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Dina Cassiano Poem
How?
How is that we shall remember.
Remember many things, least of all to dream.
Dream dreams of yesterday and tomorrow?
Dream.
Dream dreams of today, one will go, one will stay.
Ours to keep?
Keep one eye on want you want and one on what you've got…they say.
To keep an eye upon the dreams,
seems such an easy thing, but leads instead, to
Enormity.
Enormous pressure and contemplation
with mounds and mounds of piled up words
and lessons learned.
To sift through, takes patience.
(Something that I haven’t got).
But, Oh please, I will listen, if you will tell.
How do we keep an eye on what it is we dream,
When perhaps it seems to float about without visibility?
To find it, just point in the direction, and with or without certain introspection,
I’ll set out upon the task to it's projection...
still, how, I ask?
I sit and wonder.
Wonder, Wonder... Wonder.
Wander... wander, my mind wanders.
Too late, my mind now wanders.
I have set out on a path, another endeavor.
Oh well, I must add to my list...
this dream thing-very important.(underline twice)
**geeeeet baack to ddrreeeeams, period. NO! no. Yes. exclamation!
(There, that should do it).
Copyright © Dina Cassiano | Year Posted 2012
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Dina Cassiano Poem
Kiss me awake.
In a deep ravine I lay,
Here all joy is washed away.
Down with lovers and out with faith,
Enter doubt, hello hate.
I can’t last another minute,
Face down, mouth open, dirt is in it.
Sun beats harsh upon my back,
I’m burned and ripped, my heart is cracked.
No longer can I hear them laugh.
Stopped listening, A, and B, go deaf.
If I close my eyes I’ll find,
I see no more, I’m rendered blind
From the side, so quickly swiped,
Off the page, forever wiped.
Over the edge, pushed from behind,
I’ve stepped too far across the line.
In the corners of my mind,
Memories, of the good ole times,
Lingering, slowly, they too, fade,
Thunder storms on my parade.
In this deep ravine I wait,
My lips are pursed, kiss me awake.
Copyright © Dina Cassiano | Year Posted 2012
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Dina Cassiano Poem
Maybe it is all in my head.
If that’s the case, I’d rather be dead.
Please let me know I’m not imagining it all.
I know what I hear when unspoken echos call.
But i know It’s much easier to just think that I’m dumb.
because when you ridicule, I’ll play right along.
“If she had half a brain floating round in her head,
She’d hear my words echo”….......................
yeah. The ones left unsaid.
Then you’d say “only a fool would put on that hat”.....
“Its not what she thinks, must be this, must be that”.
Well, IT IS what I think. Words cant hide all that much.
Its whats left unsaid that delivers a punch!.
Some, we can hear what to others, is not clear.
Read between lines while yours words echo in the air..
Well…
Go ahead, attach labels….they’ll fit like a shoe.
Even when its not me and its everything you!
Come on, you can throw weak spots in my face,
Poke bruises and point while I’m here in this space.
“Must be an idiot”, You say. “I am better than her “.
Why else would one stay in dis-ease and not cure?
I Know not to ask that you understand.
Clearly, it takes more than you’ve got, little man.
I don’t ask or need you reach out a hand.
For that, it takes what you lack, woman.
In many ways I AM different than you.
If our places were switched, I hope this is what id do:
Imagine for a moment…You, a Brainless Old Fish.
That nasty, sharp metal ,got stuck in your lips.
I would take it out for you, let you off the hook.
Even though you watched me squirm while I cooked.
Well remember, you’re just one step away
from the drunk you saw barf in the alley today!
And, in case you didn’t know, I can see loud and clear,
the Dis-ease that you hold, All the way over here.
Copyright © Dina Cassiano | Year Posted 2012
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Dina Cassiano Poem
LIARnull and void inside my bloods boils.
It burns and it churns.
lurching forward, returns.
Now I am in the place where I started, no grace.
No supper, no begging, or bartering.
just tears dried up, here on my face.
They are cracked, they are molding, long stayed in place.
for my skin, sad, is folding, bends cover my face.
Now The ground, where I stare, traps a fly by the hair.
I swear I can hear what the creature is thinking..
He fears that his maker will try him for treason....
And oh, for good reason he has to beware....
for his thoughts soaked with guilt, guilt and despair.
Oh what a pair we would make as we stand , no glory we’re perched, on my knee, holds my hand. Atop of the celebratory white cake
soaked, our feet wet with pain and heartache...
draped, our bones in the love that our promises will break....
Break, break, can you hear the bone crack.?
Slap the face, hate, no love just disgrace.
No love for our selves, why should we, who does????
shut up, martyred, scared, plain, scarred, and afraid.
Afraid of it all, to stand and to fall, to live and to die, to love hating it all.
Just down the way they’ve a group, down the hall ,
who’ve agreed to be pigs, hogs in the stall.
slaughtered for taste, slaughtered for fat.
slaughtered by all of the dog fat rats ate...
the ones who came first, who left you with thirst,
who showed you the way to this deserts dry dirt.
Now HURT!!!!. go hurt, like the rest of them all.
all stand ready, so ready, ready to FaLLLL,
hurt, hate, lust, lust,lust,lust.disgust... discussed...
.I hate. I hate. I wish. I wish. I can. I can.
“Do you have any hearts”?...
“no................ GO FISH”
Copyright © Dina Cassiano | Year Posted 2012
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Dina Cassiano Poem
a lunch invitation gone whackado
So proudly they marched through the town on that day.
For they knew not a thing would get into their way.
The whacados marched with their heads in the air, their eyes affixed, I guess, on something up there.
As the town folk watched them with fear,
Each soldier, one after the other appeared.
Like a non- stop machine, a continuous stream,
Pouring in like the rain, to a trickling stream.
Tough, their boots, strapped up to the knee, I’m surprised, through the shades they wore, they could see.
They had a mission, a job to do. What it was, I wonder, if they’d even a clue.
The orders that were given to them,
were to react to what, they viewed, a malicious attack.
I wonder, and still do today, how a lunch invitation was misconstrued in that way.
They marched, in great form, to our leaders, whom sat quiet and still, Waiting to hear what they had to say.
We saw The big one in front do the telling,
What he didn’t see is that all he was doing, was yelling..
So silent and calm our chosen remained.
They waited their turn, to come into the game. Finally, when this moment arose, out from their mouths, our truth was exposed.
Oh boy, I’ve never seen such a sight of
massive retreat, when so ready to fight.
Just a moment ago, these soldiers who knew, now know nothing that they once knew, was true.
We stared sturdy, yet kindly, into their eyes, as
something, inside of them, quietly died.
They, for the first time, I think in their lives,
Actually learned something they’d before not realized.
That maybe the next time they know somethings true, they’ll check, first, the facts and get back to you.
What’s more is that they see, I think happily, is that not with every town comes a threat.
Maybe…just maybe, a lucnh invitattion is nothing, but that.
Copyright © Dina Cassiano | Year Posted 2012
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Dina Cassiano Poem
U N~ BE L I(e)VE
What if I told you to u n b e l i e v e?
O p e n the doors and let all your t r u t h s leave.
Take what you think means your good,
dump it at the curb,
throw it out and tell it NEVER to RETURN!
“Be polite and fair and be honest, too.”
How many times has someone said this to you??!
Now for your convictions about what you think is bad,
behaviors and betrayals, getting much too mad,
tell them to find some other place to dwell
housing these truths makes my body unwell.
Believing like that leaves me no wiggle room;
no place to smash down without feeling doom.
While we sit and condemn our beacon of light,
for making choices were told are not right,
we also judge others around us for actions they’ve made,
which our limits decide just don’t make the grade.
So maybe set free from this tight little place we can nurture all sides of us, every last face!
Just think about how you’d love if you knew
those dark secrets you hide, are not really you!
Just because you did something we know as BAD
does not mean that this label is all you now have.
What if what is, really is not,
and what we thinks not, is 10 times more than a lot!?
How about deciding, we don’t have to decide, we don’t have to fight
and we don’t have to hide.
For a moment let’s think of how it would feel
to release the need to know... and just kneel.
Can you release the things you say make you, you?
And embrace the ones you did, but said you never do?
If you can muster the courage to give it a try
you and your self just may see eye to eye.
Your unburdened spirit will thank you in ways you never dreamed true.
Its abundance flows freely, no force or mistakes, just the love that is you.
Copyright © Dina Cassiano | Year Posted 2012
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Dina Cassiano Poem
THE FOOL AND THE CHILD
To be absorbed by it is losing your mind,
no longer aware of, space, shape, or time.
To have it surround you is being untied,
no longer afraid to let go and just ride.
To let it engulf you is you being born,
only this time, from yourself you are torn.
To know it believes in you, is a trampoline
that tosses you higher, then higher again.
To summon it whenever you want it around,
is a buried treasure still deep in the ground.
To wonder about it, a painful yearning like you’ve never known,
a lesion that wont heal , over time it has grown.
To see it removed is watching a surgeon removing your thoughts,
amputating, and severing all you have got.
To know it was stolen is a three alarm fire,
a raging inferno burning up your desires.
But to know it was you, who let it slip through,
who carelessly sat while it all came unglued,
frozen with fear, made not one move,.
You snipped the last thread that held it together,
could’nt care less, one way or the other.
Well this is the child whom pretends to be grown,
a lover without a love of his own,
a shelter without one to shelter from sun,
a fool who continues to fool no one,
except himself and himself, alone.
and knowing this child is knowing one thing for sure,
this kid, I’ve seen standing outside my front door,
Looking hungry, and sad and with peculiar temptations, luring the fool with false admirations.
Copyright © Dina Cassiano | Year Posted 2012
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Dina Cassiano Poem
Lovers hate with forceful Vengance
once it starts, no way to end it.
Lovers taste of someone different,
poisoned it, forever changed it.
Hating love thats left you lonely,
Burning fear comforts you coldly.
Hating hate that holds you captive,
feeding it, fueling it, keeping it active.
Lovely hateful memories,
fill your mind, create disease.
one day holding ceremonies
sunrise burning dead, deceased.
Hateful, lovely, lonely one,
hates himself for whats hes done.
Now theres no more sinful fun
no loving , no hating, just moving on.
Sets the barrell against his skull,
pulls the trigger, lets it go.
Hate, in red, now wall to wall,
upon the ceiling, down the hall.
Picking up pieces of their families lives,
left, the children to wonder why.
The earth now cracks, the ground runs dry.
So from above the couple cries.
Raining , pouring, floods of tears.
So many, unused wasted years.
Copyright © Dina Cassiano | Year Posted 2012
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Dina Cassiano Poem
Freedom light
Now and Then I wonder about life, and about death.
And then I start to ponder, and then take a deep breath.
I wrap my arms around myself, my head falls to my chest.
I give myself a warm embrace and wish all of us the best.
For life is now, and only now, which is the only way to live.
The sun will shine on you somehow, if you take and if you give.
And when it does you'll know it, the person you become.
And when you do you'll love it, and now it's just begun.
So take it all and use it up, do what you want to do.
Go down that road to fill your cup and you'll discover, too,
that life is free, alive with light, calling out for you.
Your sun and sky, your land and sea, are only for you to move.
Copyright © Dina Cassiano | Year Posted 2012
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Dina Cassiano Poem
I sit and wonder with the sway of my laugh,
‘How could I of’ or ‘why didn't I do that’?!
Inside these questions, I get carried away,
Taken someplace I'd rather not stay.
Here I sit, stuck in my head,
Stay too long, might as well be dead.
This is the place from which I seek refuge.
It's tall and it's deep, it's peculiar and rude.
I know with each bit of energy I give it,
It grows like there's no tomorrow, no end in sight to it.
Still, try as I may, I get stuck in here some days.
Impossible to unwind, my wing are tied, can’t fly away.
There, I remain tied up in a knot,
Trying to convince my devils to stop.
Unlock the doors and unwind the chains,
That hold me afraid and drive me insane.
To myself, I pray, "release me, self, give me a break.
"Throw me some rope, some hope, my heart aches".
If you are reading the words on this page,
You’re meant to help open the door to my cage.
Listen, believe, and together we can,
Rain on the drought I’ve brought to my land.
We poets share, a kindred despair, so
Each can relate to the hell I feel here.
With a breeze, pray, then a sigh of your breath
The disease, in the wind, and j u s t I am left.
No longer can I, I hate this way.
Send love and send peace, perhaps wisdom, at least.
And with a breeze, I’ll pray, a gentle sigh of my breath
Released to all those who need it the best.
Just a suggestion.
Copyright © Dina Cassiano | Year Posted 2012
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