This post is written in the memory of my beloved father Ioan Galasiu who passed away 24 years ago. My mother was 36 at that time, she had the age I have now. I was 12 years old then, young enough to not realise what was happening, old enough to remember everything for the rest of my life.
If I could I would bring roses to my father, as he loved them so very much. But since I am so far away I bring him the roses of thought and I remember him with all my love.
Every year when Christmas is near I humbly remember what was then and I try to imagine what may have been if dad would have been still alive. Yet I think that God called him earlier because He loved him too much.
Till the day when we shall meet again rest in peace dad, I love you.
In loving memory of Ioan Galasiu, *25.06.1949 +22.12.1989
memyselfandela, 22 December 2013
I am grateful for the gift of being alive
For the roses I bewilderingly find blooming under your blue sky.
When night comes, when my eyes cannot close
They can sometimes seize the star that lights up your dreams.
As it twinkles high above you, almost fading,
The distance to you means nothing anymore.
One day when my soul will look for a place to hide and to rest
It will find the shadow concealed between your loving arms.
100 words, memyselfandela, November 2013
You come and go
Swinging between what your heart craves for
and what you don’t even dare.
You talk and say nothing
drifting away between what you need
and what you fear you may not give.
You know and you don’t know
Hesitating between who you are
and who you want to be.
mute words speak
for the tears in my soul,
so You take them,
make them a river,
make my heart a stone,
crush me, make me a pot
to burn all the pain.
33 words, memyselfandela – August 2013
Some might tell you it’s only noise
Others will say it’s just music
Yet don’t believe a thing, simply listen.
Hear this grave voice, this is no longer a bare cello
It’s my very heart, this metal heartbeat is my very life
This sound is the blood running through my veins.
Rather than take it away from me just kill me,
This is my passion, the voice of my love.
memyselfandela, June 2013
My identity disolved in long sleepless nights
is no longer relevant
and my wishes and dreams are gone with the wind
since I understood that this rambler love doesn’t stop
yet every time when it’s coming
I caress its cheek with the same sweetnes, like always.
I didn’t ask for anything, I always give it all
and I have its memory to fill me up.
I was, and I don’t know what I was,
and I am, and I don’t know what I am,
maybe just the ear that hears its pain
and the eye that cries its tears.
I’ll write you about the moments when you face life
Like a boxer ready to be hit again straight in the face
Wearing scary tattoos on every inch of his chest
But nothing but fears inside it.
I’ll paint you all you can’t stand
Like not being able to taste life freely
But only in small sips given in constrained limited relationships
Humble ratio – shots versus an endless thirst.
I’ll sing you about all that makes you feel bad
Stirring this rain that is endlessly pouring over your soul
Building your need to escape from this restraint universe
In ephemeral ramshackled paralell castles of sand and words.
I’ll strew you all the times
When you’re so busy dreaming that you miss your own life
Between getting drunk and two advertisements that repeat themselves
Making it all feel like an endless depressing Sunday evening.
I’ll demolish all the strength you’ve never had
But that you dream to steal from every possible corner of street
And all the moments when dwarf souls rejoice
In laughing of your deepest misery.
I’ll scatter life in sunless moments
Hopeless shelterless bloody moments ,without self esteem or stamina
And if in between you might glimpse love,
It will be not in the light, but in the deepest hell of existance.
memyselfandela, June 2013