Malcolm Jamal Warner 1970 - 2025: In Memoriam

Reflections in Face 491

Cassone 041825 01

YOU'RE ON MY MIND - poem by Antonio Cassone

Raindrops falling down, down, down

Streams flowing evermore to my heart
My countenance reads a frown
The longer we're apart

Too deep I had fallen for you
You said you'd never hurt me
Our love was steady and true
But I had to leave you to be free

You're on my mind
The days seem to fly by
Nights so long
No matter how hard I try

My new life has started
There is so much promise
Ever since we parted
I had to reach in and be honest

The thoughts I have for you on my mind
The feelings bottled up inside my heart
The words of expression so hard to find
The destiny was for us to be apart

Copyright © Antonio Cassone – All Rights Reserved

Antonio Cassone

photo by Matt Hazzard

Cassone - Reflections in Face 004

CASSONE 2009

Cassone - Reflections in Face 003

ANTONIO CASSONE

promo, 2002

photo by Matt Hazzard

Diva/Cassone: A Collection of Poetry - The Reconstruction Edition by Antonio Cassone

 

In their seventh publication (a reproduction of their first volume of poetry with selected new works), Antonio Cassone breathes new life into the original work and shares even more insights about life and paying tribute to special people in the author’s life.  The book covers a wide array of topics.  Nature, divas, friendship, toxic relationships, politics are covered in this work.  Throughout are various selections about diverse forms of love – being in it, discovering it, losing it, desiring ‘thug’ passion and the ecstatic heat from it, fatal lust and even the death of love itself.  Included is a mini-collection, ”The FLIP Series,” along with a few individual ones about a gay man’s desire for a ‘straight’ or heterosexual man in their life that he can’t ‘be with’ and the repressed feelings that go with it – in order to save face and at least have a friendship.  As is custom with Cassone’s previous works there are many tributes.  The living tributes are to an NBA basketball player, a MMA fighter, several legendary entertainers from Detroit’s female impersonation circuit, a lady who is like a second mother, a couple of impressive past co-workers, the Performers Awards of Detroit & Cassone’s friend for nearly 30 years, Diva Kingsley.  There are also several tributes to those who have passed on including friends, parents of friends who inspired the writer and a “very dear one” with a back story from the author’s blog.  Finally, Cassone’s commemorative 9/11 poem, Tears Shrouded in Shards of Debris, also along with a back story article; a comedic piece about The Milk Man, contemporary women, a sermon and a visit to Hell cement the variety of this collection.  It is rounded out with a couple of answers to where it all comes from (the inspiration) for the artist. Born and raised in Detroit, now living in Fort Lauderdale, Cassone brings you this collection of poetic works as a “heart-piece” from the gracious writer to you, their ever accepting and growing readership.

This book is Available in both Paperback and Kindle Edition formats. Click here to visit the book's Page on Amazon. Thank you!

Behind the Lens 007 - The Scene by Scene Shoot Frames by C.A. McKenzie, 2005

These are the finished, final produced shots from the 2005 set from my work with photographer C.A. McKenzie. I loved the frame effects.

Model, Makeup, Hair & Wardrobe Styling: Antonio Cassone
Photographer: C.A. McKenzie for McKenzie Bros. Photography

Behind the Lens 006 - A Few Stragglers I Liked from the Scene by Scene Shoot by C.A. McKenzie

These five photos propelled me during my move, in 2006, from my hometown of Detroit to Fort Lauderdale. From my session with C.A. McKenzie back in 2005, these shots captured the essence of my entertainment and art at the time - insofar as being an entertainer. This was back when I was still 'Miranda Davison' and the concentration of my art focused more on the female impersonation act, rather than where it is now with the books, photography, videos and spoken word recordings - and now I go by Cassone, or my given name, Antonio Cassone - to put myself under the one umbrella was a huge step for me both professionally and personally. While a lot has changed, the basics stay the same - no matter what I am doing, I strive to do it well enough to entertain each and every one of you. YAY!

Photography by C.A. McKenzie, for McKenzie Bros. Photography; 2005

Model, Hair, Makeup & Wardrobe Styling: Antonio Cassone

Singing to a Beat of My Own Drummer

Intensity

Vivacious Headshot

You Sly Devil, You

Joy & Happiness

My NEW Author Page at Amazon.com

You haven't arrived until...

I am so excited and pleased to announce and bring to you my author page at Amazon.com.

CLICK HERE to check it out!

Thanks and enjoy...

Also, pretty soon you will be able to see my blog there too at Amazon, as well as trailers for my books!

YAY!

The Stalker Blues

The Stalker Blues

Trade trade go away
Never ever return to me
Never darken my door again
Leave me the hell alone; set me free

You're simply, very simply: No Good!
Now I see you never were, really
I gave in like you knew I would
Fear was my given theory

Men like you don't care
You are just toxic
Taking from within me
Urges are what make you tick

You think your body is enough
Feel like you're all that
Doin' me - forced: in a rush
I deserve better, as a matter of fact

Showing up at my place
Disturbing the peace
All up in my face
Next time, I'm calling the police

You threaten merely by your presence
You're obsessive, callous and cruel
Making faces, tongue flickering lies with a vengeance
Thinking I must be some kind of fool

Brief encounters are all we had, and you know it
Just a few seem to come to mind in this fable
You have illusions about us; you can't deny it
Wanting me to play your game of happy couple

In truth, I have been nothing more than a depository
I wonder in angst when you will leave me alone
I barely sleep, with one eye fixed open - firmly
Knife under bed, wooden spoon in tow; one ear to phone

Why do you cause so much drama, confusion and strife?
Wither into the murky depths of cloud funk you rode in on
I need to move on and up and forward, get on with my life
Not be mired down, depressed, agonized and withdrawn

As you grab my hair with big hands; you touch - rashly
I scold you to go on, get on... as if to the dog you are
Do you think I consider you friend now, let alone family?
The more you follow the more I hide away near and far

It's over, you messed it up; I'm droppin' you like a bad habit
Just go, go on...get out; would you just go away?
Disappear...; you pushed and I have reached my limit
Just leave me alone; that is my wish for today.

Antonio Cassone

Copyright 2009 © Antonio Cassone
All Rights Reserved - Antonio Cassone

Falling

Sometimes I feel like I am falling

It’s a dark, cold and quiet place

Clawing and clinging to the nothingness of air

At a rapid and intense pace



Endless, it seems, as I try to analyze

Why this is happening to me

And why I don’t just let it be

Just accept this and fall, feeling free



Forget that, I just can’t be

I refuse to be fearful and crippled

My heart aching and soul riddled

I tire of feeling stuck in a rut, in the middle



Eyes wide open now, I search and seek

For a light, that I may or may not find

Twisting and turning, body thrusting on a wind

Carefree of what is truly on my mind



Sometimes I hear your soothing voice calling

And even though I feel I am failing at the race

Grabbing and grasping to the hopefulness out there

Receiving your forgiveness and abundance of grace


Copyright ©2009 Antonio Cassone - All Rights Reserved

Prepared Awareness (Excerpt 1 of 5 from "The Naked Window: Exposed/Revelations")

My memoir series continued with a combo of books (seasons) 3 & 4 in The Naked Window: Exposed/Revelations. Remember the premise: What if your life were a made-for-television drama series (or, in my case made-for-cable)? It is where the books are referred to as seasons and the chapters are episodes ...from my life story. Here I bring to you a passage from Season 3, Episode 1 Prepared Awareness.

~

So, one stormy Saturday afternoon the beginning of October that year, as I sat in Tiger's lavish apartment overlooking Grand Circus Park...I had a moment. It came crashing down on me quick and in fierce fashion. Tiger was cooking another fabulous meal in the kitchen and I was in the bedroom looking out the window, suddenly it dawned on me that my father was definitely going to die and very soon. I felt so childlike. I wanted so much to be a kid again.

As difficult as my childhood was, as much as I felt belittled and put into a petrified state on that yellow school bus and all the pent up sexuality and hands touching me when I didn't want them to and wanting to touch when I couldn't; in that instant I wished for it all again. Even though I really was ready, I didn't feel ready for that bitter truth. Sure, my mother would be somewhat okay financially. He made sure she would, but I would still have to be the one. Be the man of the house. Can you imagine how I felt in that one moment in time?

Crippled.

Devoid of any kind of wit.

I was so glad that Tiger didn't walk in on me and disturb the moment. True friends have a way of knowing when to give you your moment. Lord knows, my father had passed the baton of manhood to me years ago. It happened one spring morning when he was going through man-o-pause, as I like to call it. Oh, for days he was really giving Mom a hard time and even though, at first, it was from years of pent up frustration, but as much as my mother could have been a hindrance she was a blessing - especially to him.

They had a very strange and strong love for and with one another. It is a love that I have envied in my adult life - to be that into one another, at that level of intensity and it not be based on sex. It was purely spiritual and very emotional for both. They would laugh, cry, yell, cry and laugh during a fierce argument or an intensified conversation, but it always ended in laughter. My God, it was like watching a dance seeing the two of them. So, when things started to go in another direction for a bit when I was like sixteen, I didn't like it.

The fire had happened, so there was that added pressure and you already know my mother didn't work, so a lot of the financial burden rested on his lap. However, he enabled that behavior and my mother did keep our home together, paid all the bills, took care of his business, saw that his clothes were cleaned, cooked memorable meals. Sure, I was given a lot of tasks to do, but she made sure between the two of us he wasn't bothered by much of the house issues. And as time went on and she got out of her funk, she got better at being a wife and mother. That's the woman I wished my siblings would have witnessed coming into her own.

So, this one particular Sunday, we were all preparing dinner in the kitchen and my dad was getting a little out of hand with disrespectful comments to my mother and she'd fire back, but after while he just went on and on. I just sat there wanting to punch his lights out. Hey, she had her flaws, but he was talking about my mother! So, I asked him what his problem was. Well, he wasn't having any of that and before I knew it we were toe to toe in the kitchen ready to box. My mother was beside herself, trying to break us up. Honey, we ended up in the pantry and I wasn't giving in.

I told him I was too big to whip, so now what? He didn't need to talk to her like that when he helped to make her who she was. He needed to get over whatever uphill battle he felt the need to be battling at the time. I told him maybe pimpin' some prostitute might put his house in order, if he was thinking about steppin' out on Mom, "then do it and be done with it, but you better never let her find out about it." We were choking each other, practically wrestling - neither willing to let go.

"That's the problem, I can't...I won't do that." He said he had always been faithful to her. There was no physical release for him. There was no getting past her comments anymore and the romance just wasn't where it was before. Then we were just standing there in the pantry talking about their relationship like I was a sex therapist. My mother was disgusted and said she was disappointed in both of us.

"You, Tony, I can actually kind of understand, but you..." With one look she left the room and the wuss was back. He went right after her and they worked out whatever the hell that was about. I often wondered about my father trying to get with some younger chick. I mean this was right on the heels of Aunt Priscilla and her little discovery from hell, so it was on the subconscious at least. I just stood there bewildered and once I composed myself, I finished peeling the potatoes.

About an hour or so later, my Dad and I were on the front porch laughing and carrying on, comparing boxing scorecards. He said I was his son, indeed. He would stick up for his mother, too. He said he bet I thought he had lost his mind. I thought I had disrespected him. He told me, far from it - I gained his respect. See, where he came from it was almost commonplace to go a few rounds in the garage with Uncle Steve, who practically raised my dad and uncles after my grandfather had a crippling stroke and eventually died. Then we went on joking and talking about the Detroit Tiger's game. It was weird and delightful all at once and he was okay towards my mother after that.

So, fast forward to Tiger's bedroom October 1995, I stood there quietly crying to myself that my father would be gone soon and I would have to prepare myself for that fact. It's not like I didn't know. I mean he had been sick for such a long time, but it just came crashing down on me right then and there. What was I going to do? I certainly wouldn't be able to chase my theatrical dreams without his support. At the time, my mother was very supportive, but there was a little something holding her back. He, on the other hand, was all the way in my corner. He wanted me to fulfill things he only dreamt of doing on the stage. Too bad he wasn't able to share in the little success I was having at the time.

So, as time went on over the next week and a half I carried on. I watched my mother labor over taking care of him. When he was coherent he spoke gibberish most of the time and we would get a nervous laugh or two on his behalf. Her lady friends, Mary, Irene and Genevieve were all great sounding boards. My brother, Sean, started to come over more and more and that was good to see and good for me to have a sibling on my side. I went to work. I went to rehearsal. I even had a date with Blue. And I had a date with Ken.

They were great for the body and emotionally it was nice to just lay in bed with a man, any man and both did their best to provide a chest to lay my head upon.

Usually, sex with them was fast, hectic and raunchy to the hilt - which was fabulous, Mary, but then - at that time - they just provided much needed tenderness. It was very natural and not what I expected from either of my booty call, (expletive deleted for this post) buddies. They both told me I was much more to them than that. I had personality. I was deep. Intense. I told Blue I didn't need any more responsibility right then. He told me, as he caressed my shoulders ever so gently.

"Just go with it. Be prepared. Be aware and you will know what to do next. It will just come to you, man."

Like my mother said, help - whether financially or fundamentally - comes from the sources we least suspect and Blue's mere utterance helped me tremendously.

My eyes were wide open and I was seeing the forest for the trees for the very first time.

I was becoming...

_________________________________

The Naked Window: Exposed/Revelations 2-in-1 combo is available at Amazon CLICK HERE and other fine online retailers.

...And Deeds (Excerpt 5 of 5 from "Looking through the Naked Window," book 1 of the memoir)

These vignettes are from chapter/episode 23... in book/season 1 of the memoir series.

____

In my sordid, sometimes triumphant life there have been many deeds. There have been the dirty deeds and then there are those wonderful acts of kindness. They're nice when on the receiving end, but even more redeeming when on the giving end.

~~~~~

Lance, my first, so-called ex-lover has been on my mind a lot lately. You lovers of the world know what influences those first loves have on us, be damned what they did in the past. Hell, we all have a past. I know I certainly do. Over the years though, during our multiple episodes of being high profile guest stars in each other's lives, we have always come back together and picked up where we left off. Remember when I said I left Lance originally, because I wanted to feel something for my mate. That was a half-truth then, which has snowballed into my very own personal foolishness.

You see, all along I really didn't want to feel. It was always too sexually charged. If it wasn't an explosive and head-banging (literally) experience, I wanted nothing to do with it. That was then, so when Lance and I were going together I became bored with him and his comfort zone, as far as our relations were concerned. Then, we can't forget Jimmie, who took the whole sex thing to another level. He became boring due to his constant repetitions. Allen was always a buddy. So, there you have the first three of my relationships. I remind you, they were all one-sided and as I told my dear friend, Pam, recently, as I toked long and hard on another ruthless cigarette... I, yes, I have never been in a true relationship.

I have lived a lie.

~~~~~

I wrote Lance a letter about a month and a half ago. It’s been about three years since I had seen him and I was wondering how he was doing and I will admit, I missed being with him. Sure enough, he got the letter and we got together for a very nice, intimate evening. I have seen him twice in the week and a half surrounding the holiday. Yes, before and after Thanksgiving, I was having a little more holiday cheer than I had anticipated and it was wonderful. Why? Because, of the differences. Now I like the familiarity. Now I feel like being ...familiar.

~~~~~

It was funny having all the company I had over the holiday weekend.

It felt good, but whenever somebody ate something or sat down or touched something, I'd say. "Oh Pam got that for me" or "Diva did that for me."

Not that I hadn't realized it before, but what would people like me do without kind people in our lives and their acts of kindness and good deeds.

We would be naked.

Pam, Diva and people like Colleen and those at my church, St. Leo's, like Mary Ann or Angela; my friends like Shad and Marshall and even people like Tiger - they live the Beatitudes from the Bible. None of them are particularly 'religious' people, although a couple of them go to church and participate in their community a lot more than some of the others...it doesn't matter. It is the simple fact that they all have one thing in common. They have very little themselves, but have enough of the "Spirit" in them to give what they can, do what they can for those of us who had or have found themselves in a tighter spot in life.

~~~~~

Don't get me wrong; I have been a giver all my life, but primarily for all the wrong reasons - usually, to impress a guy. Because, you see, for as many men as I have considered lover there have been those who are "friends" past and present whom I have wanted quite desperately, but never landed that proverbial lay in the hay. Not that it would have been a big deal, but it was just that I equated love with sex for a long time. I have a lot of love for these guys to this day, but it hadn't reached its fullest potential because we hadn't done the deed, as it were. My dealing with them has been a major part in my turning point and responsible largely for where I am now in my life.

~~~~~

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Little does he know, even though we never 'related' with one another, he is one of the reasons I now keep a low-profile on the night club scene. When you see how people act and hear what they say about him after he walks past their fake grins on their false countenances, it makes one like me think - "I never want to be thought of that way." And I have maintained that respect over the years. As big of a whore as I was in the past, I never carried myself as such. That's the difference between him and me. Call it an educated read, but when you call it like it is seen and when we become honest with ourselves, honey, and you figure out - well, that's not somebody you'd want to be with anyway because sure it may be a cool sexual experience, but at what cost and while it may be a big deal to you we all know it means next to nothing to men like him of the world.

~~~~~

I have also learned that deeds always outweigh any act you put on or any string of words you can put together in a perfectly created phrase.

-----

Looking through the Naked Window: The Restoration Chronicles (Volume 1) is available in both Paperback and Kindle Editions for purchase at http://www.amazon.com/Looking-through-Naked-Window-Restoration/dp/1484950933/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

Check us out on YouTube – Please Subscribe (It’s Free!)http://www.youtube.com/cassone2007
Check out Antonio Cassone’s Author Page on Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B003OC3MME
Thank YOU!

Acts (excerpt 4 of 5) from "Looking through the Naked Window" (book 1 of the memoir)

These passages are from episode 21: "Acts"

~~~~~~

Tiki and Natalie had since witnessed the birth of their beautiful daughter. They were still living their thugged out fantasia, but something was about to put a damper on the whole thing. He no longer worked at the mail sorting company and I had since quit for the eighth time and was simply going to college and working my college work study job and at the burger joint. I got a call from an ex-co-worker, who told me he saw Tiki on a crime show, stating he was wanted - make that Most Wanted.

Well, you know me; I simply got in my car and drove over to his house. I had stayed away for about a year because I was steady with someone else and besides I thought whatever fling he and I had was over and done with and left him to his Natalie and their baby and their common-law wedded, parental bliss. Ah, but how things suddenly change. Natalie had gotten a little selfish with the daughter and was spending more time at her parent’s home.

Tiki and Gramps argued more and more. Tiki was almost psychotic when he discussed Natalie and his grandfather to me, when I came over unannounced. That is unlike me. I usually always call first, but I knew Tiki needed someone to listen to him and he was very happy to see me. Yes, very happy, very drunk, twice as high and extremely horny. Little did I know, I was not only in for a long night (that was actually a good thing, as I needed a long night at that point), but it would be the last time I would see him for many, many years.

~~~~~

I cheated - and I cheated - and I cheated.

Yes, I admit it. Hell, I've gone this far. Why not own up to all of it? Why hold back now? Shame forbade me from telling this before. Not only because of where - that was bad enough, the symbolism, but because of my ability to conceal it from my lovers, family and friends. Nobody ever knew, nor would they if I weren't telling them right here and right now.

If you haven't figured out my memoirs by now, it is an attempt to wipe my own slate clean. I know I am not the most perfect person in the world. Who is? I don't think, my dear friend, you realize how addicted I was to sex. Even now, I have to watch myself. I doubt you could, nor would you really want to, put a finger on how much of a slut and whore and sinner I have been. Guilt... Guilt has pretty much been the ruler of my life for a very long time. It comes from not only being raised Catholic, but from the acts - the many acts - I have committed in my life.
I only scratched the surface with my mother about it. I couldn't get too much past her, though. I think she prayed for my soul enough for ten lifetimes, God bless her, but I have still lived with my guilt and my snowball, my avalanche of lies and concealment of my whorish lifestyle. I made gay people look bad, because not all of them are as much of a ho as I have been. However, I have come so far from that now that it only makes sense to apologize for my shortcomings and ask for forgiveness.

Repent.

The men - they didn't care. That was part of the problem. I am not pointing the finger, but boy did they partake in the situation at hand and had no problem with it whatsoever. Oh, the sins that line ones soul runs deep and grows ever wide. It surprises even me the memories I have of the many tricks of the trade that took place in the auditorium at that holy place. I took advantage of that situation, pure and simple, and nobody ever knew...

Or did they...?

*

Were the hall's lined with eyes
Yes, the eye of God
But His eyes looked upon me with mercy,
And I looked away in shame and cried...

~~~~~

He was a man on the run. He had issues. Plus, he didn't want to start something with me he couldn't finish. He said I made him feel uncomfortable. Not discomfortable, but uncomfortable in a way it was bad for him. He didn't want to "start up" something with me. He was very angry with himself and started berating me at that point. I was like what in Sam's hell was wrong with him?

It wasn't me and even though I did I shouldn't have taken it personally, but he abruptly ended our visit and pretty much threw me out of his house. He told me I should stay away from there for a while that he did something, but he couldn't help it and that he would surely be arrested soon. I couldn't imagine what he could have done and how things could have fallen so quickly into the shit hole he found himself in. Whatever it was, it was serious and, even he said, I wanted nothing to do with him.

He was right.

A little time passed and before I knew it he was calling me collect ...from jail.

I said, "What the hell have you done?"

-----

Looking through the Naked Window: The Restoration Chronicles (Volume 1) is available in both Paperback and Kindle Editions for purchase at http://www.amazon.com/Looking-through-Naked-Window-Restoration/dp/1484950933/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

Check us out on YouTube – Please Subscribe (It’s Free!)http://www.youtube.com/cassone2007
Check out Antonio Cassone’s Author Page on Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B003OC3MME
Thank YOU!

And Things of That Nature, a poem by Antonio Cassone

We went around and around
Because we were playing tag
Games
And things of that nature

We used to hang out, tough
Had fun
Listen to each other
And things of that nature

What happened?
Who got in between?
What frustrates you, frustrates me
You know I can see so clearly

What you don't want to
And others, there are too many others
In the circle
Of this madness

But you know the truth
Was our truth, my proof of your burden's wager
And how you fussed and lied and manipulated
And things of that nature

Antonio Cassone
Copyright ©2009 Antonio Cassone - All Rights Reserved

Through the Darkness, a poem by Antonio Cassone

Through the Darkness

Fade to black
Eyes wide open
Looking, searching, seeking
Feeling, ...touching

Push and pull ...me
Struggle, only to give in
Innocence means nothing
When you chose my destiny

Giving in, only to fight back
One last ditch effort,
To find the strength I lack

Feeling nothingness

Wondering when it will end
Hoping it will...
My anger grows
Due to your selfish need

Plead, I refuse to anymore
Because now you're gone
Just a distant memory
Never to be reunited

There was a day...
I received a letter...
It spoke of your death
I suddenly, eerily felt better

Years, fears and more years
Laughing through the tears
Faking it when thinking it was love
Sought out some sort of savior from above

Poked, prodded, fondled
Wondering if I actually am who I am
Never an apology
Not even a recognition

Nothing will replace the innocence you took from me
But now..., now with time and your passing on
I have never felt more relief
Finally able to let what you did go

Through the darkness I looked up and saw the light
And in the distance I thought I heard you calling
I didn't look back, I just kept walking
I never will you see, loosed from your chains...

I am finally free

© 2009 Antonio Cassone - All Rights Reserved

from the upcoming book Ramblings from the Ragged Edge, by Antonio Cassone