Category Archives: Writing by FScavullo

Clouds of Thought

I write down my thoughts starting with a first line

I proceed most usually in the style of a rhyme write about nature and those who have passed

I do this on paper to be sure my thoughts will last

They are the thoughts that I am feeling at that moment and at that time

Some are uplifting and spiritual while others carry a dark chime

It has been asked of me by those who have read my thoughts if I am feeling o.k.

Some read into to it that I am crying out for help because on this earth I no longer want to stay

What I write are observations during that time in my life that I record

Whether it be happy, romantic or sad

To not write them down I cannot afford

This is written for

This is written for those of you I will leave behind

Let sadness not follow for it is happiness you should find

I will enter unto a peaceful more divine place

The memories of me should bring a smile to your face

My soul will be set free from the confines of this shell

I will live in your head for future generations to tell

I did nothing spectacular that the history books will record

I followed an ancient belief in God and kept close to the Lord

It is easy when you receive the blessings that I have been bestowed

My family has remained strong down a fairly smooth road

So when I pass think of me and let my memory bring joy to each day you start

For I will be alive in everybody who loves through the power of the Sacred Heart

Frankie Scavullo


We share a common mother, as we share a common moon.

When we wish we were elsewhere, like Sylvester and his pebble, Mommy is there to guide us, like bass is to treble.

She is the woman, our mother, that always hears our plea. Beyond any of our expectations of a boy, an apple and a giving tree.

The thought of Mommy exhilarates us, like the sound of music and running in a field. Mommy is strong, for quickly her cracked shell will be healed.

Mommy is always prepared for whatever may arise. Like Mary Poppins, her bag is filled with more than one surprise.

She raised us on Richard Scary, faith and New Yorker cartoons.

When the pieces were falling around us, she was there to pick up the ruins.

There is a voice can you hear it? Everything is going to be okay”.

Mommy has grandchildren, they will call her out to play.

So imagine a cross, bright above her bed and know she is in good hands.

For the Holy Trinity is with us as countless as the ocean sands.

Frankie Michael Scavullo

Written shortly after Mommy suffered a stroke in 2004


I live for the beach and the warmth of the sun.

The rays from the summer moon and the days of lost fun.

The walks with my dog on a breezy warm beach;

or with someone special, as a confidant  with whom my secrets won’t breach.

On the water and alone is where I search for inner peace.

It is where the cares of the world disappear, and the toils of the day tend to cease.

I feel quite spoiled this life I made by the sea

As I look for elsewhere to go, I find that this is where I want to be.

Frankie Michael Scavullo March 1, 2004

My Congregation

I never was a victim I was warned of the menacing foe

Someone who should have been trusted deceitful seeds he would sow

I cannot imagine the pain I would have to live with would I think it was my fault

The memories running through my head would they ever come to a halt

Would I know who was to blame as if I could think it were me

Now the congregations eyes are open a clear vision with which to see

We cannot put total responsibility on the church there where predators in our midst

We are taught to forgive our neighbors as we clinch our hands in a fist

I have heard the stories of strangers and from those who are familiar and close

It seems as if justice had turned a blind eye and righteous has left their watchful post

It was told to me by a friend this is a modern day test of faith by our Lord

The true believers shall end up wielding the commanding end of the sword

We must not forget and never let it happen again as it has in the past

For those who have survived our intentions must be constant and steadfast

Frank Michael Scavullo

The Rider

His name is death and he rides a swift white horse of a ghost.

As if the last supper was to come, and you wish for the final host.

It all comes to your door when the final bell tolls

You look out on the mainland and see all the poor souls

You realize the end is near and you quiver at the thought

All the desperate prayers you sowed, all the countless battles you fought

You know you will awake and all will be well

And once again you will enter the market with your goods to sell.

Each day will be a toil for which you must overcome

Like the constant pounding of your heart like a constant beating drum

The time for all will come when God says it is time

So don’t take this with weight just know that it is a rhyme.

Frank Michael Scavullo

Dead on Arrival

It says D.N.R. on the chart, resuscitate me not.

Let me die on the stretcher lay me to rest in the family plot.

If it’s my time to go let me loose the downhill fight.

Don’t try to bring me back let me walk into the light.

Make no mistake I’m not suicidal, but if it comes to be; let me finish this long drawn out recital.

Some may say I’m crazy I say to each their own.

Nobody’s dropping by to see me or calling on the phone.

A small piece called an obituary would be over looked by most I knew

Whatever happened to him? I doubt anyone would have a clue.

Life would go on without me; it would be left for everyone else to live.

For me I am a D.N.R. I have no more to give.

Frankie Michael Scavullo July 2003

Hit Man

I will never be a hit man for a mob family or the Cali Cartel.

I will never say good bye using a gun to say farewell.

I may slick down my hair, like a wop I use the gel.

But my enemy will never fear from me the sound of the final bell.

I am Frankie Knuckles, “The Man” but not the one you should fear.

I have not yet drawn blood or caused an eye to tear.

But my time might come when I am called upon to hit.

With a piano wire I find the throat of my victim to cause a fit.

As he lies at my feet dead I will know that I have done wrong.

The family he left behind will forever mourn and long.

Now I am sorrowful, because I cannot take it back.

The tall tale heart will haunt me as if beating from under the floorboards of my shack.

I am sure nobody saw as I brutally slayed a man

My paranoia will play with my head until it lands me life in the can.

Frank Michael Scavullo  

The Reason for War

You most always can pin the cause on land, religion or race.

Many wars are fought over each with a great deal of haste.

To try to understand war you must follow events at a rapid pace.

Some revel in their victories leaving behind destruction and waste.

To others war is vial and leaves the person with a bad taste.

To leaders, profit lies in war as they patrol the battle field in their cotton, silk and lace.

The victims are left to mourn the dead that are left lying in their cold wooden case.

Meanwhile the pilots who dropped the bombs return safely to their base.

 Medals are placed on their chest and the heroes are given the title of


If you could see all the atrocities of this earth you would never be able to look anyone in the face.

Until we can put aside our differences there will be many more tombstones put in place.

 We will visit from time to time with flowers adorning a tarnished vase. 

                          Frankie Michael Scavullo

Gravity is a Bitch

Gravity is a bitch that we fight from birth.

Always trying to free ourselves from the rock called earth.

Like superman, if only we could fly through the air.

Instead were stuck here to wallow in our dispare.

Oxygen is another that keeps us trapped where we stand.

Was life here figured out, was it even planned?

The moon, the planets all circulating in space,

And here we are stuck in this sphere of a place.

Astronauts venture, punching the envelope with every ride.

Like a microorganism being washed up with the tide.

A grain of sand on the beach we are smaller with every breath.

New generations to follow the past but to all inevitable death.

Live life to its fullest escape its confines when you have the chance.

Like a strange twisted melody that forces you to dance

Frankie Scavullo