Frank Cadillac
Bronx, New York
Frank CadillacBronx, New York |
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Frank Cadillac was born and raised in Bronx, NY. He has recorded a CD and he has been involved with rock music since his early teens. He's been a sales representative for various home remodeling companies in the Big Apple. He has also moonlighted as a cabbie for private car companies. He is a Veteran of the NY City hard rock circuit and is a singer-song writer. He has appeared in many clubs in the Greenwich Village area. Frank Cadillac has an associates degree in Liberal Arts and attended Columbia University for 1 year. Recently, one of his poems was published by The National Library of Poetry in an anthology, "Best Poems of The 90's". Frank believes that communicating his thoughts through songs and poetry help him achieve a sense of oneness with others. His manuscript "A Song of The Streets" is a collection of 25 poems available for only $9.95 plus $2.00 shipping and handling. Any orders can be made through The International Poetry Hall of Fame. |
A Losing GameNine of five ain't nothing morethan slavery in disguise Measly little pay check is just there to blind your eyes Work and slave your life away For what? You'll never know It's a losing game. Everyday -- A dead end street with dreams that never come Your only hope is sixty- five when the rat race is all done Children getting older-- Maybe now you'll have some fun? It's a losing game. When you're old and grey, you'll take a trip around the world Slave days finally over -- All is fine and well The idols you have worshipped -- They won't save your soul from hell It's a losing game. |
On The Border Of Lust And Love (A Recollective Confession of LLoyd Charles- An Anglo Saxon Preacher)And so because the child was wrapped in a cocoon of dreamsHis mind hell-bent in following the drumbeats of adventure Which like and unrelenting typewriter tapped the script yet to unfold--A mystery of tomorrows. I stood with a flag tied to my prick, Swearing on ten stacks of Bibles and by Eternity's Name That I would never leave her--And so on I followed To the border of lust--Of love--Or wherever I tide might lead me. I swore by the God of the heavens and Lucifer below And again I swore by Heaven's Name --For a lust fanned by alcohol's insidious charm-- Now many years later, having followed to the border of lust--Of love--Or whatever the tide has led me, The mad rush has grown quiet, and the inner room made clean for recollection I neither remember her name nor the sight of her The adventure now past--At this time barely a memory Like an unmarked grave in Potter's Field- stone with no name Crying out from chambers of dream--and of mind I've long been forgotten--I've long been forgotten And as the shadows ceased wailing, only the present survived With so many mountains to climb--So many more rivers to swim I found love's mysterious power--To create someone in the image of someone they're not. How many more times must I cross the border again? |