They are my first attempts at poetry (I am, predominantly, a prose writer), so don't expect them to be flabbergastingly amazing. In any case, these are the poems I wrote:
Remnants of a Dead Past
Old newsreels churn out the forgotten figments of a dead past.
Memories long gone,
In the abandoned theatre.
Latent truths about our present are terminated.
The soot and cobwebs cake the room.
Endlessly repeated images
Lead to nothing.
Remnants of a dead past linger like a dream
in the vintage storerooms of our archaic minds.
Are buried within the depths of our memories.
The key to our existence
Memories erupt out of the constraints of the present.
Contradicting times encapsulated into the smallest of containers raise a standstill:
Order is assembled.
Chaos has crumbled.
Dancing To A Forgotten Dream
Remembrance erodes down to the pit.
Forgotten dreams enigmatically replay in the hidden depths of the mind.
Fragments cling to the surface.
But the overall picture is obliterated.
Overwhelming exhilaration for the faded sensations paves its way through onto waking life.
This manifests itself through movement:
Dancing to a forgotten dream.
The yearning to go back to that previous moment where all time is fractured.
Previous experiences latticed onto one whole.
Contrasting emotions clash against one another.
Free-flowing movement amidst the constraints of consciousness.
Two worlds collide.
College is shit. It's exactly like the time when I was at Norton college doing a first diploma course: I am the most invisible, insignificant person there. I thought that I'd find like-minded individuals now that I'm doing A-levels, but all the people are boring fucking cunts. I hate people who are the same age as me. I spend all my breaks at the library. I don't know how I'm going to withstand this for two whole years.