All posts by fscavullo

Captain’s log; Star Date Agosto 18, 2010

I have landed in a very different world. The local personas are friendly and most obliging but I proceed cautiously and take each encounter with a watchful eye.  For the most part I have found the personas that habituate in this region friendly and very unassuming. The plant speces, although somewhat familiar are much dissimilar than those of my native land. At this time I equate the abundant foliage to the day after day lluvia, much similar to our rain that covers the tierra that I am most familiar with.  My pattern of language has become a blend of English and the native tongue called Tico. While the native women are beautiful, again I must be cautious and proceed with a high guard. The female species in the large metropolis areas are inclined to receive payment shortly after meeting the opposing sexual category unlike in our land where they acquire payment over the course of several months or even years. From what I can distinguish the rural women appear to be very fertile in conjunction with the surrounding lands.  Most have at least 2 young children following close to their sides. The animal spices are quite different here in many ways. The domesticated animals are in abundance and roam free throughout the region. The livestock are raised mainly free range and have very little corn, hormone or pesticide influence as we have become accustomed to in our native land. I have befriended a large colorful bird which is bilingual in both Espanole and English. She shrieks my name on a daily basis which has become monotonous. The waters in the area are abundant with healthy marine life as well as recyclables which tend to deposit themselves on the playa daily. The infrastructure of the current area in which I exist seems to be very mismanaged which I equate to a corrupt and indolent regime. The roads are crumbling and in disrepair for several month. Most notable is the absence of any military force. For nearly 60 years, even though surrounded by neighboring militant land, the region has had no conflict or need for an army. The locals in the entire region have a catch phrase “pura vida” meaning pure life which is utilized in both saying hello and goodbye as well as to notify an inquiring party that everything is fine or “ todo bien”. I will transmit mas info as it becomes available.


I am a visitor to this land the language I do not speak
I try to make conversation but off my tongue the new words are slow to creep
I take solace in the nearby playas and know the waves understand my plight
The choice was mine alone and I am at peace and know my selection was right
The people are a humble sort and with smiles they carry on their day
Gluttony does not guide most of them; this is very much not their way
In this life, simple is better, you better know this before your venture begins to start
You will be swept away by its beauty and in a short time it will capture your heart
So now the decision is made, yes I will become part of this culture and race
I will disappear from my former life as if gone without a trace.
Frankie Michael Scavullo

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Chivalry Gone

Where are the valiant Knights of today

Are they bashful and hiding as if at bay

Without a crusade to fight is it home where they stay

Have they retreated to the country side to contemplate and pray

Has their body armor gone unused and started to decay

Have both man and their horse become tired and turned gray

Is it that their swords have rusted with no more dragons to slay

Maybe the crowds that greeted them after their victories no longer congregated to shout hurray

It seems the fearless Knights of so long ago have all gone away

Frankie Scavullo

My Loss is Grave

It was quickly after I lost my mother that I realized the true worth of a heartfelt hug. I have somewhat taken for granted what is known as unconditional love.
I will forever remember how it felt to get that gentle kiss on my cheek, which was always followed by the greeting “hello Frankie” as she had so many a chance to speak. There has never been a day that I have not thought of her and never questioned why. It pains me as it would anyone that I never knew to say goodbye. It is now of recent that my memories carry a heavy weight, for sometimes I go to call her because for a brief moment I have forgotten her fate.
The pictures surround my dwellings and the images of her lives forever in my head, I wonder if my prayers were in vain as they were so often recited from my bed. There is a strange emptiness in my heart that is weighing heavy on my soul, we all know that death will come but are afraid for the final bell to toll.
I have experienced much death in my lifetime but this is surely the most difficult to bear, I am alone and without spouse with only a brief moment with siblings for my feelings to share. Mommy is in a better place, for that is what everyone has to me said, It has been instilled in me that I will see her again when death brings me to where I am lead. Sip your tea mother and read from the vast literary books of choice, when the wind blows through the trees I will imagine that my ears can hear your voice.
Frank Michael Scavullo

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Memories of Youth

We grew up in a world where animals on pages could speak.

 Conversations were held with snowflakes so our imaginations could peak.
We would play with our toys on the thin carpeted floor. Patches were ironed into our jeans to save a trip to the store.
Shared with us at random were New Yorker cartoons.      The echoes of laughter would emanate down the hall from our bedrooms.
Our friends should have been jealous because of the upbringing we were given.

Dinner with the family nightly and every morning to school we were driven.

We were given privilege and dressed by a Lord and A Taylor.

Our fairy tale lives by the shore were shielded from the visionary writings of the man called Mailer.

So as it was the memories will forever live in our minds.

Sometimes the facts are askew but there is always a sibling to fill in the missing lines.

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Life’s Script

I have witnessed more leave than enter this world.
As life’s journey is played out and its events unfurl.
Everyone exits with a legacy that is to each their own.
Leaving behind a life time of experience, a random cultivation of seeds that have been sown.
Some depart life’s stage with their merits receiving a roar of applause and a well deserved standing ovation.
While others leave us in obscurity alone with no friends, relatives, achievements or relations.
The faces of our elders tell the tales of the past.
Each wrinkle, each line, each scar is an important part of the cast.
In the end the story is told, laid out on the pages of life.
The script is composed of memories and bound together with joy and strife

Frank Michael Scavullo July 29, 2007

What If

I Saw Him on the Street As If a Common Man

I Looked In To His Eyes and Saw A Healer Preparing To Carry Out His Final Plan

The Wisdom of Two Thousand Years and Beyond Emanated from His Being

I Was In The Presence Of His Holiness and the Feeling Was Most Agreeing

I Asked Him What Had Brought Him Here, To This Place and At This Time

He Answered Me “Have You Not Heard the News for the Final Bell Will Soon Chime”

I Knew Of What He Spoke, Understanding Every Word

For It to Happen In My Life Time Seemed Queer If Not Totally Absurd

Then I Thought Over My Years, Of What I Had Been Witness to

And Seen on Tape

As If on High Speed, Play Back I Visualized All the Worlds Murders, Wars, Abortions and Rapes

A Clear Picture in My Mind Were the Atrocities of the Human Race

My Brain Was Clouded Of Earths Wholesomeness, Its Knowledge Had Been Obscured As If Erased

I Then Was Given the Privilege to Walk with Him and Our Steps Followed Each Their Own

As I Went To Look at Him One Last Time He Was Gone and I Found Myself Alone

I Realized as I Stood There I Was Witness to the Preemptive Second Coming

I Then Heard the Words Whispered, “Tell Everyone” As It Faded To a Gentle Humming

Sunset on Playa Jaco, Costa Rica

Looking Back

This five years later I look back on what we lost.

A feeling of freedom and safety that we Americans protect at all costs.

I remember the fallen heroes who came from scattered precincts to answer the call.

The innocent people who went to work that morning not knowing the towers would fall.

Evil had taken flight on wings of hatred and deceit. Their actions would affect everyone as we watched the world crumble at our feet.

Now we refer to it as ground zero, a memorial has plans to be built.

The names of those who perished adorn walls overlooking what is left of the rubble and silt.

We are safer thanks to the defending forces we put in place but a scar remains on our soul.

Many more have died to protect our freedom, they have paid the ultimate toll.

Now our best defense is prayer against this radical movement that has grown. We must plead with the Lord to squash the evil seeds that they have sown.

Frankie Michael Scavullo 9/11/2006

Heroes Lost

Heroes Lost

How will I feel when the last of my heroes die?

Will I act strong in public while in the darkness I cry? Will I fool myself by pretending they still walk the earth?

Will it affect me in such a way that it will diminish my feeling of self-worth?

Will I place others on a pedestal as if to worship like those I lost?

Only to find the replacements are so easily to be tossed.

My heroes will be gone only to be remembered in the recesses of my mind.

In the dark jumbled mental warehouse they will remain safe for me to find.

They raised me, they mentored me and they gave me advice on love and life.

They were there in the good times and will guide me through the bitter strife.

Frank Michael Scavullo July 2006[001027]

Big House Beach

I just got the news that our good friend Surfer Dave has passed.

The memories of growing up on the point with his influence are sure to last.

He was the one we would watch Planet of the Apes with on Saturday and he would read us excerpts from Helter Skelter on the beach.

As Marie, Tommy and I ran down Devon Road in the dark to the driveway we thought we would never reach.

It was the age of Aquaris and the summer of love.

Dave’s father would do magic tricks with flowers under a handkerchief turning into a dove.

He is a legend in my mind like a rock star, with the world as his stage.

Frozen in time as if we never grew up and all remained the same age.

Dave is part of the waves and if you return to the ocean you can stand with him once more.

The waves call his name and his breath help the gulls to soar.

Be not sorrowful that Dave has left this earth. For he has entered his promise land, which has given him a new birth.

Frank Michael Scavullo June 15, 2006