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dusk to dawn

dusk daydream of blinding buildings lengths and hollows
fade mothers kissing children close and moths lose wings
no severance to function the doubtless empty fucking sea
a remedy willow tree full tilt sings a praise of brevity late
safe shadows sulk silky ribbons nesting a poison fountain
the murder of licks and barrows ache the tender pacing feet
nothing comes and goes like this deathly shiver hosted heart
bodies mulching moving bathing breathing burning shivers
a bending hysterically folding neat menthol tasting daybreak
schemes slide reams toward dreams crass fade love tonight
the worst radical radio signals adieu movie screen sanctions
it’s a waste of time predication facial recognition semantics
thresholds of man folds clouds under rugs and seeming lies
tape coiled under plastic makes tales and fables of past crimes
a prick of the womb shell dormancy lilting meek babies eyes
lay quiet the fright a room in riot slay shacks on raping edge
the left corner hands cruel penetration slave femininity time
words impede shouting prisms cold leaves or grass eaves late
the dreaming symptoms worse the right wall hole cut through
blackened fuel on faces that writhe dirt on mud money hue
the world blue stealing dreaming days bedlam a new dawn.

(C)2011 Christopher Vaughn

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About Christopher Vaughn

Born in Allentown, Pennsylvania in 1971 and moved all over the world as a military brat, my first venture into writing occurred in my heart early in childhood when I became obsessed with science fiction books by Jules Verne, Dan O Bannen, Isaac Asimov and Ray Bradbury. It was early elementary school when I discovered Robert Frost and his pen struck me. I was wanting to be in the worlds he painted. After several honors English classes and more obsessive reading of Madeleine L'Engle and Stephen King, I knew writing was a calling. In the 80's I was also enamored with electronic bands Depeche Mode and Front 242 and seminal bands like Skinny Puppy and Click Click which influenced my writing as well. In the 90's I was transformed when I discovered Clive Barker, he was the total package. Artist, Painter, Sculptor, Writer, Poet, Director...I became a survivalist writer. A term I coined by the nature of writing through feeling...letting go of the negative and hurt. Which if you are a poet, is what you do. It's not all just about creative churning. It's letting out what you feel inside of you. I continue to write poetry, short stories and lyrics to survive...

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