Poems of a youth

Hazed Days

2008 - 2011

Quoter

A survey of reflection 'Who did you use to be, and what were you like?' 

Looking into nostalgia, a self analyzation, looking into mind stories.

Asking 50 people 16 questions; gathering links and understanding others perspectives of youth. What does it feel like to feel everything?

Adjectives of 11 - Optimistic, Happy, Confused, Awkward, Naive, Isolated.

Adjectives of 16 - Obnoxious, Unsure, Naive, Embarrassed, Depressed, Tired, Insecure, Cynical.

 What did it feel like to be a teenager between 11-16?

Confusing, stuck, lost, roller coster, alone, "a sad realisation", hopeless, free, "like a fizzed up coke bottle", a whirlwind, "you live in the present. and you're not very self-aware.", "Stress and confusing at times. But also a lot of fun.", "Amazing and carefree", "it feels safe, like it's okay to be doing things because you can blame it on your age.", "completely overwhelming"

other issues "my parents divorce", "sexuality", "drugs", "race", "family issues", "self harm", "friendships"

"lot of things I didn't do because I was afraid of repercussions, fear instilled in youths, made to be beyond their years"

"A great period of life where people can start to discover who they are as a person and form lifetime relationships with people."

"innocence is bliss"

"I regret, I should have worked harder"

"it's a learning curve"

"It was amazing, It was insane, it was beautiful"

"We felt like we could fly"

"It's fucking great - cherish it will it lasts because one day we are going to have responsibilities that will force us to become less self indulgent"

I"t's a learning process, and it's a relief to finally find that so many people actually share the same emotions during those periods of time however at the time you feel so alone."

Summer nights

2012

George Byron - The Dream

Our life is twofold; Sleep hath its own world,
A boundary between the things misnamed

And a wide realm of wild reality,
Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world,

And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy;
And dreams in their development have breath,
They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts,

A portion of ourselves as of our time,
They take a weight from off waking toils,
They do divide our being; they become
And look like heralds of eternity;

They make us what we were not—what they will,
They pass like spirits of the past—they speak
Like sibyls of the future; they have power— 
The tyranny of pleasure and of pain;

Creations of the mind?—The mind can make
And shake us with the vision that's gone by,
The dread of vanished shadows—Are they so?
Is not the past all shadow?—What are they?
Substances, and people planets of its own

Perchance in sleep—for in itself a thought,
With beings brighter than have been, and give
A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.

I would recall a vision which I dreamed
A slumbering thought, is capable of years,

And curdles a long life into one hour.

Summer days

2010-2012

Why Youth?

I was yellow then, but I'm blue now.

I miss the person I used to be, but I think now I may be happier.

Exploring a timeline of youth, the meandering path of emotion and rationality of thought. A collection of experiences and moments that change a person mentally. A tousled time of unbalanced freedom; creatures of the wild tip-toeing around the edge of the nest.

Everyone has experienced this confusing period, feeling asymmetrically unsure, completely alone and awkwardly existing. 

Is innocence bliss or is the idea of an unknown future toxic to thought?

Not knowing that things can or will ever change, experiencing the impermanence of time and the inability to retrospectively review situations.  

We sit on a gypsy carousel, jolted, awkward and uneven, getting thrown into characters of depression, sexualisation, anxiety, appearance all spinning around, wonkily showing up now and then, hypnotising our equilibrium.

Ours is the social media generation, sitting on Staples office chairs, logging in to AOL and MSN messenger under (coolgirl101@msn.com). The new-gem of un-escapists with 24/7 contact, their superpower; the inability to disconnect 

New identities were formed, and we knew everyones every move, who likes who.

Those private messages, the ability to say what ever you wanted to without immediate backlash. We tried to obtained a careful footing of pulling the plug when it all got to much. But to many times lost our step.

13 year olds had fingertip access and thoughts without consequence. We then contemplated how we display ourselves to our 1000+ ‘friends’ by kitchen photoshoots and experimenting with mummies makeup. Like for like profile pictures and live coverage of “Hannah's birthday 2k10 L0ll”

Nobody quite understood the ‘power’ these machines held, the internet can be dark if you look hard enough and we swam so deep. uncovering infinite scrolling blogs of black and white images, dying truths and poetic wounds. Whispering untold tales that  never should have brushed our ears. We began cutting into our minds by sparkling, spinning and sparking, a wide-eyed muted exploration, jumping in puddles and becoming knee-deep in doubt discovering the world unsheltered and finding lemons in every bite.

Loves young dream came quickly by of pecks at school discos and holding hands under the clock, fuzzy and fluttering, gaining another half on Bebo but being to scared to text first. Teenage heart break came quicker when the world ended and time stopped. Being constantly winded in the stomach and all the air drained from your lungs. Knotted murmurs and retching remarks, sobbing in the shower and crying off Claire’s accessories mascara; 

thinking the pain would never end. The Notebook was watched at least 5 time’s whilst curling up in knitted blankets, eating Fumps and Galaxy hot chocolate.

Establishing differences then seeing ourselves differently, growing up into separation. 

I gained an education, where I gave my brain to boredom and my hands to the mundane, tapping pencils to burn 2 cals a minute or hide and seek with the dinner ladies. Dizzily dancing my way though months of sameness with the sensation of bicarbonate of soda fizzing on my flesh. A time of Isolation and irrelevance where everything becomes so overwhelming that we collapse under the weight of our own thought. 

With all my pocket money I spent time on looking out of windows, contemplating impossible situations: things i’d say, songs i’d sing and and people i’d meet. Wishing away the most golden glittering precious moments. A childhood wanting the days gone; now reminiscing and nostalgically immortalising our youth. 

Washed over by extreme tides that grew in gardens with pateo heaters and wooden green houses. We’ve all laid in the bluer shades but were overlaid by the golden green fields and holding hands when rushing in the meadows.The time-lapse between pending adulthood where everything is so heightened and confusing, communication is restricted so you feel so alone. Learning scars come with silence, reliving seeing everyone feels the same as you did, that dock leaves still cure nettle stings, and time can change universes.