There are several old posts on this blog about music that I composed when I was younger. But as a teenager in the nineties I also composed some fragments that never became complete songs, and I’ve not yet blogged about those.
So here is a selection. The lyrics are brimming with teenage angst, and are also rich in words I thought of as inherently poetic at the time. If any of them inspire you, you’re welcome to adapt them in your own creative works. All I ask is that you let me know.
Most of the recordings below were made expressly for this blog post, and are not polished performances. Their purpose is simply to demonstrate the tune.
The first one is the chronologically oldest, and here is a tune I recorded some years ago, followed by lyrics:
What I feel is a kind of torture
Every moment reminds me of a thought that once occured
And I feel nothing less than torture
When I remember that the thought is too absurd.
I cannot justify the course this tension’s leading;
I wait unsatisfied, in pain and almost screaming.
Waiting for some release from torture
To release my mind, a thought that’s not absurd
And I feel nothing less than torture
When I remember that the thought has not occured.
The next fragment is intended to sound like some old folk song. It’s rich in metaphor and open to interpretation. [Update: I have replaced the recording with sheet music. In time I may do the same with the others.]
There is no place so distant as my only world;
There is no sound so faint as our most piercing scream.
What shall I build, here where a thousand stones are hurled,
And where the wind erodes away each worthless dream?
This one is about being abandoned by a valued friend. The second verse would have included the line, “And I’ll walk to infinity again today” (invoking a sense of aimlessness).
Every healing word I know is void;
Watching silence greet every desperate cry.
Everything we shared, everything we said;
Watching memories freeze as they pass me by.
A few years ago I wrote the above fragment into a story — as previously mentioned here — and also included this one.
How do I build from impossible stones —
Where’s the ground to hold them?
How do I walk from infinity home
After wandering there?
To finish, a fragment that is only one line long, but which I’ve always thought has potential for a pop song.
Unwelcome conclusion of a painful illusion.
I hope these brought you pleasure, and that they don’t evoke your current state of mind. But you have my sympathy if they do.
The Outer Hoard 
You are welcome to add your thoughts.