OF WRITING, I''M STILL WISHING YOU WERE HERE WITH ME
I WISH YOU COULD SEE
JUST HOW GREAT LIFE COULD BE
IF ONLY YOU COULD HAVE BELIEVED AND TRUSTED IN ME
MY LOVE WOULD HAVE SET YOUR SOUL FREE
BUT SADLY YOU DID NOT ALLOW
AND SO I HAVE TO REPEAT OUT LOUD
THATS IT, ITS ALL DONE NOW
YOU ARE ONCE MORE JUST A NAMELESS FACE IN A CROWD
ITS ALL DONE NOW
SHOUT IT OUT LOUD
KRISTIE BE PROUD
YOU CAN TURN THIS AROUND
ON DAY HE'LL SEE JUST WHAT HE HAD FOUND
WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN HIS, IF ONLY HIS HEART HAD ALLOWED
ITS GONE -ITS ALL DONE NOW
LET GO - LEARN & GROW -FOR YOU KNOW
ITS ALL DONE - ALL GONE
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 1:53 PM UTC
The green eucalyptus were in array
as I walked at the edge of the earth
consumed in the midst of the unknown
or was it just a figurative forced mist
illusioned on pictures in depths of mine
whilst the sun rays shone light
through these windows into my withins
and my eyelids were steady in the middle
at the centre where all the spirits awashed
and life vanished like an uncertain rainbow
Yet I was so young at heart, unable to see
and looking back, I can’t seem to understand
or even hold tight to that mystery angel
the one that brought me to the city of the sun
in another time, after another rapture
where psalms whispered of an eternity
and sonnets were effervescence and marginalised
and the questions were sought and internalised
and happiness became the solid I consumed
at the heart of paradise where it all fades
Come yee symphonies arise to the skies
above the sun each holding to the other
Let me just follow merry and nourished
hoping to be tangled in the lost rhythms of the sun
Apr 7, 2019
Apr 7, 2019 at 4:58 AM UTC
I’ve grown numb
And accustomed to
Whatever that was deemed
Extraordinary.
Does this make me dull
If the complexity of the universe
Has become
Ordinary?
No longer a stranger or an enigma
To my inner experience?
Does this make me boring
If I no longer find joy
In discovering something
Unsurprising?
For when you
Constantly dwell and live
In the unknown
Is it really a big deal
To find something unexpected?
I mean... what did you expect anyway?
I am more interested in human interactions
In the consequences
And the causes
Of my actions
And I have internalised the outside world
And the outside wonders and
Discipline and harmony
Has become my quest and
My childish discovery.
Oct 1, 2020
Oct 1, 2020 at 1:17 PM UTC
An embrace as no other
A child, rarely demonstrative, but blue, blue eyes of oceanic depth
Most frequently silent, yet the sharpest observer
Secrets internalised, never betrayed
A woman, love cascading
Regret potent
Unaware of life’s unfolding promise
Both yet to reconcile the future with this aching emotion
Child clinging, woman enduringly embracing
Suppressed emotions ease and pure love flows
Hearts fuse, soothing, affirming, eternally bonding
Poignancy so forceful, onlookers stilled
An embrace as no other
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 4:27 PM UTC
I catch a glimpse of it the first time very unexpectedly.
Something distracts me from your shiny smile and i only notice a small little sparkle.
I watch you when you are beaten down and i see you struggle, but i never see you pull it out.
It is lodged quite deep, i see it one day when you're asleep, not vulnerable. You're just yourself when you're asleep.
One day i get a hold of it somehow. I know it hurts you, i ask if i should pull it out. You say it's not time yet. I ask you why. You tell me that the wound is still fresh. I frown, let me make it better, I say. 'You are.'
Over time, I feel it loosening up. When you get the good shivers while i stroke your neck, i watch it almost slide off. You don't notice it because I think you don't want to.
A few days later i see you watching your back in the mirror. The knife is gone. You smile a weak smile. You're about to say something but you stop, i know what it is. You would have said 'i weirdly miss it'. You keep it on the bedside a few days. It doesn't sit right with me, but it has to be done, for you.
A few fays later you drive me far away, we find a corner and bury it. We watch the last of it- steel, covered in blood, glint for the last time as we cover it with the last bit of earth.
You hold my hand tightly. We come home in silence. You cover me in a protective way. I tell you I'm sorry you went through that and i sob. You stroke my neck, in a way that gives me the good shivers. You tell me you wanted to do this for so long. But as much as it was hurting, you wished for it to be that way. You had to carry the pain till it became dull otherwise, you said, the **** already had a sharp knife i didn't want to make it deeper by holding a grudge. Why should i suffer alone, i used to think, you said.
But you look at me and say i think all a wound needs is some time to heal and some kindness. You say this is forgiveness, thanks for letting me discover it, i realise that what hurt me had to be discarded.
Pain internalised is grief accomodated.
You trail a dimpled finger down my spine and poke at a tender spot, i wince, looks like i stopped at the right time you say.
Mar 25, 2024
Mar 25, 2024 at 3:48 PM UTC