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The Places We Call Home
Everlasting memories – those familiar places
we have known
embrace our soul during times when we
feel we are ... ∞ 
A Perfect Day
Summer writes the perfect poem as this day roams—gracefully.
Peacefully the descriptive imagery of euphoric clouds
gaze like lovers in ... ∞ 
Tarringo T. Vaughan always believed he had a love affair with literature. One of the first pictures he saw of himself was of him at maybe the age of three or four year’s old sitting with a book in his hand. But for Tarringo, growing up in the depths of the inner city both in [...]
FWC Cares Project
Look at me, standing here at the place we first met looking out at the rolling waves as the ocean breeze blows against my face. Thinking of you paints the masterpiece of our love as I gazed into your eyes at this very special place. Look...
Read moreWritten April 27th, 2013 from the thoughts that arrived at 5:35 A.M Eyes wide open inside the 37th dream of a lifetime, I am breathing — and as I lay within these minutes, the very minutes I breathed inside the bosom of my mother’s arms and...
Read moreArgument With A Poet As he studied my attention I refused to blink. He told me things about my- self I tried to keep hidden under a coffee stained American Eagle sweat shirt that found me on the Clarence rack. I told him to fuck off! But he continued...
Read moreThere we played, on the streets of youth where we were free of fear, free of tears and during times when life taught us the freedom to care. We were the innocent — children filled with dreams learning the art of growth while realizing that...
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Look at me, standing here at the place we first met looking out at the rolling waves as the ocean breeze blows against my face. Thinking of you paints the masterpiece of our love as I gazed into your eyes at this very special place. Look at me, sitting here in the sand where I first felt the warmth of your tender hand as we watched the seagull’s flying up above. I can still feel...
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Written April 27th, 2013 from the thoughts that arrived at 5:35 A.M Eyes wide open inside the 37th dream of a lifetime, I am breathing — and as I lay within these minutes, the very minutes I breathed inside the bosom of my mother’s arms and started to recognize a world ready to celebrate my life — a world that has nourished me through sacrifice and strengthened me through pain, yet, there is so...
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Argument With A Poet As he studied my attention I refused to blink. He told me things about my- self I tried to keep hidden under a coffee stained American Eagle sweat shirt that found me on the Clarence rack. I told him to fuck off! But he continued to weave his words through my intelligence. He was such an inspired bastard; cruelty bunched together in fifty-seven pages of brilliance. There was no winning against his intellectual abuse. So...
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There we played, on the streets of youth where we were free of fear, free of tears and during times when life taught us the freedom to care. We were the innocent — children filled with dreams learning the art of growth while realizing that everything around us wasn’t what it seemed but still we believed in hope, courage and our own ability to achieve — we were the future holding history tight in...
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Words Unsaid A heart once mute – tears of silence that at a young age just wouldn’t compute the confusion and delusions hidden within a soul held hostage by fear – for many years, so many words unsaid I just couldn’t find the expressive freedom to let out the emotions rampaging as confused thoughts inside my head. Truths unheard – locked behind the door of a closet with no room to breathe. Suffocating memories of a young boy...
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On Bended Knee Love, in the creation of a moment, kneeled down before me on bended knee and within it’s presence the sounds of steady winds drifting in from the rhymes and soul of a timeless sea held us breathless as the deepness of a smile captured me. Love, in the creation of a moment, took my hand as we stood in the sand, just the two of us all alone on a crowed beach, the same place where...
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One Of Many I am just one of many experiments who stand alone in rehearsed crowds lost in a maze of widowed daydreams trying to find tomorrow with transient eyes shut to the reality of yesterday. It is when I open my mind that I – not only see – but recognize that I am just one of many questions who camouflage as the answer trying to find a way out of the curiosities and possibilities locked and...
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Upon the Thought of My Demise It is upon the thought of my demise that I wonder if the memory of me shall wake into tomorrow’s sunrise or will I fade into the distant echoes of what once was — barely to be recognized. All I hope is the flowers laid down upon my life will stay fresh and beautiful in the hearts of those who knew me true. I want each rose to be a symbol of my...
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March, 2010 So many times I wanted to lay down this pen and let the words migrate back into silent barriers of a once broken expression; so many times I wanted to lock away this literary voice behind unbreakable chains with no way out but every time I tried I heard you whistling my name to continue on; I heard you challenging every emotion inside my creation to sing because what I wanted to keep hidden was something that...
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Sometimes The Rain There are times I walk through pouring rain with no umbrella to shield me from all that grieves the pain. The world watches me as I tremble through muddied cemented fields where sadness remains and scurry past landmarks studied through a mind of loneliness as I remember tears I never allowed to sweat as my hearts perspiration and this is my quiet inspiration. There are moments I stand still drenched in reality looking up at a...
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Steady moments blanketed on a canvas of time, fallen are the memories now scattered across sidewalks where the footprints of childhood once rhymed. We used to play back then, when solid trees Stood tall, but now only their leaves now lay. The beauty of innocence, now forgotten, once was the portrait of a wonderful display as each November we danced in the rain in our elements of youth before crime hit the city and dreams drifted off into just...
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She was a whistle sitting silently in front of corner store with her home wrapped openly around her exposing her life and the orchestra of her tears. But no one seemed to care as she was stepped over and stepped past Like an object just in the way. Everyone seemed to ignore what her eyes have to say. I stood there at a cross walk In the middle of June day with sweat dripping rapidly down the back of...
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Lost Ones I write for their eyes as I narrate the loneliness they feel from inside the of hidden identities that have become immersed within the transparent confusion of society’s delusion. Some are brave and stand alone on judgment’s concrete stone afraid to shine their difference in the dampened skies where hateful eyes plagiarize their souls to be ashamed of how they were born; some are young, abandoned and living in houses that don’t feel like home. They are trying to be clones of who they are told they have to be but in their hearts they just reach for the moment where they can be free and some are reminders of me—hidden sexuality searching for air and the right to breathe their own civil liberty. I write for their pride, their beauty and their strength I write for every emotion they feel they need to keep locked up Inside/afraid no one would understand; afraid there would be no one on their side and I write for their courage; the everyday journey of new discoveries and the celebration they will inherit by loving who they are because they will be loved. I write for them and I write for...
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A Letter To Him Dear Him, I once saw you standing on the corner once before/hidden in the mirrors of self-blame and masked by feelings of shame. You thought no one knew you; you thought no one heard the true language of your heart and you thought no one cared –at least that’s what you feared And now I see you standing free for the world to see— you have become a victory and now I see you breathing, relaxing and no longer suffocating inside feelings suppressed by the non-acceptance of ignorance that had you locked away in a closet unaware of the many layers of your own importance. You felt lost in a maze of confusion with no way out; locked inside a place where dark illustrated illusions distracted your pride and self-love; a place where your thoughts and feelings failed to come together in fusion— but finally your confidence has collided with strength and tall you stand as you are a champion of life: One who have defeated those who have judged and continue to judge; those who still try to trip your presence and make you fall back in that hole of fear but you rise...
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Life always takes the time to remind us we don’t have forever. That is why it is so important to love who we are inside because tomorrow won’t remember us if we don’t take the time to smile today. It was a still moment on a simple day. I was a bit grumpy on that particular morning, barely saying a good morning to co-workers as I sat down at my desk to begin another eight hours of the same routine. As I looked up at my computer monitor, the first thing I saw was an email from my friend Michael. I clicked it open and what I remember most as I read were the cloudy skies outside the window as I turned to my left. I remember that moment of hesitation as my mind took the time to catch up to my heart as I read the words: “I have something to tell you”. My heart started beating fast as my eyes scurried to find out the news. He mentioned that an acquaintance had passed away. I was a little relieved but it was shocking news because it was someone who I saw frequently in...
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“From The Shadows Of Curiosity” Although I believe homosexuality is something you’re born with, in my childhood years I really never thought of men sexually. It wasn’t until my puberty years that I began to wonder about the adult man body. I always used the excuse to myself that I was just curious about how “big” I was going to get. In time It turned into a fascination that eventually turned into a forbidden lust to be with another man. I hear tons of stories from guys of how they explored with buddies as children so it makes me wonder how normal that actually was. When does the physical lust turn into the emotional feeling for one of the same sex? I’ve have many discussions about this lately but I’ve defined homosexually or any sexually as the emotional attraction you have for someone. Because quite frankly, I can still physically have sex with a woman but there would be no emotional attachment. Definitely not the same feeling as being with a man. And ladies please don’t take offense to that because I assure you it’s nothing you did wrong because I do believe the female body is one the...
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I’ve never before been to a place ready to embrace me for all that I am. And as we passed Truro that New Years Eve I looked out a fogged up passenger side window into a dark cloud and thought to myself finally. Finally a place where I could hold the hand of my lover in the openness of acceptance; finally I could walk in the same harmony of understanding hearts; finally a place stuffy closets don’t suffocate laughter and finally a place to be free, a place to exhale self-pride. There was an excitement and a moment in my life approaching that I didn’t think would happen. I was with a new found love and his close friends going to a place on a night that could only be magical. And that indeed it was. I remember just staring at the dunes as we got closer and then the tiny little streets and all the small shops laced with lights glittering a shiny smile. Snow dusted parts of the ground and I could feel a spirit in the air that warmly kissed the awakening cold of the waves. I was in a small paradise for the eternity of...
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“Is it true what they say about black men?” Now how do I answer this question? My usual answer is we’re just like other men, there are different shapes and sizes and we’re not all twelve inches! I guess all myths stem from some reality but you must remember that all myths are myths because they have some exaggerated truth about them. Now I’m not going to discuss my dick size because that’s simply not important. Well put it this way, I haven’t had any complaints. But as far as the gay world goes, it’s a pressure put on us black men. There are some men who are size queens who seek the biggest “cock” they can find and to them that’s going to come from a black man. It happens in the straight world also because all through college. My roommate, who was very straight, constantly asked to see my supposedly monster “cock”. He always said “cock” but I’d rather it be called “dick” but I’m sure you all have your own name you call it. Whatever is fine with me. I entered the gay world very naïve and I felt any guy who liked me would...
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When we experience growth we sometimes become unrecognizable to ourselves. The music thumped as hesitant shadows scraped the dance floor with stiffened movements and wild attire. Black lights spotlighted the lint of many minds loose and intoxicated. I stood with a drink half filled with ice leaning against a crowded bar where frustrated patrons waved aimlessly for the attention of a bartender who thought he was the hottest attraction in the bar. He had much competition because many were already dancing with their own reflections in a steamed filled distorted mirror. And I remember having my own confidence as I saw an image of who I use to be just years before. Back then I would’ve been standing there with a different purpose. I would’ve had my arms folded and judged everyone around me not because I thought I was better but because I was catapulted into a new world; a world I hid for so long not to be a part of. There were many aspects of the gay world I didn’t understand because I simply didn’t want to understand them. I saw a lifestyle that was different than what I was exposed to...
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It is the nutrients of struggle to feed and nourish the hunger for survival. A roach stumbled its way over a dripping kitchen faucet and then paused seemingly staring back at a five year old child who was willing to share the existence. As I looked around at the...
I was the newest addition to a family portrait of nine. A mother, grandmother, two uncles, four aunts and a smile sitting on the floor of a two bedroom third floor apartment listening to grown folk banter echoing from the kitchen. That would be me. I remember being a carefree...
I am guilty. I have committed a crime and I am here to confess. ...
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