Path Symbol: As seen in a book of petroglyphs by the author in the year 2000.
Credited to the Anasazi circa 1100 A.D,
while his vision of the symbol came in 1997, confirming its significance.
Seven Crows
Poetry - Stories - Inspirational
by D. C. Bianchino

Book VII
It's Our Song

Though the Devil
He may take a dive,
know His Harley,
will survive.


Bombs in buildings,
tired of the game.
Us and them
them and us,
faces in the flames.

A spaceship and comet,
leaving us behind.
Suicides passengers,
stepping out of time.

U.S. executions,
tired of the game.
Us and them
them and us,
faces in the flames.

Where is this going,
cancers on the rise.
Living in a cesspool,
right before our eyes.
Everyday predictions,
how it's going to end.
What a sad message,
tabloids will defend.

Money money money,
tired of the game.
Us and them
them and us,
faces in the flames.

Hidden in the valley,
flowers under snow.
Waiting for the thaw,
wanting just to grow.

Hidden in this valley,
tired of the game.
Us and them, them and us,
faces just the same.


Who are they
that ride this train,
beneath the city streets?
Who are they in carnival,
as those who seem discreet?
What does make each one a "they,re"
as I myself declare.
Is it from those eyes I see,
that look at me and stare?

I ride with you
the newest child,
and those who are the least.
I ride with you the many lines,
that squeal under our feet.
I ride with you this day a dream,
that seems an acid trip,
the purple hair, the dress, the tie,
the pierced, as one with lip.

Could "they" be, those who ride,
so we could finally meet,
those like me who think they're not
like those who share these seats?
And if they didn't and it's just
something of our times,
then who are they now telling me,
this carnival is mine?


In a dank and dingy dreary room
where a Soul still waits that lies
entombed I too feel its utter gloom
in the same dank dingy dreary room.

The dampness carries with it spores
from that which passed, now indoors,
that I breath, and show its sores,
and what this Soul, cold, implores.

For here it came a dismal May
and on this bed its body lay
until its heart was to decay
but not its Soul for it would stay.

And now I lie upon this bed
face to face with what we dread
that which dies but isn't dead
and which it's damned for life it led.

And as I lie and feel this night
much darker than its amber light
to which it tells me of its plight,
this death is clearly in plain sight.

It tells me that its life was torn
filled with sadness and forlorn,
for thus its need to be reborn
for love it missed and needs adorn.

And in my own vicissitude
I felt myself as imbued
to humbly speak, though not intrude,
so I began for I was moved.

"I feel you now upon my skin,
and in my heart now wearing thin,
and like this room we both are in,
I know we are as one, and kin.

For you are in the very air,
I feel you in my own despair,
for we are both a eaches care,
even if this seems unfair.

I know we walked side by side,
and what we felt we did confide,
for fools are only those who hide,
but life we loved, and damn we tried.

But here we are both now slain,
feeling now each others pain,
and feeling as I do disdain,
for what I see that seems insane.

But I am here to be with you,
to let you know loves still as true,
and though this dampness runs us through
we must not fear, what fear can do."


Tattered splattered worn and matted,
not a scene of one who's flattered.
Filling spilling what is chilling,
from the depths of one's own willing.

Listening learning from the churning,
all because there is a yearning.
Even if it seems now savage,
I am husband to this marriage.

Something drudging something sludging,
something someplace something nudging.
It is likened to the cauldron
after what went through its scalding.

Passive massive Mona's ashes
with her smile de Vinci flashes.
And it's here that I am led
as if husband to thee wed.

Nothing fences just these senses,
lost are all those false defenses,
sitting here as on a cliff
watching all the fumes that lift.

I am husband to this marriage
pushing now this gruesome carriage
near the edge its wheels I place
and look upon, sad muted face.


Flowers like soft butter,
spill and spread like honey
from the heart.
A red brick wall accepts
their soft touch,
like a quiet lake does Sun
that sets its last, light-across.
And a moment is saved
between thorns that prick,
and pierce.
Like a kiss that happened,
early one spring,
like a bird that sits
by the window
and sings,
or a cloud, like fabric
soaked in dyes
swimming an ocean known as sky...its worth defies...all the lies.


It's the beauty of the dance,
it's the beauty of the song.
It's the movement that inspires,
love for which we long.
It's the passion in the words,
it's the way they are sung.
It's the feeling we can feel,
when those feelings, they are one.

It's the struggle for that moment,
that will never disappear.
It's the movement in the music,
that brings the moment near.
It's the pain of the past,
and the dream that survives.
It's that moment in-between,
that lets the heart, lets it fly.

It's the beauty in the dance,
it's the beauty in the song.
It's that beauty in the music,
and that dream to carry on.
It's Our Song.

It's the passion it's the pain,
it's the wind it's the rain.
It's Our Song.
It's the heart that wants to fly,
it's the wings that take it high.
It's Our Song.
It's all that we can feel,
that makes the beauty real.
It's Our song.

It's one moment that survives
in this dream that comes alive
in the beauty of the dance,
that's Our Song.


No greater is the gift,
when no greater is the need.
No greater is that time to share,
no greater it's received.
No greater is the words,
no greater is the deed.
No greater are friends who care,
and feelings, greater pleased.


Today I climb all mountains,
I sing with the birds.
I play all instruments,
make sounds never heard.

I am very smart at business,
and the poetry I write,
covers every circumstance,
from black to the white.

I am the Christian Science building,
and the trees in Mattapan.
I am the Sun that rises east,
the eyes the sky will scan.

I am the beggar and the path,
the leaves the wind has tossed.
Today I will do everything,
though I with legs still crossed.

I'll sit upon a log that fell,
or chair or friend the rock.
Perhaps I'll fly an airoplane,
or maybe be the Hawk.

I know I'll do whatever is,
whatever one will do.
Just like the clouds that pass the pine,
they pass the acorn too.

And so it is this day I feel,
a fly upon my hand,
who stays with me while I write,
with pencil what I can.

And though I am in the wood,
where chipmunks are abound.
And far away from all the noise,
we have given sound.
I'll do whatever will be done,
this day I share with you.
Knowing well I'll feel the pains,
of climbing Everest too.


Look an evening butterfly,

with my life I will defend.

Some may call it just a moth,

but I this message send.

It is an evening Butterfly,

though no rainbow on its wing.

It has the wings of butter,

like no other flutter-ing.

Yes an evening butterfly,

in the light to which it's drawn.

Wanting to be near us,

like a love 'til it's dawn.

Yes my precious Butterfly,

with my life I will defend.

Until my friends they see you as,

the Butterfly you've been.


Take me to an opera, and to the ballet.
Let me see what I've been missing,
while I've been away.
Take me where I've never been,
that oasis you might say.
Take me to an opera, and to the ballet.

Dress me in a new soft hat,
a brand new shirt and tie.
Let me feel the silk you wear,
dance the night good-bye.
Let me feed you chocolates,
in kisses we might share.
Let me show you where I've been,
let me take you there.
I'll take you where the moon still drips,
even though it's day.
I'll show you where some treasures are,
and where those treasures lay.
Just take me to the ballet!

I've eaten from the apple,
the one that wasn't ripe.
And let the juice from the peach,
drip instead of wipe.
Take me while I'm in-between,
where I've never been.
And maybe we will meet on top,
this mountain we ascend.
Just take me to the ballet!

Take me where I've never been,
that oasis you might say.
Take me to an opera, and to the ballet.
Let me feed you chocolates,
in kisses we might share.
Let me show you where I've been,
let me take you there.
I'll take you where the moon still drips,
even though it's day.
I'll show you where the treasures are,
and where those treasures lay.
Just take me to the ballet!

I fell in love three times today,
one more time than yesterday,
that's O.K.

Four times was the day before,
tomorrow maybe will be more,
who can say?

'Cause when I meet someone I find,
my heart just wants to make them mine,
that's my way.

'Cause I fell in love once fifteen times,
and that before the clock struck nine,
what a day!

So glad to meet you, gee you're looking well,
I know that I love you, 'cause my heart I know just fell.
Maybe see you later, maybe we can dance,
'cause today I'm feeling lots of love,
and ready for romance.

Rachel River, what a name!
Rachel do you, feel the same?
'Cause today I fell in love three times
but tonight I'd like to make you mine.
Rachel stay, Rachel stay, Rachel stay.


I can't wait for the moon to say it's alright,
not with the feelings I'm having tonight.
How can I do that when love's on my mind,
and my heart is full all of the time.

They say the moon drives people crazy,
crazy for love filled with desire,
but I say it's life, and life is the fire
that burns while the moon is nowhere in sight.

It doesn't matter if the tide is low
when the banks of my being they overflow.
I can't wait for the moon to say it's alright,
not with the feelings I'm having tonight.

I walk in the dark with a rainbow inside,
that changes colors not seen with the eyes,
but I can feel it as sure as the ground at my feet,
and I marvel at movements and silence it keeps.

And I wonder like those who may look at the stars,
and feel their vibrations from right where they are,
and it makes me sad still others can't see
who wait for the moon for this feeling to be.

I can't wait for the moon to say it's alright,
not with the feelings I'm having tonight.


They were the sweetest lips,
lips so rare.
Thinly set, pressed
with care.

Their touch aroused,
the Gods who slept.
And all the Angels, joyful wept.

For never was there
such a kiss,
whose tenderness brought
such bliss.

For in that kiss
the heart it burned,
with such affection,
it was turned.

And when that night
met the day,
the God of Rainbows,
was to sway.

For when the Sun
peaked its light,
the sky was lit,
from such a night.

And as the morning
came to pass,
that kiss seemed
to last and last.

Until the sky began
to clear,
the God of Rainbows
did appear.

His heart stretched
across the sky,
bent with colors
side by side.

For there He was,
so in love,
He showed it all,
right above.

And when that day
began to close,
the Rainbow went
where no one knows.

But...every now and then
it comes, and when it does
you know it's from,
a kiss so rare it is THE ONE,
that bends the Rainbow,
around the Sun.

On May 28th 1997, I finished this poem THE KISS. On May 29th I read this poem to a friend, and asked her if the ending was all right. She said she thought it was. I then looked up at the Sun, and, yes, there was a Rainbow, around it.


When my eyes first opened
you were near.
I knew that voice,
it was you I could hear.
You were pleased to see me,
and I felt your joy.
And it wouldn't have mattered,
if I was girl or boy.

And I felt your touch
that I felt while inside,
and now I could feel,
what I felt was your pride.
And you fed me and bathed me,
and gave me your love.
And you asked for nothing,
just did it because.

You taught me and caught me
whenever I'd fall.
You raised me and praised me
as I now recall.
And when it was time
you said I must go,
but you did it for me,
so wisdom I'd know.
And I am what I am,
and do what I do,
but only because,
I had a Mother like you.

So I write this song
for all that has past,
between then and now,
even though you don't ask.
But I want you to know
with words never said,
taking it for granted
you just knew it instead.

But I knew it was time,
when the Sun woke me up,
and these words kept on flowing,
like an over filled cup.
Because here it is, that time in May,
set aside, for you when you gave,
in birth a life, that now wants to say,
thank you I love you, Happy Mothers Day.

Happy Mothers Day,
Happy Mothers Day.
Thank you I love you
for these words I can say.
Thank you I love you
you showed me the way.
Thank you I love you
Happy Mothers Day.

An apple, some flowers,
a touch of the hand.
Eyes that look, without having
a plan.
A few special gifts, no less
are they than,
a horse in a field, reflecting
moonlight on land.

In order to live as oneself,
one must be as one self.

To find oneself, stop looking.

Disappointments are really
just interruptions.

An interruption is that place
just before the tide swings.

Only machines become dysfunctional.

A skin head is a hippies head,
turned inside out.

What one considers bad for them,
might one day save their lives.

The bird that flies the highest,
doesn't always see the furthest.

To know what it's like to see like a lion,
one must be eaten by one.

The cow eaten last night,
inside still moos.

Everything eats the other.

I guess a fish doesn't know when it's fried.

Letting go means, STOP trying to control

No resistance means, allowing what one

Today the path of least resistance, is a path
with many restrictions.

When homeless, the palace gates
swing open.

In the smoke,
yin and yang balance themselves.

Being plagiarized, is like saying,
you were the first bird to fly.

The cloud that hides the Sun,
does so for your own good.

That reflection in the mirror, is distorted.

Distortion is a reality of abstractions.

Conflict is a confusion of atoms.

Atoms that get pregnant, have really tiny

If your feeling empty inside, you're not.

Happiness comes from liking what you do.

The snow flake that becomes a water snake,
is like the catapilar that becomes the butterfly.

The toe that peeks through the end of
your sock, is the toe that sees first hand.

When one asks, what have I done with my
life? What we haven't done, stares us in
the eyes.

Time makes liars of us all.

To punish is likened to the snake
that eats its own tale.

The devil you see, is the devil you are.

Whales beach themselves.

Those who take on the world raise
themselves, while those who take on
themselves, raise the world.

In between flowers groomed with care,
the wild flower, simply blossoms.

Weaving in and out of light,
touching day touching night,
even with profound insight,
we find ourselves between in spite.

Love is, that which is left,
after all has been taken.
Yes, love is, the leftover!


Love is all I have,
no more no more.
Love is all I have,
no more no more.
But if it's love that you want,
love you're looking for,
I won't keep what I have,
no more no more.

There was a man,
who wanted a wife.
A fair looking man,
you might say was quite.
But he had no job,
not a stitch left in life,
so he wrote this song,
'cause he knew it was right.


And this song was written,
during the Nineteen Nineties,
for the men like him,
who had lost everything,
And he meant it for those,
who might want to sing,
to catch a heart,
with this offering.


And it's true today,
as it was just then.
For hearts like that,
are still wandering.
Trying to find another,
who will listen to them.
So the words from this poet,
will be sung time again.



'Tis a night that speaks softly,
as music that plays, and snow
that falls.

'Tis a night for the artist to capture,
as the mood the
poet writes.

'Tis a night each holds together,
like a breath
momentarily forgotten.

'Tis a night for subtle advances,
as stars that shimmer above
pregnant clouds.

'Tis a night that speaks softly

One day the Buddha asked his Guru, "Guru Dan, what is the secret?" Quickly, Guru Dan said, "If you smile, you can't frown." The Buddha, not being so quick, then went to sit under a tree. He did so for several years, to think about that. Until finally its truth illuminated him.


I first saw this painting early in 1996. It was part of an article that was brought to my attention by a friend who also makes a little 2" high white bear for me. What fascinated me most were the circles drawn around the white bear's heart. Right then I knew I had to talk to the artist. I reached the artist (Merielle Sioui, a Huron Wendat) later that evening. I asked her about the painting, why the white bear joined with the turtle, and why the circles drawn about the bear's heart. She said, the painting had it's own particular meaning or message. The white bear represents our star system the Milky Way, the turtle the Earth, the circles drawn around the white bear's heart the power of love, and by joining the two together shows just how intimate this relationship is.

I then told her of my own visions concerning the white bear and turtle. The turtle came to me in the latter part of 1993, and the white bear early in 1994, thus corroborating this message.

So it is I share these works with you.

Build your canoe
take it for a ride.
Stay on the fringes,
let go step aside.
The big ship is filled,
to capacity,
but for those with canoe,
they will still be free.

Wolf lady takes her walk,
voices from behind.
Turns around no one's there,
just trees so she finds.
Walks to the river,
sits on a rock.
Buffalo flowing by,
as if it had been stalked.
She hears another voice,
behind where she sits.
"They will never control me"
so final, that was it.
When there in the water,
a man in his canoe.
Flowing with the buffalo,
down the river too.

Build your Canoe!

The Forward

Book I
A Wish For You
Book II
In Fields Alive
Book III
Happy Rain
Book IV
Cool Nights
Book V
Just Blues
Book VI
The Spin
Book VII
It's Our Song

The Afterward

Copyright © 1995 Revised 1997 D. C. Bianchino. All rights reserved.
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