Author Archives: tarringovaughan


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 Boston, MA and Springfield, MA made him believe that expression through the literary voice was un-cool and unattainable. As a very quiet and shy child he learned it became very valuable in his self expression. Born in 1976, Tarringo was the first child, grandchild and nephew in a family that had grown accustomed to struggle. His mother was a teenager who quickly lost the support of my father who today he knows very little of. These aspects of his life triggered the inspiration of his pen. Later in life his struggle with self confidence and homosexuality catapulted his desire to write. He felt a need to educate and help others in his situation through words. It became Tarringo’s ambition to be somebody and in 1995 he entered his freshmen year at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst where he was still a very quiet individual and still refused to make a career involving literature. But his English courses continued to intrigue him the most and through those courses he became familiar and connected with African American writers such as James Baldwin and Langston Hughes who taught him that it was cool to be whom he was. James Baldwin was also gay and proudly exhibited his sense of self and Langston Hughes was a genius in poetry whose suave lyrical delivery drew Tarringo into his expression. And as his education furthered he found himself opening up more and taking on the role of a leader socially. Tarringo T. Vaughan graduated in 2000 from the University Of Massachusetts - Amherst with a Bachelors degree in English and Communications as a 2nd major. Tarringo currently works in the healthcare field but is working on his 2nd poetry book for publication titled “A Crack In The Sidewalk” following his first book of poetry titiled "Beyond Rainbows & Yellow Brick Roads" and is the founder of the Flexwriters Creative Network ( which currently features an online magazine, a social site and many literary outlets for poets, writers, publishers and readers. Future plans include a publishing company as well as actual an actual café for writers and spoken word nights. His writing consists of many styles as he does like neglecting rules and going beyond the norm.

On Bended Knee

Posted on in Love Poems | 0 comments

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 […]

Summer Winds

Posted on in Poetry: Tears Of A Poet | 0 comments

I write this poem I write this poem as I have discovered the manhood of a journey and puberty of discovery; I write this poem with the breath of early summer winds massaging the mental muscles of my mind as I reflect. I was once a young man stuck inside the neglect of the true […]

And I…

Posted on in Another Crack In the Sidewalk | 0 comments

A lazy day of summer is romancing tranquility as these thoughts formulate. My mind has becomes lost inside this abstract nature of poetic haze. Last night, while thinking, I watched fireworks explode into colors of sparkling magnificence over a dark sky bright with American pride. So many people of different shades, languages and ages came […]

This Simple Amazing (Song II)

Posted on in Another Crack In the Sidewalk | 1 comment

I love the way the mind flows when it is zip lining through nature. Today I hike through the trees of Bloomfield’s side of Talcott Mountain— town incorporated 1835 — but these manifestations of green-life have been alive forever. I taste the smell of Oak Savannas and Chestnut Oaks and feel the appreciation of Robert […]

Thoughts From A Loft At The End Of June

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Thoughts from a loft

I wonder what Langston Hughes would’ve done if there were no words – I wonder how he would’ve taught the world about deferred dreams if there was no way to write the blues. I wonder what would become of language if the fears of Shakespeare didn’t tell tales in old English rhyme and didn’t retell […]

The Evidence Of Existence

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The Evidence of Existence

Trash filled truths cluttered along faded sidewalks laying still in motion begging to recapture decayed dreams from growling lampposts where hope once leaned; shattered emptiness laying between claustrophobic alleyways reaching out from the shadows of intellectual prostitution selling the body of their thoughts for just a piece of the evolution their life once gleamed; they […]

Summer Cooking

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So… he looked on, watching from afar the imagery of family. Now alone, sitting in place on an old cranky stubborn porch, eighty-one years of tears laughter and memory/smiled; his smiled gleamed through the haze and humidly of another summer day: a day that reminded him of his younger years when the joy in many […]


Posted on in Diary Of A Gay Black Man | 0 comments

Sometimes I sit and stare out my window wondering about how different life would’ve been for the reflection staring back at through life’s mirror. What if fate didn’t shine it’s flashlight on my hidden reality? Where would I be, who would I be, how would I be living? As a child I observed everything around […]

It Came To Me In A Dream

Posted on in Poetry: Tears Of A Poet | 0 comments

I’v stood here before; right here in the center of a moment watching my own existence romance the skies of time with elegant touches of prismatic duration. But these were not my hands; these were the hands of history massaging everything that is now into the relaxation of reoccurrence of momentary fingerprints smudged down the […]

Tales Of The Downlow

Posted on in Diary Of A Gay Black Man | 0 comments
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I guess I was afraid…. ….of being seen as anything less than a man. I felt trapped inside the walls of societal expectations, inside my family’s vision and inside my own hope to be normal. I didn’t want to be the one slurred at and pointed at as different. I didn’t want to be called […]