I feel cooped up with silly string in my hair.
I think introverts are an astral projection.
Winter is a balled up stocking.
Even with silly string strung up in me.
I take a crack at the astral plane under my bed.
I feel slobbered on when I order pizza for myself.
I feel cooped up with a few of these friends.
Attached like a bottle cap.
Popped it off and poured that old “how are you?” out onto the floor.
Being an introvert and my mind is unsound.
It’s like the mattress tag says something crazy but no one would read it anyway.
I talk with my left tooth splayed out.
I think introverts are an astral projection of extroverts.
We are only real because we are each other’s carpet fibers in the same crime scene.
Or maybe I’m just some awkward friend who dropped the last chicken wing and you hated me forever.
Me and the wall
Like an imaginary friend when we were a child.
My thoughts bounce off the wall and then get filed.
Mrs. Beasley, Shilo, and Winnie the Pooh.
No matter what you said, they believed it was true.
My wall let's me figure it out with me and God.
And it's funny, but I never end up feeling odd.
And as I sit here amidst all the reflections.
Somewhere inside I'm ok with the recollections.
Having thoughts that no one else interrupts.
Allows time and space where nothing corrupts.
And in the process of sorting through the muck.
Insight and common sense prevails with any luck.
Introverts and extroverts and everything between.
Hopefully, you mean what you say, when you say what you mean.
Cause when this world get's it's way and in your head.
Sometimes, come what may, it's their thoughts instead.
So, hello old friend, it's you and me till the end.
We've travelled many avenues and around the bend.
Somehow I'm ok with the way things turned out.
Reflective perspective has removed most of the doubt.
Internet
has woven the world into a tangle of introverts
made us think that our fellow man
is a slow-minded, dangerous dullard
Internet
and mankind do have one thing in common
in that they're bipolar entities,
in the wink of the mind or a tap of the key
they're capable of love and rage
painfulness and joyfulness
peaceful contemplation
or mindless devastation
Man's
soul is devolving into a dead blue seed
in the metal garden of the devolving machine.
Cupid a.k.a Amor
is considered armed and dangerous
so shield your heart
against his aphrodisiacal ‘dart.’
Wear a bullet proof vest
to protect your chest!
Cupid is a notorious sharpshooter
who can hit his targets
far and wide
so you can't run and hide.
His semi automatic
makes each shot ecstatic.
Cupid is wanted
for assault with a deedly weapon
and for inciting love
so be on the lookout for a cherub with wings
and know that his match making skills
give even introverts the chills.
She had found sanctuary in those pages
And He had found heaven in her palms.
Yet introverts they were,
To unknown destinies were they bound.
Her thoughts would spiral into words,
Delicate whispers coaxing the ground.
He wouldn't be the only witness
To the serenity of her musings,
For icor is revered by everything around.
Life goes quickly growing up from the use of a commodore 65.
Perforated print paper
Really takes your energy.
Fold and Tear!
Fold and Tear!
Every so often the edges
With the holes placed every millimeter amuse me for atleast five minutes.
Jump to ten years later as I sign up for my first email through AOL.
Still my main for sure contact or solid way for anyone to reach me, I stand firm in its support.
Life trickles down into o the earth’s core where warmth and safety from the information super highway can be found.
Wait, so what happens if polarity introverts?
Oh the earth shoots a bunny
In the world of introverts and extroverts, she is unknown
She adapts herself with the person she attaches to
Is this a real place for her to be grown
Or just a mere illusion, still to be known.
Is being an introvert glorified to know the inner-self
Or an extrovert connects to the world nicely
But what if she doesn't know who she is herself
Writing this poetry to express her feelings precisely.
under the sky, there is a teenage guy
lots of problems, facing with the smile
pressure on the head, future is ahead
best becomes strange, strange becomes best
no one understands, taking as a grant
lost inner child, personality becomes wild
living in own world, they call us introverts
have trust in others, lost trust in loved ones
some say selfish, some say mean
it is okay we are in teen
age of being lost, age of being developed
at the same age facing the dual stage
life turns up
holding pencils to cigarettes
drinking juices to alcohol
talking sweet turns to
broken hearts , fear of love
life of a teenager, an unintelligible
FIRST - ACT I
stragglers,
mad of
pandemic...
introverts,
suffocated and
masked...
we livef
our neuroses
paralyzing...
no antidotes
no shelters...
only poetry in us
comforts like hypnosis
the body and soul
in symbiosis...
1/
Sounding too easy
And too dangerous!
What by one leap of faith
Was proven; that's all.
'To live free is to live up
To one's potential'.
Self talk, encouraged
A world of doubt, by.
And a fear-world's. Your worst foe!
Friend, play deaf to it.
This air, so denied of, is
Death to one's spirit.
2/
As night succumbs to its fate
Heart, re-born, the day is come
To sing of your own in
A changeable faced world's bright,
Benevolent turning.
Fear alone made it ugly!
Now this ghoulishness has cleared.
With that fog of despair.
Ere looms as a haunting thought
Forgot as a nightmare.
"Beware falling in love with a poet"
Those who know
They are inaudible for others
When they meet they see themselves in each other
The" old kid " from fear he's not free
What does she think of me ?!
Maybe I am not fun as seen
People who write: professional overthinkers
sometimes are mean
Fanatic introverts when they write or read
Indecent in their noisy silence; notions of grief.
I am just warning you of that me!
Maybe the ( so-called ) poet
Not romantic as seems
Boring filled with fear
When he tries to protect
His precious connections
With people he bleeds
He is not playing cool
He's Worried to lose the state
His intellectual thoughtful mate
So, he preferred to act the fool
Written by: #Ramy_Heggy
An introvert by birth,
I cannot talk for
I don't know what to talk.
I find nothing worthy of being talked.
Wanted to change myself...
Now I love my nature!
Most talkative persons are repetitive.
Talks can be misunderstood.
They can hurt emotions,
drain away lot of time and energy
24th September, 2021
Setting limits --
a wonderful idea
for small children
Limit their exposure to languages
One language is confusing enough
Limit their exposure to computers
They'll turn into anti-social introverts
Limit their exposure to the natural world
So much dirt and disease out there now
Limit their exposure to family finances
They'll have time for that later in life
Limit their exposure to fun and frivolity
Life is so serious these days
Limit their exposure to people different from them
They need to build a solid foundation first
And do not do what the Romans once did
Do not toss them on the side of a mountain
to see if they survive ~
Limit their exposure to sides of mountains...
Scattered, or joined
maddened by
pandemic...
Introverts,
suffocated and
masked ...
We experience
our paralyzers
neurosis...
Without antidotes
without shelters ...
only poetry comforts us
as in hypnosis
with body and soul
in symbiosis ... ...
long is the day
I went to bed at nine a bit early, but I was bored
fed up sitting in all day long, only punctuated going to the shops
where everyone wears a mask like they should be nurses
at mealtime.
People, in general, have stopped smiling no relaxing time
the distance between people deepens us more than physical
we are becoming strangers to one another.
A happy nation is becoming grumpy when waiting in line
at the pharmacy, a place of entertainment for the elderly.
Every TV station goes on about the coronavirus and which country
Leads in death numbers.
The USA has overtaken Italy on the fatality list, so it back to JB Fletcher
And old western movies.
We are becoming a nation of introverts. We are not Swedish
But Portuguese.
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