"introverts" poems
there is a scene
where the wind cant be kept from the ocean
and introverts
are sitting
they are fishing at the end of a moon
lit
and artificially lit
pier
the only thing they have caught so far
is a banjo shark
and
they blamed each other
i am out there with them
i am reading a book about humanity
contemplating hope
and simplicity
where there is a world
that people pick a book off
their shelves
and say
it's yours!
or pull out a drawer full of pens
and say
take your pick.
there are places
where people are nice.
there is hope
in the tiniest glimmer of light.
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 8:04 AM UTC
Stillness within tranquil,
Movements within clamour;
In mixture she stood there,
Introvert she names.
Gazing and perceiving,
Simply fascinating;
But residing in her world,
was nothing but hollow.
Catching her insight,
Diverting towards him;
telling herself,
that she never matters.
Self-pity, she would say,
But I say strength;
Pathetic, she labelled,
Thou I say brave.
She was simply a girl,
Malicious was an unknown;
Through dawn and dusk,
She became a title.
A title she called,
The Introverts.
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
being introverted actually has nothing to do with drinking tea or reading a lot
all it is? being cooler with small groups of people than large.
where the heck did people start thinking introverts were these glorified
manic pixie dream girls that lounge around all day writing poetry and drinking tea and feeling lonely?
i don't know. maybe i'm dumb or pretentious, but to me, being introverted has nothing to do with tea.
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
We were two introverts
surrounded by an infestation
of the dipsomania and delight.
Ingested by white noise,
flashing lights
and sin,
we stood sheltered behind conservatism
and our cocktails.
This technophonic cave
was crammed with lascivious men
modeling their lavish kicks and threads
in pursuit of non-commitment.
With our backs pressed firmly
against our salutary wall,
we felt inviolable.
But then, you turned to me.
Your chandelier earrings exploded
the luminescence and trepidation
into a million particles,
and through the deafening roar
of pandemonium and decadence,
you offered a wink and said,
“Let’s dance.”
Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 4:11 AM UTC
There is nothing better,
Nor truer or safer,
Than somewhere where no one is odd
We're all the same here,
Extroverts and introverts alike
United in force and a thousand strong,
We all sing the same lyrics,
Scream over the same shredding guitars,
And dance to the same drum
Boom. Boom. Boom.
I'm home.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 6:21 AM UTC
Sad, quiet, oddball, rude?
Maybe has a bad attitude?
Narcissist, egotistical, self-absorbed?
Or maybe just unexplored?
All introverted stereotypes, people don't understand how we live life.
Not antisocial, we hang with friends.
We just need a break, once the night ends.
Narcissistic? Now watch yourself.
We just can't handle too much, it effects mental health.
Introverts are special too.
Even though, they might be a little different than you.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 7:28 PM UTC
I feel the heat and irregular heartbeat wash over me. The widen of my eyes and my bodies surprise at something that feel so good makes me so low. You lift me up and make me lower than a dog in a ditch. I come back for your addiction, and cuddle the affliction. I skip around the room on you, ignoring my impending doom. Making friends with the sober introverts in the room. You embarrass me, but my veins and blood are too blind to see, and my voice too scared to speak. Inhaling you slowly, with my eyes closed in pleasure only a woman truly embracing her demons can feel. You're what's real, you're all I feel. My heel. And as I start to come down looking for a card or razor I remember that I'm a ******* mess in a ***** dress, nothing more than a hidden bore with an addict's appeal
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 10:25 PM UTC
Family members crowd around
I try to dodge the questions
How is school
How is dance
How is the harp
I don't want to talk
I just grab some food
And run away
From the noise
The questions
The lack of space
Or I would
But my mom won't let me
Even the King of the World
The Lord of Lords
The one who we celebrate
This time of year
Came as a baby
In a stable
ALONE
In the middle of
Nowhere, Israel
(Okay, Bethlehem
But still)
Can't I just catch a break?
No?
Oh well.
At least there are cookies.
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 2:34 PM UTC
the nights you call lonely
are the nights i spend
reading and writing and drawing
and loving my own company
i enjoy dreaming of possibilities
and laying in complete silence
you see, my mind is so loud
louder than the party you're at tonight
and for me that is enough
i balance it out by being quiet,
by producing shambles of poetry
and endless jumbles of words
to try and understand
that it is okay to love the silence
and the mystery of who i am
you find yourself in bright lights
and loud music
i find myself in the dark
we have been afraid of our whole lives
it is the darkness and the silence
that make you so scared of us
but we are simply introverts
trying to fit into a world made for you
while you are dancing your heart out
ours are pounding in pride
as we proofread our writing for the 100th time
your open arms and our open minds
embrace in harmony
you see, i started writing us instead of me
because i know i am not alone
on these nights you call lonely
i call lovely
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 9:05 AM UTC
Rhyming Review - Sorry I'm Late, I Didn't Want to Come by Jessica Pan
Introverts unite
(separately, of course),
This book is for you,
Jessica Pan is your force
For a year she denied
Her introverted tendencies
She e-dated for friends
Gave up shy dependencies
She tried stand up comedy
She spoke at the Moth
She signed up for improv
Things that make shy ppl froth
Her anxieties could have come
Straight out of my own head
You could try extroverting
Or watch Jessica try it instead
You will learn new tricks
While you frown and cringe
Or snicker sympathetically
Through your reading binge
Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 3:22 PM UTC
For the first time ever; I truly do not care
if you, him, or her wished me a happy birthday;
But, I wouldn’t mind if you did. Though it is fair;
I am one of the lesser friends; I am a boring play;
A play so fake; I am of made up characters,
Sometimes I am the flattering villain in smiles,
And at times I am a copy of the Westerners,
At others, I am gullible, yet I never am;
I pretend to be; but I am miles away,
For interesting I am not; so funny at least be,
Says my brain; for maybe they will remember,
That my birthday was today; It is an endless plea:
I always remember and prepare pages of wishes,
For almost everyone, but all I get is 4 days late
One liners sent out of guilt; to stop the guilty itches,
Not out of care, love, or from genuine friendly state;
I deserve it; for again; I am merely a boring play;
A paradoxical headache of weird introverts,
And annoying extroverts; I barely even weigh,
To a normal person; I am made of endless alerts;
Alerted, focused, attentive; all on your acceptance;
I am what I feel you want me to be; a nice man,
A racist gangster, a diplomatic figure; I am resemblance,
I resemble everything I see in you and scan;
I am stardust that was never meant to shine,
I am a thread; intertwined as I feel pleases,
I am a road with temporary signs; I am grapes;
For you I squeeze myself into juice; or ferment
Into wine; I am a fake play where you write scripts,
I submit, because all I cared about is receiving,
A birthday wish. On that one day in the entire year;
I do not want even want gifts; because when you don't,
I feel like I am ceasing to exist; slowly deceasing
from everything that we were: teenagers ambitious,
WhatsApp stickers collectors, School runaways,
Kids deceiving; it feels like I am dead; for the dead
Do not receive birthday wishes; I feel peerless;
A white beans *** lidless, a body complete limbless,
A walking sickness, a moving flesh in stillness,
unpardoned by my faux and obvious silliness.
I do not care about not getting birthday wishes;
But I cannot not overthink what it means.
Nov 22, 2023
Nov 22, 2023 at 4:25 PM UTC
Actually feeling like death is better,
Better than letting her borrow my sweater,
Cold but she needs the warmth more and pleasure,
Doesn’t come easy when we’re talking Heather,
Endlessly flowing love has nowhere to go,
Fire and water that will burn and will flow,
Getting pain and repose all in one blow,
How do you regulate love? no one knows,
Infidelity fills the atmosphere,
Just like how the mug and all of your beer,
Kills you over time quickly drawing you near,
Little voices, the insanity premier,
More drugs to drown the drastic discomfort,
No way you know how much I have suffered,
Open the blinds but keep emotions covered,
Painfully black and white out the colors of,
Quirky emotions that fall off the shelf,
Remind yourself that nobody can help,
So you end up understanding that the self,
Tortures you and you can’t blame anyone else,
Under pressure and stress twenty-four seven,
Violence seeping out pores till’ I’m deafened,
Woke-wise so I won’t make it to heaven,
Xenophobe so no change cause depression,
Yields surprising results in the face of,
Zipped up introverts in the place of poets.
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 3:02 PM UTC
Some men want to be women,
And some women want to be men.
(Though some have no choice).
Brown girls want to be white,
But pale girls yen for a tan.
Short folk want to be tall,
Yet tall people wish they were short.
Atheists would love to believe,
But Believers yearn for freedom from guilt.
Introverts try to be outgoing,
While Extroverts try to calm down (and be quiet).
So why can’t each one of us
Esteem him or herself
For whatever s\he IS?
Be Proud of Yourself, as you are.
Grasp that Happy Attitude with a smile.
Amen.
Paul Butters
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 4:53 AM UTC
It's astonishing how difficult I find it to transform my thoughts into ink these days
I don't know how to say it
I guess I never have
Maybe my emotions were conceived this way
To be introverts
To hide in the cave
Where it's nice and warm
I do think about you often
morning midday midnight
Almost as much is the fine grains of sea sand at the shore
Often as my heart softens
I sometimes wonder whether this tortoise computer is a blessing in disguise
Because in the interim as I wait for her while she toils to open a file
I get pirated somewhere in the horizon of your aquarium horizon eyes
Hark, for in that interim
I'm lost in your sweet alloy love
Here in your Turquoise Horizon eyes.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 7:24 PM UTC
FLAMES from furious friends fighting ferocious fears, forever forging faithful fellowship.
INCESSANTLY incinerating iniquity in inner-selves. Ineffably influencing introspective introverts.
RISING rapidly.
radically rupturing rectitude rampantly, ravaging rancour.
ENDLESSLY eclipsing earthly ecstacy.
Eliciting elation.
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
Social introverts and a shy extroverts.
Dyslectics grading better in spelling.
Deaf children who know more words.
People with anxiety better at selling.
Kids with ADHD who are more calm.
Autistics who can relate better.
Paralysed people able to feel their palm.
A blind person ready to read every letter.
Who could guess their equality.
Could you imagine, you can't tell 'em appart?
Who could even think of such a society.
Just look at this, humanity's piece of art!
Who could imagine I'm one of ''them''.
One alike you and the rest of this place.
For we all are a different kind of gem.
All shining in our own simple grace.
If there's a ''them'' and there's an ''us''.
But none can tell one from another.
Is there a ''them'' at all, thus.
Then why a ''them'', it's only a bother.
Aug 6, 2019
Aug 6, 2019 at 7:07 PM UTC
How does it feel to lose yourself,
To feel yourself oozing through your pores and pouring into a shell?
These restless nights are deviously common,
My eyes have gone dry, no more bawling.
I lay here and wonder how did I miss the dead end,
Why did I sprint so purposely with no message to send?
These days you feel ashamed of the right, proud of the wrong.
My thoughts race, there's no time to process them,
I don't think they belong..
I swear I try my hardest to make you all proud,
I gave up, it's hard when you feel all alone in a crowd.
These people don't deserve me, you, us.
You and I confide in them and they ruin our non-resilient trust.
When you're alone, who's there to disappointment and vice versa?
Who's there to make you feel small and destroy ya?
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 5:01 AM UTC
Invisibility is a lonely place.
Quiet, peaceful, but empty.
There are others here, too.
But we're to afraid to speak.
for fear our voices will shatter glass of silence
that shields us from the rest of the world.
A desire rests deep in our hands
to strike the pane, color our knuckles with something
as real as blood and pain.
To see life in liquid form,
coursing down our pale skin,
grasp a hand from the other side
to be lost in deep words
with a like minded companion.
Traipsing down the deer trails of thought
while the leaves of dreams
fall at our feet.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 2:30 PM UTC
Cats are like introverts,
emotional and withdrawn rather rude and curt.
Dogs are like extroverts,
crazy and mischievous, laughing through their hurt.
They both are the same, underneath the masks they wear,
trying to keep others from knowing their cares.
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 12:52 AM UTC
These people...they're obsessive. Hoarders of memorabilia associating success with handshakes, photographs and play-dates. I'm surrounded by squiggly lines vandalizing art and silhouettes of super-heated sand granules encasing a substance so vile that it permanently damages the frontal lobe of the collective consciousness. Inspirations float helplessly about the sea of underachievers and people-pleasers. What is success? Is it simply to impress the people around you? To instill envy upon your enemy? I won't even begin to dissect the differences. I can't even begin to protect the witnesses. The costumes are insignificant. The same tired, scared, eyes stare blankly at themselves from behind every mask. The ladder needs some broken rungs. The bladder bleeds; soaked in *** People milling about, spilling their sins. Reaching out sure looks a lot like clawing, and what is the difference between pleading and begging? May it be the same difference between dancing and squirming? No matter what we do, we all feel unworthy. So, I guess all that's left is: Learning. Teaching, not preaching. Boy, this place sure is unnerving. A shuffling mass of introverts sent into a downward spiraling life of discomfort, soon to be snuffed out with possessions. The empathy for the undead is utterly apparent, and arguably, inherent. Looking for answers in dusty pages and plastic heroes. Punks, Drunks, Nerds, ***** Women with bright hair and crooked teeth. Men replacing the hair they've lost on their heads with that which sprouts from their chins. I need a drink, I think. But in actuality what I need is a warm bed and a couple centuries of sleep.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 2:15 AM UTC
If there's a way to dig a little deeper into
a new layer of skin, tap into
something in our bones that hasn't already
been analyzed and speculated by
doctors under bright white lights on cold
impersonal tables surrounded by
an army of masked, gloved and
sanitary conscious individuals-
a method of existing that hasn't
been romanticized and isn't cliche,
I'd really like to know.
Because in vicious turbulent cycles I'm falling head first
for things that have been worshipped
so many times in trance-like
moments of adolescent anguish and
pretenses of solitude seeking introverts that lie
to themselves cause they don't have
the guts to do it to others.
Who the hell is alright behind a smile masking a cringe?
And all the tropes idolized and hymns
murmured by Sad folk
don't really make you feel special anymore
cause you've lost your individuality
by stepping into yet another trap.
But then again hating all things has long ago been branded as
valueless, when in fact
values are the only things you're really searching for.
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 5:58 PM UTC
When you are sitting with
beautiful people, and
you still feel sad,
does that say a thing about you?
Well, if you're asking me,
I don't want to be nervous anymore.
Maybe I can't tell my friends
that I'm happy because
last week I found myself covered in mud
and still didn't feel as *****
as the days I found myself
still trying to wash
your fingerprints off.
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 9:11 AM UTC