One Foot in the Grave

Shadow and Light

acmigliacci@gmail.com (Andréa C) — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 02:10:00 +0000

Sometimes it is too soon
Sometimes it is too late
Never the right time, never the right game
Sometimes it is too hard
Sometimes soft to the core
Never what you expect, never to the point at all
It will not improve with time
It will not change for better
It will, for sure, just make you loose your temper
You will never be good enough
You will never be right no matter what
You will be always judged by standers belonging only to Gods
It is time to think if is worth the effort
It is time to weight the matter
And finally left, leaving the shadows behind, for something better.
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Smoke

acmigliacci@gmail.com (Andréa C) — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 01:53:00 +0000

People will say is just smoke in your eyes. What you see is not there, it cannot be if you are the only one seeing it. People forget that one pair of eyes is not like another and what appears for you can hide for everybody else. It’s a mystery like many other things. I see things every day, everywhere, and people keeps telling me is just smoke, I smile and nod, because they don’t understand, that what is just smoke for then is already a fire for me. People call it a sixth sense, I call it my little voice, the one that tells me when to stop even if the light is green. Sometimes I look at people and see more than they show and I know its just smoke, but not for me. You can live your entire life doubting your instincts, but one day or another you need to surrender. I am old now and I don’t mind people telling me I am seeing just smoke, I do my part, I show the smock rising, but I can’t make others seeing more than fumes rising from nowhere.
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Wind

acmigliacci@gmail.com (Andréa C) — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 01:06:00 +0000

Every now and then the world changes. Sometimes is imperceptible, too subtle and we think it’s just a wind, but a wind that blown continually can bend trees and destroy roofs. I feel a wind, but I don’t know if it will tear us apart or herd us together. I hope for the best. I hope for the last. I don’t have much fate in mankind, but maybe, just maybe, this time we will do the right thing. The wind blown and the sky send us alarming messages. Are we doing our last ride in this planet? Are we finally made the earth so mad with our poor job at keeping it alive that we will be history before our time? I don’t know… I just feel the wind and wonder.
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acmigliacci@gmail.com (Andréa C) — Mon, 27 Jul 2009 02:01:00 +0000

Look over your shoulder before opening your door; you never know what will be lurking in the shadows waiting to steal your soul, your dreams, your life. In the shadows live the doubts and the thoughts that in day light we dismiss with a smile. In the shadows are our repressed desires waiting to collect the fee for stupid decision and lack of courage. It’s not monsters what you need to be afraid of, you need to run from thoughts never spoken, love never delivered, kind acts never put in action. The shadows are full of parts of you denied to live and they are hungry. So look over your shoulder before entering your home and shed a tear to placate the gods, maybe they shine a light and turn the shadows in nothing more than past.
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It

acmigliacci@gmail.com (Andréa C) — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 01:28:00 +0000

Every time I open my eyes it is there. Waiting me. Somehow staring at me. Making me wonder why I give it so much power. Way before the time it seems to mock me, to tease me, leaving me tired of this everlasting game. Every time, every day. My days begin and end with its orders, taking it with grudgingly respect. It knows when and I know what and it is difficult to argue with the power of this union, but nevertheless I am resentful of its power over me. I look again and it says is late, but I turn my back to it. It can click the minutes, ring the hours, sound the alarm, I don’t care.
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What to do

acmigliacci@gmail.com (Andréa C) — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 23:39:00 +0000

What would YOU do if it was with you? Sometimes is the one question we need to ask. It is always easy to judge others, a lot easier than judge yourself. We can find very hard to decide a matter when our lives depend on this very particular decision. It’s easy to give advices, we compromise nothing telling others how easy is to walk some way or another, if our advice, if followed, have a ill end, it’s not our lives, it’s not our problem. Oh, how easy is to tell others what to do, how nice to feel certain about solutions for big and small problems. Oh, how easy it is when is not with us. And that is way I always ask myself “What would I do if it was with me?
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Let me walk away

acmigliacci@gmail.com (Andréa C) — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 02:33:00 +0000

Give me a kiss and say good bye.
Don’t fight over what is done.
Don’t change your words for I will not believe.
Give me your blessing and let me fly.
Don’t try to make soft what was hard
Don’t promise more since you never before kept your word
Give me a moment and we will stay friends
Don’t try to make me feel guilt
Don’t soft problems that are bigger than you believe.
Give me peace
Don’t argue
Don’t be sad
In the end, everyone has learned some.
And the new beginning is full of promises.
For me anyway.
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Couting Down

acmigliacci@gmail.com (Andréa C) — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 01:38:00 +0000

I find difficult to believe in eternal love. We are not animals predestinated to be faithful and to be happy for a long time when the routine settles down. What I believe is that love is out there and you can feel it in various degrees, with a lot of people and sometimes, just sometimes, someone strikes the right string in your heart and the best times last longer. For this reason I don’t believe in suffering too much for love. No one died because of love or the lack of it, people die of stupidity though. We suffer enough; just enough for us to give that love its place in our history, the rest, the huge cries of pain and oceans of grieve are a theatrical show. We know everything is fated to be in the past. This minute is already in the past and this second didn’t last longer. What you need to count, to measure the love in your life is the moments when you said that word really meaning it. And doesn’t count when you say it to popcorn or George Clooney.
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The game

acmigliacci@gmail.com (Andréa C) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 02:15:00 +0000

Sometimes all it takes is some effort. Sometimes not. You can do your better and even so things went down, down, down. All you can do is try, not all depends on your actions, unfortunately, the ones around you need to be in the same line, wanting the same things, agreeing with the same issues, and that is not easy, my friend. Living is hard and complicate and no one told you that when you sign in for this life. Sometimes you win, sometimes you loose and sometimes you just quit the game and choose other players that can play the same way you do.
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Lady Sea

acmigliacci@gmail.com (Andréa C) — Wed, 20 May 2009 00:28:00 +0000

From the cliff all you can see is the sea, immense, inscrutable, and dangerous, but she loves it anyway. She lives in the house on top of the cliff where no one never came, no one never want to be. There the wind is cold and the rain is colder. No one but her can love that place. There she sees the ships coming and going, facing the reefs with courage, going to worlds she will never lay eyes upon. Sometimes she thinks her life is pointless but wakes for a sunny day and from her window she sees the sun beams dancing in the waves. She can see, in those days, when shoal of fishe pass and sometimes whales make the little coast their house for some days, their tales waving to her from time to time. She lives where no one wants to live, but she is not like anybody else. She is like the sea.
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Climbing to the Moon

acmigliacci@gmail.com (Andréa C) — Sun, 17 May 2009 00:20:00 +0000

Your imagination can be your best friend or your worst enemy. You can picture a stair that ascends from your mind to the sky. Or to hell. I like the journeys that lead me to the moon, but it is not always easy to step up to it. Sometimes I have my mind burning with questions and doubts that send me to the dark lands, via express train. It’s hard to find the moon there, it’s hard to find myself, but I can always reach for a dear memory, a memory from days that had no trouble in the air and where the worst nightmare was loose one of my dolls. This memory, sweet like the air in my grandma kitchen, brings me the steps and soon the moon shines in my mind. I am a werewolf without fangs and fur; all my senses became multiplied in those steps; all my feelings better ones. I drink from the silver beam and feel my blood turning to liquid silver. I am not human anymore. I am just another star revolving around myself for all the eternity. And finally I am free. I can return now.
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Rainstorm

acmigliacci@gmail.com (Andréa C) — Sun, 18 Feb 2007 23:35:00 +0000

The light make my eyes hurt, but is impossible not to look. The rainstorm is in full rage. I’m save standing on the porch, but my body is trembling. The wind brings me drops, cold like ice, sweet like candy, and these pearls damp my hair and soak my clothes. The thunders scare the earth that trembles like me. You can be afraid but you need to admire the tempest. It’s out of control. Humans can’t prevent it. Maybe this is the motive for me to fell so alive when the storm breaks, the clouds drop their tears and the air comes alive with electricity and sounds. It’s in these moments that I am more aware of the blood running in my veins. I am alive and the world is too.

Anonymous

acmigliacci@gmail.com (Andréa C) — Thu, 15 Feb 2007 23:58:00 +0000

They are strangers and maybe that is the reason why all seems so perfect. It’s not their first time, nor the second. They have been seeing each other for some time now, but the intimacy is limited to the sex. They don’t want to know. They don’t have time to care. They don’t need the ties that transform everything. Someday, maybe, but not today. They are anonymous in an anonymous city with anonymous jobs. They are not prepare to be personal, because caring and felling are a burden in this lost world. They don’t know, but in an anonymous way, they are the image of the decade.

Old

acmigliacci@gmail.com (Andréa C) — Wed, 14 Feb 2007 22:18:00 +0000

Here I am, sitting in my old chair, thinking about nothing. Maybe some day I’ll think about important things, but not today. This day is an old one. A day for rest only, and for trying to remember how things were. Are you following me? Can you understand how old my thoughts are tonight? They smell like flowers and burnt sugar, they feel like silk and pure mountain water. The taste in my mouth is orange from the tree and chocolate from a box. Can’t you feel it? The rain is friendly and falls like sweet tears from the sky. The rain is old, too. It fell on me, a long time ago, on a sunny day in a countryside landscape. The drops make me fell new and the smell of the earth is fresh. Can’t you feel it? My skin is cold but it doesn’t feel wrong, my fingers run over the keyboard like bird’s wings. Wings.... I have wings in my mind, always had, this is old news too. I hear the sound of the wings, like a million bats crossing the night. Old things, old thoughts, old wings. I’m happy I can feel old like that, happy that the sounds, smells and feelings are still present in my spirit. Now, stay still, the moment can run away from here if you don’t stay very, very still. I can hear the pages of the books turning like a mad windmill. A thousand words jump from their pages and make a dance for my old thoughts. Time to rest, leaving all behind me, leaving, for tomorrow, the old things of my mind.

New Ways

acmigliacci@gmail.com (Andréa C) — Wed, 14 Feb 2007 00:28:00 +0000

The day never lasts. Soon is another one coming. It’ll be time to do all over again. You will do it too. We are rats in big cages, big labs and big experiments. But than, maybe we are not. Tomorrow try to do it backwards, or merely in another way. Wake up earlier and don’t rush. Take another bus to work. Try tea instead of coffee. Have a banana split for lunch and popcorn for diner. Call a friend and tell one true thing. Give a smile and a hello to a stranger. Put your best underwear for a dull day. Sing for your dog to sleep. Ask your kids to sleep with them and start a pillow fight. Tell someone how you really fell. Kiss like is the first time or the last one. Feel the power of knowing that you can change small things than change a big one.

Dreams

acmigliacci@gmail.com (Andréa C) — Tue, 13 Feb 2007 00:10:00 +0000

The air is full of aromas, the wind bringing me the orient. Spicey flavour wrapped in reds and oranges. The leaves of the trees making music in the night. I try to concentrate, but all my dreams of the past manage to find the road that leads to the present. I surrender-why not? The reality is not appealing. So, I fly with the wind through the open door. The pyramids seem to rest in fluid gold but the vision doesn't last. A castle rests in the mist and I can feel the watery cloak that surrounds me. A river breaks washes through, the misty castle vanishing. A forest emerges and birds of infinite colors cross the sky. The river then ends abruptly into the sea, islands surfacing like dots on fabric. The sea freezes and the world turns white like memories before birth. I know this will never end if I don't want it to, but dreams can't warm me up in the winter, nor give me flowers in the spring. More than that, dreams can't kiss me with passion under the summer moon and will never give me a strong shoulder to support me during a fall. The dreams don't have strong and warm hands to brush my tears and will never understand what makes me laugh. I return.

The Door

acmigliacci@gmail.com (Andréa C) — Sat, 10 Feb 2007 23:46:00 +0000

The door is slightly open. All I can see is a string of light making a line in the floor toward me. The noise is disturbing and while I step forward, I give two steps back. The noise woke me. The insistence of it bothers me. The light escaping through the crack in the door disturbed me. I am all alone. It’s the way I like it, but not with the noises from hell and the strange lights. The night started well: good pasta with garlic and olive oil and a large cappuccino, a movie without pretensions and 3 chapters of a wonderful book while nibbling a chocolate bar. All these wonderful little things prepare me for a good night’s sleep in a fresh comfortable bed. The noise… it awakened me in the middle of a pleasant dream where no door was disturbing. I got out of bed, feeling the floor boards still warm from the hot sun that had soaked it during the say and started my search. My mind was clear, my heart was in peace, but not for long. The door was ajar, when I know I had left it fully opened. And the light… Light where shadows dance like in a diabolic ballet. My heart is racing and I want to run, but something hits the door, the light vanishes and reapers in seconds. I hit the floor hard, losing my feet with the shock. The door is half open after banging the panel and the shadows are now alive with colors. I curse aloud. Yes, they are devils, but my own devils. The fluffy things are what is making the noise, closing the door and turning the lights on. I want to scream but I can only laugh. They are my joy, my dogs, but sometimes I think they make a poor use of their brains. The best thing now is to make some popcorn and watch a horror movie. To match the mood.

Phoenix

acmigliacci@gmail.com (Andréa C) — Thu, 08 Feb 2007 22:33:00 +0000

All that blood...What did Shakespeare said about it? All I can do is watch the red river spiraling on the floor. I can’t move. I can’t breath. He is in an absurd position and I can't help but think how it happens that he, so strong, lay like a rag doll, old and battled. Something within me aches with pain and I turn to look in the mirror to see a stranger looking back at me. She has purple bruises all over her face; her eyes are huge in a strange sort of way. It’s a cold look. Surprise lies beneath the surface; deeper awakes an iron will, strange to the weakness of her own body. I do not know how much time I spent looking at my own face without recollection. People will tell me, later, over and over again, that it was shock, but I don’t think so. The woman in the mirror is more resilient, stronger and colder than I. And she is just Born.

The Night

acmigliacci@gmail.com (Andréa C) — Thu, 08 Feb 2007 17:06:00 +0000

You can see through the night. If you paid attention. If you don’t fear the unknown. If you have faith in your sanity. Staring into the night you can see eyes who stares back, you can hear whispers in tongues you understand but never learned, you can see shapes and movements and you can feel the breeze caressing your trembling body. It’s for the brave, the night, not for the weak of spirit. Senses go high leaving paths of fire in your blood. The reality is too much for the untrained eye and we close them too many times trying to understand what we glimpsed in the shadows. I have not much more to talk about. You need to be a night’s creature, like me, to understand and see, but if you feel your breath speeding while I talk so low and calmly, than, give me your hand and I will teach you how to walk in the dark.

No more time

acmigliacci@gmail.com (Andréa C) — Sun, 29 Oct 2006 22:54:00 +0000

I don’t have time.
I don’t want to wait.
I just happen to be ready for everything
I don’t want lies.
I listened too many all my life.
I just want trues that came from fair mouths.
Sometimes you need to choose
Without think Without ask for help
Because you have no time
And who wants to wait?
Those days, when everything was to be, are gone;
They died a long time ago
I need to look forward, forget all mistakes,
Remember just the good times and keep going
Because you have no time to spend in desperation
And the past is always a frightening site
It’s like looking back right through Medusa’s eyes
You will be froze in the most darkening times
And I have no time
You can wait and pray for something good
But you too can seek for better ways to walk your days,
Try new ways to do old things
Or you can wait and dare the time,
And it will laugh in your face and race it’s clicking
You will end anyway,
But sad and tormented by all the things you never made
So, I tell you again
Sometimes you need to choose
Without think Without ask for help
Because you have no time
And who wants to wait?