spoken word

song lyrics


poetry || photo || log


Our dreams and memories may lit up the dark grey sky from its hinges
But if we cannot withhold our hope of another heavenly scope from the power of disbelief
we will end up in a grief conducted by mischief too big for its bridges
We’re our own audience now, on the first row, watching sad clowns in search of hope
or a reason to live a life that is like a joke

Elements, brought together to shape a form
Of a life with a realm that’s out of the norms

Meanwhile thoughts are collecting dust on the shelves in the attic behind the bars of our eyelids
Memories built up from tears on your pillow to laughter under your covering
So many things that your bed brings; birth, love, and possibly your last breath
Remember, your memories will tell you the worth of what you have experienced
Simply because …if your experiences were worth something you’ll remember them

Memories, made by your future
Memories, a part of your history

The mirror watches a smile of yours only appearing when a memory makes you feel excited
Living a joy full life of lust, we’re making love with reality, in hope of finding a place to settle
Within the armour of rust, dust’s collecting dust, like memories of remembering memories
Living a lifetime collecting moments of appreciation, within the frames set up by your mind
Coming through, fragile, under the moonshine, eyes sparklingly watching like gold, at night...

Appreciate the colours in your life
before they leave you at night.

© Martin Ångnell 2010 - 2021