Robert Vaughn's demise is something that billions of people deplore.
If he had lived just eleven days longer, he would've turned eighty-four.
Vaughn had the ability to make movies and TV shows enjoyable.
When we lost this great man, it was like losing a precious jewel.
When we watched him on the small and the big screen, it was always sure to please.
During his later years, he continued to act and he did commercials for attorneys.
If you visit Hollywood, you can see Vaughn's star on the Walk of Fame.
Because of his death, television and movies will never again be the same.

Every Christmas was a good Christmas when you were around.
But it stopped being good after you were lowered into the ground.
The last Christmas that we spent together was four years ago.
I had no idea that it would be our last Christmas, I didn't know.

When a man spends Christmas with family, it means everything.
And when that is taken away, it's like being struck by lightning.
When we spent our last Christmas together, I didn't know the end was near.
Merry Christmas Mom, because you're in my heart, a part of you is still here.

Robert Vaughn was married for forty-two years and had two children.
He starred in many movies and TV shows and he stood five feet ten.
He was the proud father of a daughter and a son.
When he died, he was surrounded by loved ones.
He died of Leukemia which is the same kind of cancer that took my dad.
Vaughn was loved by many people and his death has made everybody feel sad.
He was asked to run against Ronald Reagan for Governor but he declined.
Vaughn was an extraordinary actor and he was also a credit to Mankind.

I’ll keep on loving you
Long after you start to
Look like your mother
Though she looks much
Too much like her brother.
I’ll keep on laughing at
The groaner puns you make
And eating the cakes
That taste like meatloaf
From Blavian yak ****
Because that is what,
To me, true love is.

It doesn’t take a wiz kid
To see what nature did
And I am sure I will be
A cartoon version of me
When I get to that stage
Where age has altered us
To having rear-ends like a bus
And skin like the spin cycle
Before the dryer gets there.
We’ll have hair like lint
To match the laundry bent
Of the last four lines.

And I know I won’t mind
Because it’s you I adore
And that is what love is for
To help us ignore the stuff
Like belly button fluff
And farting unashamedly
Even though we are blamedly
Guilty as recharged, stinking.
I am guilty of thinking
Things will continue to get worse
Until the nurse considers ******
When nobody heard her.

He was an exceptional actor but now he's gone.
The man who I'm speaking of was Robert Vaughn.
Vaughn starred in The Man From U.N.C.L.E. and twice on Columbo.
He starred in Escape From Witch Mountain and The Towering Inferno.
He guest starred in Hotel, The Magnificent Seven and The Love Boat.
He made a few appearances on The A-Team and ******, She Wrote.
Millions of people are sad because Vaughn is dead.
It is terrible to lose an actor who was so talented.
I became his fan over thirty years ago when I watched Superman III.
He was a legend and when I learned about his death, I was not pleased.

Inspiration I found you
hiding in my old drawings
of stick figures

fighting each other until they became disfigured

See I figured if I could draw enough of them I could create movie scenes

Tales of epic battles, wars of brutality unlike a beauty queen

An escapist at heart, imagination captivated by these moving parts

A pencil in hand would create everything I couldn't see
but only imagined inside of dreams

These daydreams would then change things in the motions of my grand scheme

My grand scheme is of art
expression from the heart

No *******, no judgment
******* if you judge this

I do it! No, I do it well
Read my past works
Your eyes will swell

I promise, If my words don't alter your brain cells

Then let me oxygenate fumes inside of my main valve

To only release steam
my seams are of mage spells,magical potions, words scattered in slow-motion

Motion-Picture this
drawing in class was a little kid
mechanical pencil was his choice of instrument
rehearsals were illustrated
diabolical foes, dramas fueled with energy, enemies killed flows,

Of static electricity, I'd draw till my fingers lacked elasticity.

now my imagination is as stiff as can be.  

I'm constantly drafting, drawing & dissecting a piece

Whether it is a visual or audio wave
I just rinse and repeat

Reconstruct from a core, let that core have seeds

From those seeds sprout plants and  
the idea of trees.

darling,
you have the sweetest constellation
of a smile.
i love to play connect the dots
with the corners of your mouth.
i want
to use my pinkie finger
and drag it along your lips as
you
lay still
and my
hands shake.
i'd take
my time
and love you like an angel.

darling,
i love it when we embrace.
you always squeeze a bit too tight,
you call me el - i
only allow you to call me el-
and then you look me in the eyes
with those
blue, lightbulb, l-e-d, pastel coloured eyes
of yours.
****.

darling,
i'm moving forward
from the heartache,
and i'm looking at you.
you are not a fallback
and i don't even deserve your attention.
but when you say that you told your family
i sneeze like a kitten,
i imagine meeting them,
your mother saying:
that's the one.

darling,
maybe you'll save me from myself,
because he never could.

darling,
one day,
if
we kiss
goodbye-
no.
one day,
when
we kiss
hello
i hope i can say
i can give you all you deserve.

Ere poesy was born, was born a woman we came to know.

A poetess, with word's that fit
A kingdom's grip; Her
Writing's lift.

Her writing's lift the cloud's from rain, her soul thou dost know; for her heavenly glow, can
Ease all pain's.

She gives herself, for everyone else, her books should be stacked upon ancient shelves, where memory don't go, and love won't fade.

She's the sunshine of the morn,
The Poe of women's floor's;
The Poetess of old that's
Become to be welcomed
And known- her literature
Raised up And shown-
Where the dead walk and talk
Where corn is picked clean of
Their stalks, she's the girl that creates wonders from the stars that is her home.

She wanders poetic streets, a pencil and paper her nightly meat.
Her mind goes past time:
Beyond thought, the world she greets, she needs no dime-
She's rich in her kindness,
In smiles she defeats.

An archaic beauty of the woods and the streets, where no shoes she needs;
To dance in a wild poetic style.


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Vicki bashor birthday dedication