Silk She is


I’d like to introduce you to a poet, a bear of a man, a free-thinker, a man with a loud laugh and a gentle touch. A man with few filters, but a man of great words. Daniel E. Tanzo.

Celebrate with me the poetry…


If You Really Want to know

Poetry is the gauntlet of the human existence,
from agony to ecstasy, mundane,
profane and sacred. From Christ on the cross
to Dionysian orgiastic debauchery
with nymphs who rend his flesh,
to the cry of a newborn babe,
reaching in and attaching itself to your soul
Poetry is life squared,
brought to existence,
through an oft times inadequate medium.
So we try to connect soul to soul,
with the ink from our veins.

Copyright © Daniel E. Tanzo


Daniel is a tough, ornery son of a bitch, often called The Grizz (after the bear). He also has a softer side, that of a caring friend, a lover, a gentle soul and one who was a seeker of universal understanding.

And we all know that Daniel loves women! And they adore him.

I met Daniel online a while back when we accidentally came together with several other writers and formed “WPaD” – Writers, Poets and Deviants.  Within that group we formed a safe and positive online support group for writers. We also published several anthologies of short stories and poetry. Daniel was at the heart of all of these projects.

Over the years we (the WPaD authors) have shared, laughed, cried, laughed again, created, flirted, encouraged and laughed together. Daniel has been such a huge part of that creative party and support group of ours.


There can be only one;
it’s just the way I’m made,
I have not the guile,
nor the will, to, travel with parades.
An entourage of homage,
I need just the one, whose laughter,
is my song of blessing.
In her banter and wit,
names me Don Juan
full of shit.
There can be no other.
Other than you.
‘tis true.

Copyright © Daniel E. Tanzo


Daniel is fighting a battle with cancer. As expected, even at this late stage, he is still full of attitude and fight.

All of us at WPaD  already mourn the loss of our friend. We also celebrate his support and creativity and the beautiful words that will live on to touch more hearts and souls.

We love you Daniel and we always will.

Thank you to all of his friends who are keeping watch at the hospice – just being with him so he won’t be alone. Your time and love is appreciated by all of who can’t be there. You are angels on earth and friends of the highest order.

I also want to say a special thanks to Canadian author Mandy White for quickly compiling, designing and editing Silk She Is – all in time for Daniel (in California) to get his own copy and hold it and read it. It was a project based on love and respect for a fellow friend and author.


“Silk She is” a collection of poetry from Daniel E. Tanzo

Silk She is – An exquisite collection of poetry reflecting the mind of a most extraordinary man. At Daniel’s request all proceeds will be donated to cancer research.

I know you’ll enjoy this work and savor the words of Daniel Tanzo.


Click on the links below for more information about purchasing your own copy:

Silk She Is

Silk She Is




Bottom of Form

Alpha to omega
been there done that
more than twice
Shape shifting shaman
who willingly paid the price
Scars at the throat
remnants of the first death match
Charnal house to bawdy house
loving whores and killing floors
It’s what I did and where I thrived

© Daniel E Tanzo


Daniel E. Tanzo

Daniel E. Tanzo

Blood for Pens

Red Ribbons of proof to a disbelieving mind
Subtleties lost to the hordes of mundane drones
whose only desire is the right car and home.

We are the werewolves,
The shape shifting shamans
Of a lost proud tribe,
Actual alchemical creators
Not merely scribes.
We existed before words
And created the gods.

Copyright © Daniel E. Tanzo


Working out loss, love and life with your Vampire teen.

My 16 year old son is usually sunshine and smiles but yesterday, after being back at school for the first day after Thanksgiving break, he was quiet and almost sad. He said school was fine and it was good seeing his friends again, but he didn’t talk like he usually does.

I found this in the car scrawled in my son’s writing:


One day we’ll part,

In different worlds,

Not so different,

Not the same,

You’ll have change,

I will stay the same,

You’ll have wonder,

I will stay the same,

You’ll have wisdom,

I will see the wonders of the ages,

Except that I will miss you,

My heart a broken mess.

I knew where this was going. Friends mean everything to a teen. Their friends are the center of their universe. They think though their hearts. They bond friendships that will last forever – or so it seems.

After not seeing him for about an hour I went searching just to make sure he was ok.

I found Garrett, not on his computer, or iPhone but painting. He almost always writes poetry when something is on his mind. I find scraps of paper with free verse in the clothes dryer, in books, in the car and just about everywhere. He also paints to get out emotions he is trying to deal with.

I found him in front of a canvas he has painted over and over until the paint has become thick as a pancake. “I hate the fact that my friends are going to die before I do. They’re going to get old and I’m going to have to leave their lives because I won’t age like they do. It sucks mom. It isn’t fair.” He looked at me with sad eyes.

“Your friends are going through the same thing only sooner than you are.” I told him.


“Some have already lost parents and grandparents. A few have lost friends and siblings. It leaves holes that are hard to imagine.”

“I’d die if anything happened to you or dad.” He looked at me with so much love and sadness that it broke my heart.

I put my hand on his shoulder. “You won’t die. You just remember and know the love is still there. You find strength. You keep the memory of the person who died and live to make them proud of you. The memories are always yours.”

“It’s just hard,” he said.

“I know, but you have a long way to go. I’ve loved and cherished my friends over the years. I feel honored to have known them. Their path isn’t the same as ours. Their lives are full and rich and wonderful. They have options we can’t even imagine.”

“Mom, by the time I’m 30 I’ll have to start backing away because I’m not going to age like they will.” The frustration in his voice was clear.

“It isn’t that simple Garrett. You’ll keep connections with some of your most trusted friends. They’ll understand. There are ways to deal with it and work around it.”

“Your friends, the ones you have when you were my age are all gone.”

“I still miss them sometimes baby. It isn’t always easy.” I told my son. It wasn’t easy but one grew to accept it. Not like it, but accept it.

“Sometimes I wish we were regular humans. You know, normal people,” said my son.

“We’re normal enough.” I had to smile. Normal for modern suburban Vampires.

“My friends are going to go away.”

“They’ll be in your heart forever.”

“It isn’t the same.” He gave me a very very very sad look that broke my heart.

“I know honey. I wish I had an answer for you but I don’t.” And I still don’t.

I could have told him to be proud to be a Vampire etc etc etc. He is and it is all he knows, but sometimes it is ok to let your teen brood and ponder life and love and death. They need to explore those feelings – and as a parent you can be open to their thoughts and ideas. Give them the support they need and a safe place to go if they have questions or just want to talk.

Just listen. Sometimes that is all they need.