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Nick Cantarella


Bloomfield Hills, MI, US

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In Blindness We


Nick Cantarella

In blindness we dance, with impureness
lingering over a banquet of guests.
Baccus plays wine from his lyre of gold,
into blackened skins of slaughtered swine.

Loyal vows skribbled in blood above
a chalace, reminding those of flesh who
they belong to.

But when day breaks free of insanity.
When laughter is drowned out by the
sweet song of the morning rain,
pattering along the quiet streets and through
the valleys.

When the blindness opens our eyes to
our foolisness, our nakedness, we then begin
to live, again!

The Moon Is My Shadow


Nick Cantarella

Behind my quiet shadow
forever shall I hide.
And keep not, my soul, of a
shallow trace of I.

My soul doth hide beneath
my shadows sollem face.
A simple lie too easily hid
from natures earthly grace.
But low, the moon is my shadow,
for behind the sun I hide

The Sun hadth hid my shadow
twas night, and so I slept.
I drempt that it had stole away,
so I, in saddness wept.

My soul, now freed, has flown away
in search of greater things.
I turn my back upon the sun
and all the light it brings.
Yet low, the moon is my shadow,
for beneath the sun I rise.

I turn to greater things indeed
a shadow nevemore.
My body will endure the heat
my shadow never bore.

And low, twas night I come to see
my shadow had returned.
A blackened frame upon the earth
my soul forever burned.
For low, the moon was my shadow
and from the sun, it hides.

The Silver Moon Answers


Nick Cantarella

Stirred by the whisper come forth through the night
Awakened by Gods hushed words of light
Received by the moons silver glimmer of love
A gift, nay, an answer sent down from above

For the silver moon answers the bright harvest sun
Of a child of God, whom a victory won
Who, at last has been called to his dear Lords bequest
And has seen in the stars of another one blessed

An angel of light has came down from above
And enlightened the way down the path of true love
Two roads be as one, though diverged at a time
Is the answer I hear in a whisper sublime

And I write, for the night often tires of such things.
And the day, what is left of the joy that it brings?
But the silver moonís gaze in your eyes so fair
And the love that reflects off your golden hair

That is the answer I pray to be mine
For two roads, once diverged, to be one with time.

Incandescent Darkness


Nick Cantarella

It is light; for I see nothing.
It is loud; for I hear naught.
It is morning; I sleep.
I am.

It is cold; I feel a warmth.
It is calm; I move restless.
It is time; I come.
I am.

I have wings; I am trapped.
I am hungry; I have no food.
I need love; I am alone.
I am.

I see a moon; It was my morning.
I see a wing; It was my warmth.
I see an egg; It was my darkness.
I am

Esoteric Harmony


Nick Cantarella

Wind blows calmly over the silent blanket
of the velvet sea.
Like a babys breath on a mothers neck,
so making the stars shiver in the distance.
Washing the sand into delicate patterns playing
under the moonlight.
The enigmatic purl of life flowing from
something deeper.
What is it that keeps all balance of nature pure?
When will time show us our one true being?

The covert horizon slowly glows with
blushing surrender to fire.
And against the fire, never stopping
to question destiny.
The dolphins, a majestic crown of hope
upon this land.
To look into her eyes, that say so much,
yet we dont listen.
So content to live for every passing moment,
like a baby asking for the worlds love, yet
crying just to be heard; held.
Like the sea holds the wind that now lies serene

Truly Free


Nick Cantarella

And did little boys
let go of their kites,
watching as
they got stuck in
the trees.

And di little girls
rip pedals off
looking for true

Then poor girls
cry, when love
went wrong.

Then lost boys
try to free the ripping

Flowers are truely free
but with no pedals
have no beauty,
no love.

Kites are sorrows
escaped by those
who let go just
in time.

I beg
release your grip on
Sorrows and become like
a beautiful flower.

I beg
relaese your faith
in flowers to bring love
when a flower is love.

But only when you're
truely free
can you love a flower
that is truely beautiful.



Nick Cantarella

Smiles, fancied over stale coffee, all night conversations on why we both are so this and that
Over-priced blues in the form of, Coney Island specials and, French toast with Mrs. Buttersworth
Singing, donít fall in love with her, sheís not your usual, said with a side of regret and painí
On a slab of whole wheat bread.

Laughter, over the din of night owls hoots and hollers, stirring their cups of Joe with an almost
Rhythmic approach, as if our whole life had prepared us for what was to come, and the drum roll
Rolled on, laughing at our playful glances over the well-worn table, feet entwined like the bun
On our waitresses head.

Kisses, sweet kisses, will that be all tonight sir? And she said yes, before I even began to answer, she said yes, the people squirmed in their seats . . . she had been kind of loud huh. The rotating fan blades gave the eerie moment a life that if only it were mine, Iíd believe I would live forever, but what is forever when the drum rolls on without you.

Goodbye, favorite words these day, more comfortable to be alone than to have to pick up the torn cloth, mend them and put them back on our back. If only we had needed it more, but our protection was in our back pockets, or driverís seats, our big black couches and stale coffee. One more on the books, time to go, the sun is up and the silly smiles have all gone away.

Master of Illusions


Nick Cantarella

master of illusions
tell me again,
tell me what i see before my eyes,
give me the thrill of my life
give me a reason to believe . . .
in you

before the universe evolved
there were millions . . .
millions of lies to conceive
millions of people to deceive
this is the day before the eve . . .
of life

This is my life you are living
without me.
breaking my spirit with your tongue
leaving my history unsung
I'm going to haunt you till the day . . .
you die

Master of illusions
show me again,
show me all your secrets in the dark
pull back the curtains, i'm your mark
i see the strings, i see them lead . . .
to me

You are the master of Illusions
you hide in me
make me to see the things you will
open the cradle, see it spill
there goes another life that could . . .
have been