"internalizing" poems
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"And then one day you came back home
You were a creature all in rapture
You had the key to your soul
And you did open that day you came back to the garden
The olden summer breeze was blowin' on your face
The light of God was shinin' on your countenance divine
And you were a violet colour as you
Sat beside your father and your mother in the garden
The summer breeze was blowin' on your face
Within your violet you treasure your summery words
And as the shiver from my neck down to my spine
Ignited me in daylight and nature in the garden"
In the Garden,
song by by Van Morrison
<>
***This touches me deep in the chest cavity,
the palpitations of its internalizing echoing cavitations,
a warning, go slow, choose your words wise and
accrue, the mood,
for the ache of creating, hurts, fevers me
for I am but steps away from the garden,
and its violet hues infused with fresh sunrising golden hazes,
with kindly warmth, with warming kindnesses,
touches,
caresses my shoulders, begs me to stop crying,
overcome, for I am overcome, eyes dropping wetting droplets,
for find myself at the intersection,
interlocking crossroads
where perfect perfection
begins and must
meet its natural endings
thoughts of capture, retentions, preservations,
all impossibilities, challenges,
see me, begging itinerant
muses
in the neighborhood
to guide my hand, teach me newsome words,
mine feel so old, so unworthy of this moment,
hearing me solicit their
Treasure of Summery
Words
but they won't,
excusing themselves,
that this in particular human has exercised, exorcised,
all the tools in his ever diminishing capacity,
time insufficient to learn a new calculus of
addition
and bid me calm my heaving chest,
seize my tears, just add them to the brackish salted waters steps
awaiting away
live in this moment
live within this poem,
revisit it frequent,
weep no more,
your stilling heart weakened,
take fast what is given now,
and be contented,
your treasury chest is full,
overflowing with this summary of
summery***
but I am not, cannot…
7:48:am
jul 22
Jul 22, 2025
Jul 22, 2025 at 8:03 AM UTC
Most days, you're not a woman developer,
you're a developer.
You work just as hard,
You (try to) talk just as fast
You keep your feelings under the surface (barely)
Actually, scratch that
You're always a woman developer.
you're just so used to internalizing these habits
Trying to have confidence in your skills
despite the impostor syndrome pulling you down each time slowly, like quicksand
Trying to make up for the confidence you never had
compared to someone who always had it all
Trying to not cry in the kitchen because god who
is allowed to have feelings
Trying not to talk about men who made you uncomfortable because oh my god
for the fact that people call women overreacting
most men seem to make every little statement about them, have you noticed?
oh wow, isn't this just reverse sexism?
oh wow, can I even talk to women?
Being so vocal about being queer and Indian but if you make
one noise
one sound
one phrase
about your experience as a woman
because in such welcoming company you subconsciously thought why not
You let down your guard
But
There goes the shattered glass as the topic of gender-based discrimination is finally broached
There goes the thing nobody ever talks about
There starts the debate you did not want to participate in
"Oh wow you're so harsh to these guys"
"We were just slamming what they were doing, you slammed their actual personality wow"
"I just said they sounded like a brogrammer"
"sure if you say so"
"Isn't that just an arbitrary description"
How do you explain
How do you describe every nuanced experience about
Every male in your life
who have been exactly like this to you
How do you explain the light discrimination
The harsh discrimination
The systemic problem as a whole
How can you condense all this into a workplace environment talk
Where you don't usually talk about this?
Where you don't know if you can actually talk about this
Where you know that you ultimately don't want to talk about this
cuz how can you explain these feelings that they can never understand
You shut up and move on with coding.
But inside, you're conflicted with ideas of presentations to express the fact, or never speak about this again
Because in the end,
You're just a developer, not a woman developer to them.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 10:42 AM UTC
There's a contentious subsection
Of the homosexual community
That go in a different direction
Hoping to find social immunity
The word masculine
Is the mask they're in
To live life saccharine
Wearing a plastic grin
From the sensation
Of over-compensation
Actuating placation
To differentiate
From the effeminate
They say they're separate
But really they're just desperate
To be accepted
By their own dejectors
To not be rejected
They become defectors
To avoid ridicule
They stack their deck with nothing but physicality
Their mind minuscule
The albatross on their neck is a lack of personality
To please those that compare them to **********
Internalizing their homophobia
An infernal mighty cornucopia
Creating an over abundance of rules
One must follow to be a proper male
But we should jump out of the pool
If being miserable is what that entails
The more genuine version we see
The happier we all should be
Then we might all be free
But if I were to show glee
Someone might call me a ******
And I don't think I could hack it
When the rest of society backs it
With an approval that is tacit
So I convince myself I'm avoiding identity politics
Using total discretion
To make no impression
But my friends and family would know that's not what I'm doing
So why not tell them?
I haw and I hem
Because the underlying ghostly shame
Is the true nature of this social game
When you have the fame of the flame
You're told to get in a lane of the same
Erase my ******* sin
With the title masculine
There are practical reasons to hide it
But how much time will be bided?
Will my life be derided
Until the evil are delighted?
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 12:58 AM UTC
trying not to
**** myself like
gratitude journals
and internalizing every
word on drake's new album
trying to understand
why you want to **** me
in the middle of
12 am twitter dms
wearing your words
like a straight jacket
that once made me feel
free
tiny desk concerts like
a hard life lesson
with lukewarm thoughts
of you on the hottest
of days
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 2:30 AM UTC
It is said...
That the eyes
are the window to the soul
So..
If that's so
I wonder what one must see
when they look into me...
Perhaps...
these dark pools of oblivion
Are.... too deep
That must be why
Some just glance and walk away
Always looking like
My eyes took the life
Out of all .... they wanted to say
Now...
I just wear sunglasses...
Sparing those who would
fall into my inner abyss
I prefer to be incognito...
Internalizing all my own ****
Who says I have to share it
Who says anybody needs to hear it
Complaining is like an infection
First one ...then everybody
falls right in....
Well...
Not me...
Im gonna wear my sunglasses
and keep
all my twisted
****** up emotions
To myself.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 7:23 PM UTC
Self-inflicted,
internalize.
Don’t say a thing, just shut your eyes.
She doesn’t want to hear,
why you feel this way.
You grate on her nerves,
when you keep mentioning those things.
Cry in your pillow,
and internalize
whatever you are thinking.
It’s just in your mind.
Self-inflicted.
Internalize.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 6:33 PM UTC
i like everything about you just the way you are as you are when i met you. point blank.
i don’t have any preconception of who you feel you once were but aren’t now, that you wish you still were. that person doesn’t exist in my mind. the past doesn’t settle into my conscious. it’s just faint musings of something that doesn’t seem real or tangible to reality.
the person you currently loathe, i adore. the person you pine after, i feel nothing for other than what i feel about you now, because i don’t see him and you as separate or different selves the way you do. you are you. no matter what you perceive yourself as being, you are yourself perfectly.
and yet at the same time actually, i see you as very separate internally, with the work you’ve been doing, even if you don’t totally see that yet, because i know if him and i met when he existed in that state of mind we have both previously occupied in loneliness, neither of us would have been able to make sense of the other the way we can now. we both would have been too lost.
if that makes any sense. self vs internal self. treading water vs being swallowed alive. together vs loneliness. you vs a shell of who you are now.
it’s such a complicated balancing act but i wouldn’t have it any other way. when we backslide we are betraying no one but ourselves, even when it feels like we’re accomplishing and internalizing something greater than ourselves. we’re emptying our lives with our bodies, and it’s not fair to the selves we’re struggling to keep intact now for us to do that. we have things to live for. you have things to live for.
i like you now, not then. even if you see things flipped around. i don’t see any see-saw or scale that tips or drops to equal self-acceptance, nowadays with this disorder, i just see an hourglass. i know. i know it’s not that simple. but you’re the only one who sees value in what was. the people who love you now don’t see that, only how it has hurt and tortured you for far too long, and how much the person you are right now deserves to be free of it.
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 4:05 AM UTC
It is one in the morning,
My eyes open,
It never fails.
No amount of cotton clouds
Or sheep to count
Can send me back to dreams
Yet to be dreamed.
Nothing else can make me drift,
For I am now wide awake.
Down the stairs I quietly walk
Careful not to waken the others,
Lest they stir from their ongoing snore-y visions.
Straight to the kitchen, I tiptoe,
Make myself a mug of hot, hot coffee,
So I could start
reading,
Taking in a mixture of
Glorious, mad,
Magical, loving,
Happy, groping,
Sad, vengeful moments....
But internalizing all these emotions
Takes its toll...
I stop: it is time to write of
My own moments of glory...
Which incidentally,
Rhymes with...momentary,
Poetry, dignity,
Love-ly, friend-ly,
Complexity, celebrity,
I could go on and on...and
There is only one...
One exceptional moment
That comes to my mind:
One unforgettable, bittersweet autumn...
My mouth, my lips now parted,
My stare, undirected,
Dreaming~~~drifting...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just arrived in Neverlandia!
Swimming through its endless,
Imaginary, intangible seas
Where I am alone
Where I am free
Free, to be with
My intangible one true love
Only there can we hold hands
Only there can our eyes meet
There, where we can stand,
Or sit so close
Breath against breath
Flesh against flesh
No words spoken,
Just eyes talking
No moment wasted,
For no one dare ask or tell the time
In Neverlandia.
~~~~~~~~~~
In such a wondrous journey
I also have acceped:
At the start and even in its midst,
Comes twinges of apprehension
And sadness
That unsettles my heart, my mind,
Thinking outrightly of the
Inevitable end of said journey.
Fleeting, the moments seem,
I must travel back.
~~~~~~~~~~
I ***** for that imaginary switch, and
With a heavy heart,
I turn it off.
~~~~~~~~~~
It is suddenly so cold...
I stretch an arm to reach for
My hot, steaming drink...
Oh, but it has become
A mug of cold, cold coffee!
I border on "mad,"
Lost thoughts now swimming in anger.
Have to chase back my muse,
Refresh my memory
Poem is almost done.
Have to regain
My mind's composure,
Have to ensure
My life's composure.
I need, I need my Panacea
This early morning... yet, I'm
Afraid of that same old question:
"But....where are you?"
~~~~~~~~~~
Sally
Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 2:23 AM UTC
Quit depicting yourself as the artist when you should be the one on the canvas.
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 1:14 PM UTC
I'm from the non-stop ticking of an active heart,
from Kleenex and star-gazing.
I'm from the crispness of fall on your tongue,
the old crab-apple tree, the wild growing lilacs.
I'm from twirling like dervishes and always running late,
from sweets and generality to now or never.
I'm from internalizing and erasing my words,
from being an oak tree in the storm and soaping my hands before washing them.
I'm from mile-high arches.
I'm from the coasts and the heartland, the old people and the new,
from spaetzle and goolash,
from never learning enough and right timing,
from the way a smile can light a room,
from the silent sound of a soul leaving its body.
I'm from musky basements and cabinets,
from dusty old books and torn old pages,
from sentiment as precious as a thousand years,
as rare as the sunset of yesterday.
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 11:35 PM UTC
In Pakistan
The CIA has bombed bombs funerals in Pakistan
I heard in this interview
Yes this nation sometimes kills the innocent
But that is nothing new
The Pakistani government cooperates
With the drone strikes
The UN investigation is being stalled by our government
This high ranking U.S. official said,
"We are the only country that thinks
We can use drones wherever we want,
Outside of a hot battlefield."
U.S. citizens are told the strikes are lawful
Our courts are being blocked from
Weighing in on the issue
They have had hardly any impact on the Taliban
According to the state department
Al Qaeda is 10 times stronger in Yemen today
Than when the drone program was started
According to the expert
Tactically they can be successful
Strategically we too often don't know what
We are doing with them
Often the operators
Are traumatized by what they experience
3 or 4 year stints with no down time
The operators were internalizing their experiences
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
A traveler once came to me to tell me where he'd been
But every word that left his tongue would land upon my skin
Internalizing what I did had not left any space
And so the pressure climbing on just settled on my face
Expressions changing all too fast I started losing ground
Collecting only ***** air that morphed into a sound
And when I opened up my mouth it made its way inside
A deafening cacophony was crashing like a tide
The flood I felt was something like a temporary rest
Accumulated over time I couldn't seem to test
And then I knew, I understood the purpose driven fall
The plan my shaking hands had drawn was bowing to the call
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 10:10 PM UTC
We gathered, like we were in a huddle
Doing Yin and Yang movements in a circle...
A lighted candle was in the middle.
We closed our eyes, we were concentrating,
Slowly, internalizing...
Stillform Shibashi movements followed
While thanksgiving prayers were solemnly offered...
Out of nowhere,
Two furry, roundish creatures leapt from behind
On the red-yellow flame they almost landed...
Both stretched...and ****** and stretched,
As if they were doing the movements with us...
Suddenly, they were up and about...
One was raring to have fun, while
The other could not focus on cleaning its tiny snout.
On a gay mood, they went on rolling within our big circle
Not minding they could be burned by the gentle flame.
We, the quiet ones,with a bit of fear,
Were just watching,
Captured by their honest fun,
Exercises started fading...
Back and forth, the two creatures went romping
Hitting the feet of most everyone in the circle...
They were seizing their moment
Overflowing was their adrenaline
In the open air, they were reckless, uncaring..
Under the morning sun, they were shining brightly
I had silently asked, at first,
"Who would need one black and one white mittens?
"Who would have thought, with their tiny heads hidden,
They were two furry, purry playful kittens?
Sally
Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 3:04 AM UTC
I have this really bad habit of not getting angry.
I don't allow myself to.
I shut down all human emotions.
Like when a friend treats me like a backup plan, a just-in-case friend,
I just shut down.
I begin yelling at myself in the mirror, imagining that it's my friend I'm looking at and not me and really if they were here there'd be no problem,
but before I get done with the first sentence,
I stop.
Breathe.
Feel nothing again.
Maybe it's because I think so little of myself.
Even expressing negative reactions toward a friend makes me less of a person and a super ****** friend.
Maybe, I've always lined up with my friend's favorite person in believing
"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."
Because if they try,
I get back at them by not feeling at all.
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 10:52 PM UTC
I grab hold of the morning
And my head is still churning
Internalizing all last nights decisions
Dividing facts from visions
The lights flicker
I remember all the liquor
My stomach begins to turn
I feel my eyes burn
I see last nights dinner
And I'm feeling a bit thinner
I stumble into the kitchen
I hear my consciousness ********
Everything seems so hazy
Hoping i didn't do anything crazy
Found my phone in the sink
It rang 32 times and i didn't even miss a wink
I check my voice mail
Its from Jared, something about the holy grail
I ignore it and chug some orange juice
I start feeling less loose
Living life at the bottom of the bottle
Telling myself I'm living "full throttle"
Trying not to see the dead drop ahead
I go back to bed
Sleep away last night
And await the next delight.
Dec 11, 2011
Dec 11, 2011 at 5:29 PM UTC
I plumped down sinking back first into the middle of the cushion.
Resting my arms behind my head.
Thoughts of spending the rest of my life here crossed my mind.
Now drifting off in thought.
I watched the sun drift off into the horizon.
Peering through half closed curtains. The inside of her eyes.
I always wondered what things looked like from here.
A beautiful thing, the clouds engulfed by one another.
Patiently laying there, feet spread apart. Wider than my shoulders.
The fear of drowning never crossed my mind, Sailing so far from I originally docked myself.
The closest I've ever came to setting sail before this moment was dangling my feet from the pier.
Hanging from the edge of her eyebrows.
By far one of the best memories happening before my eyes.
I loved how this felt. Surrounded in total comfort.
Embraced by nothing except cushion.
I sunk deep. My outer face cradled by cushion.
Watching the current of clouds ripple across the sky.
Snuggling my head deeper into the cushion.
Internalizing the thought of spending the rest of my life here.
Laying on the cushion of her heart.
Viewing the world through her eyes
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 2:49 PM UTC
turning someone else's pain
into our poetry
is a crime we're all guilty of
putting ourselves in their shoes
just to be able to recreate their distress
on paper
momentarily,
just to feel something
to be able to write
to connect with the words we type
we're empty inside
we've been ****** dry
exhausted our pain
completely drained
with all our worries having drenched the paper
too many times before- flooded.
we turn to someone else
internalizing their woes
stealing their sorrows
so that we have something worth writing about
we need to write
it is vital for our survival
so we turn to victims of hurt
of abuse, of loss, of misery
we turn to you
we are
bloodthirsty; savages
pain is our medicine
it's what keeps us alive
i suppose it's a good thing
that there's enough to go around
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 4:25 AM UTC
Unbolt this cursed door. I say,
Unchain this changing lock.
Take the mirrors from the Window -
I think I can fill that spot
Between your lines of Paradise -
Within the ripples of the pond,
To depths - I dream - to reach,
Create Internalizing bonds
Between the one I used to be
And what he may become
Laced together presently -
Three (or four) turn One.
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 10:39 PM UTC
Well, I've come up with my diagnosis,
And I believe that you are infected.
Yes, indeed, it's a parasite, in fact,
But don't you worry. It can be dealt with.
Unfortunately, it cannot be cured.
Do you perhaps remember feeling
That you could do anything as a child?
Do you remember internalizing
The confidence and power that youth brought?
Do recall those sensations?
I can predict the rest. Someone stopped you,
Told you to think realistically.
Put you down, causing you to doubt yourself.
Doubt. That is what you are infected with.
And as of then, it has been part of you.
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 6:02 PM UTC
the hurt hurt hurt please make it stop i cant breathe anymore i wanted to call you at one fifteen this morning when i wanted to die but i knew you would just hang up or tell me to **** off so i texted him god knows why i choose him he helped some but ten minutes later i was worse and worse and im internalizing everything and im going to explode god i want to die last night i drew up five separate plans for suicide im not sure which i want to try this time but im so done with hurting my breakdowns and panic attacks are more frequent and i dont know when it was last this bad and im scared i cant compete with all the things dragging me down i dont know how to get back up and im scared so scared i want to **** myself but i cant but i might but i dont know anything i want to run away from everything but everything always follows me and i dont know how to stop the cold blood that somehow keeps pumping though my heart has stopped i feel like the dry leaves in the fall no matter what you try to do what i try to do i end up in more pieces so much so that you cant recognize me or put me back together yeah i feel like that nothing and everything and too many and im so alone empty gone gone gone make the pain stop i beg of myself but ive always been such a *********
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 10:46 AM UTC
i can't eclipse these shadows that creep from my skin,
they grow too big and too fast and i can’t keep them in.
but i find my crimson concentration of bliss,
where my prism cast dreams kiss my depleting darkness
and take it to bed to go to sleep.
see the edge is a gasp of air and yet a painful release,
but i think it is still better than the curve of the earth having already left my feet.
so take my faded late night crimes,
and fresh red pen underlines,
forgive me for internalizing,
and thank me for staying.
Apr 25, 2021
Apr 25, 2021 at 5:36 AM UTC