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These leaves are brushing

Boisterous answers like plans

Man is boy stirring again

A grin is winning in his forever land

Took a glitter fair and pouring 

The million times you were not boring

A waking of feverish lips

Kissing hell and heaven in moments

The mirror kills the moisture 

Like a bus load of destinies 

Eyes in seats of gold 

This headless paper God remnant

Not his hands. Not his feet.

Never can there be a repeat.

Please take a seat. 

Dropping silhouettes and dreaming

Paragon surrendered 

Feathers to shoulders ache

The duke is still so very awake 

Not a minor development here

Toward the stars a dusty skill

A glow of brilliant bright fleeting teeth 

A chattering beneath 

To sea a free bird, a lad

Insane the reflection reversing

A birthing the man trembling but changing

Perfect in every single way 

Like he was every ordinary day

An oddity in a collective display 

The fading is only in an instant

Regality is persistently to be

Forever our David Bowie.
For the glorious Thin White Duke.
A tribute to one of the most influential artists to ever be.
(C) 2016 Christopher Vaughn


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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