Agostino Scafidi was born and raised in Montreal, Canada of Sicilian descent. His artistic journey stemmed from childhood, dabbling on a nylon stringed guitar and writing stories.
He began seriously pursuing music with dedication, determination and devotion in 1998. His first experiences were with rock bands, eventually gravitating towards solo work within the realms of electronic music. These contrasting arenas of creative application existed in tandem until 2008, where he would then focus on solo efforts and at the same time reconnect with his love for the written word.
Roughly two years after that new direction change would he lean exclusively towards writing, producing no new music. His practice of the guitar continued regardless, as a personal, private pursuit.
Agostino Scafidi. Montreal, Canada.
Where readers can purchase his eBook:
It comes in mobi, epub, pdf, and doc along with the cover image.
Where listeners can purchase his Audiobook:
It comes in your choice of Flac, various Mp3 formats, as well as other audio formats.
Cover by: Samantha Scafidi
A departure from the original installment, although not so far out that the reader will be blindsided. Volume Two is not just more of the same poetry, yet at the same time it is. It's not as dark and cynical as the original, yet there are still such moments to be had. You'll discover poems showcasing a wider range of emotions, extracting new and fresh colours from the palette of life.
Cover img at 800x1170px:
Feb 16 2015
ISBN (eBook) 978-0-9936659-4-3
ISBN (Audiobook) 978-0-9936659-5-0
It's Almost Here
I can see the train pulling in,
Coming around the bend,
My eyesight isn't great,
But it's plain as day.
I'm in its way,
I've known this for a while now,
Still haven't been able to accept it,
Never feeling fully prepared.
Fear is not a factor in this,
It will happen one way or another,
How painful will it be though?
That's my main wonder,
Yes it is,
I'm looking around me,
Nothing to find,
I guess that's good.
Let's cause a commotion,
Let's throw a mess around,
Oh but I'd rather just sit here.
Before the chaos comes,
It inevitably does,
But maybe not this time,
Grasping At Straws
Hoping I'll make some sort of sense,
Wishing for something.
Maybe tomorrow will make me wiser,
As long as I don't go backward.
More stable than a leap.
It depends on your stomach,
Can you hold on to your lunch?