White Silk, Black Tails

White Silk, Black Tails – A Vampire Love Poem

I was a spirit

In white silk with pink roses

Bustle in back

You in black tails

Took my breath away

And a century later

When you realized

That I loved you

I could exhale.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

White Silk, Black Tails

I was a spirit

In white silk with pink roses

Bustle in back

You in black tails

Took my breath away

And a century later

When you realized

That I loved you

I could exhale

 

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Silk She is

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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:

https://www.createspace.com/4641602

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00IYE3ZUG

Silk She Is

Silk She Is

THUMBNAIL_IMAGE

 

 

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

 

A need you dare not admit. Poetry on a Vampire Mom blog? Why? I’ll tell you.

A need you dare not admit. Poetry on a Vampire Mom blog? Why? I’ll tell you.

People won’t admit they read poetry and are moved by it…but late at night they go on the Internet and search it out. It is like pornography. I’m dead serious (no pun intended). It is a need that most people will not dare admit to.

It isn’t a good time for me to expound upon the history of poetry or what caused the American population (among others) claim not to like poets. But I would like to remind everyone, especially those of us who can remember the past several centuries that there was a time that poets were the Rock Stars of our culture.

Sometimes I pull out my old volumes of favorites and read in the quiet of the night or on a rain soaked day. In turn, I also look for the new. I marvel at the many voices I see with poetry on the Internet.

Part of me believes technology with recorded music, radio, TV etc maybe brought an end to the poet as a popular icon. But in turn the Internet, yes the Internet has brought poetry back to life.

I see in the online communities poets being read, not ignored. I don’t read those words online “I don’t like poetry.” I see people who NEVER would read a poem, forwarding poetry to their friends and loved ones.

Poetry is a gift to the soul. Poetry is for everyone. Everyone needs poetry, like a vampire needs blood, like a hawk needs to fly, like a fish needs to swim. I know that wasn’t very poetic but you get the point – I hope.

Your assignment today is to READ, SAVOR and SHARE poetry with someone you love.

Juliette Vampire Maman

Almost two years ago I started writing the blog Vampire Maman (vampiremaman.com) as a parenting blog written by a Modern Vampire. It grew from a few funny stories about parenting, the elderly and ghosts to something much larger and more diverse. A large part of that diversity has been poetry, both mine and the poetry of others.

For me poetry is a way to put down words to express feelings that can’t always be explained otherwise. Just random thoughts and feelings. At least that is what works for me. I’m not a poet. I’m a storyteller.

I use poetry to tell stories. On my blog I talk a lot about 17 year old Garrett, a Vampire teen who is forever in love with one girl after the other – and of course he is always getting his heart broken. To deal with his feelings he writes poetry (which I usually find in the laundry.)

 Looking Back

Looking back,

You’re a pale ghost.

A monster waiting,

To feed upon the Vampire boy.

I feel your unholy energy,

Your thirst for power,

You prey on my heart,

You sucked away my love.

Alone in the dark,

I see your selfish soul,

Your glowing eyes,

That burn into my mind.

Loving a human girl,

Can only bring pain,

They are the monsters,

Bitches who bite deep.

 ___________________________________

Sometimes I’ll write something just to get an idea or feeling across…as in night and darkness…love…and mystery.

 

Musings of Night and Darkness

Night glimmers with light

Life abounds

The music of crickets

The glow of eyes in the night

Of raccoon and possums

Coyotes and cats

Nocturnal parties

Quiet in their celebrations

Stars and moon light the way

Reflecting off of waters

While cool breeze

Fills the night air

Beauty in darkness

No time for dreams

 

_____________________________

 

Vampire Love Poem

I was a spirit

In white silk with pink roses

Bustle in back

You in black tails

Took my breath away

And a century later

When you realized

That I loved you

I could exhale

______________________________

You Wait At My Door

You wait at my door,

Your bite still fresh,

Your cries

Your pleading

Your banging

The scratching

Your love

Astounds me

You will not give up

Fangs set

Love forever

I must let you in

For after all

Despite all

Forever all

I laugh

I smile

I let you in

You are my cat.

Rub my belly

Rub my belly

________________________________________________

And sometimes I write a few words of verse just to start off a story.

 

You are not prey

For I do not kill

Or take without giving

 

I don’t steal your dreams

Or make you scream

In your bed alone

 

I take only what I need

And in return

You are in blissful wonder

 

Don’t fear the ones

With a shadow for a soul

And a vision of night

 

“What are you writing?” That was said in a sarcastic tone right from the mouth of the Ghost who materialized over my shoulder like a puff of stale cigarette smoke. That was the last thing I needed.

I glared at him. “Go away. It isn’t for your eyes.”

He gave me a disgusted look. “It isn’t for any eyes.”

“I was just playing around with the words.”

“You’re such a Vampire. Always trying to make your vile nasty things look so innocent. Why don’t you just say that you creep around at night and scare the shit out of people.”

“That is your job Mr. Ghost.”

“Oh right. But you’re pretty creepy.”

I stood up and faced him. “Really? You think I’m creepy?”

He gave me one of those creepy smiles and raised an eyebrow. “I do.”

“That comes from a disembodied dead person who lurks around and stalks people,” I told him.

“I don’t lurk. And you’re not a people. You’re a Vampire. You’re dead too.”

“ Excuse me Nigel, I am not dead.”

“A twisted technicality. And what about your husband? He wasn’t born into your sick and twisted Vampire world. He was held down by a gang of Vampires while their Vampire slut sucked out all of his blood as well as his very life. Then they filled him with their poisoned blood and breath and gave him a shadow for a soul. He had a funeral. His girlfriend cried over his dead cold body. He now, like you, has to drink blood to survive.”

“At least my husband has a body.”

Nigel smiled again. “A body most guys would envy, but he is still a cold dead Vampire.”

“Are you done here?”

“Sure.” The ghost all but rolled his eyes. “You know when you’re angry your fangs come out.”

“Enough.” I snapped out at him.

Then he had the audacity to put his head back and laugh. “Admit it Vampire. I’m your muse.”

“Go away.”

“Goodnight Juliette.” He faded away but I could still hear him laughing in the distance.

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My favorite poetry on my blog is from other writers. About half the poetry I post isn’t mine. One of my favorites is from my own daughter (written about two years ago). This was an assignment for school but I had to share.

We destroy and help make screaming silence

As wonderful as we are

This world we are destroying

With our safe guns,

Truly false, bitter sweetness

Upside down ways, violently peaceful,

Beautiful flaws we do it’s never been right

Children

Maybe one day the unborn children can make a change

You

Be yourself, fix the bad karma, live your life and fix things as much as you can

Maybe one day it will all be better

Maybe long after you and me

But things can only get worse before they get better

C. S. Kings Age 12 2012

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 bells

Bed Bug, Bedbug, Freeze Out, Hardscrabble …teenage boys and love

School will start soon (high school) and for teens that means socializing and flirting and crushes and giggling and whispering with friends when “she” walks by (especially for my son and his friends.)

I’d posted the blog post below back in February 2013 but thought it was worth revisiting…

 

 

 

Bed Bug, Bedbug, Freeze Out, Hardscrabble,

Nereid

Sea Maiden

Poseidon’s loyal helper

Sailor’s guardian angel

Violet beauty

I looked at the note on yellow lined paper written in black Sharpie that I found in the dryer. Fragments of the musings of a 16 year old boy.

The first line is names of a town not far from where we live, founded during the California gold rush. The rest of it is taken from Greek Mythology. I knew what it was.

It is Ione. His long time friend Ione. Once a funny little fair haired girl, now a leggy and shapely blonde of 16. She is also, like my son, a Vampire.

I unfolded the note more, crisp from the dryer and still warm.

I have known you forever

Since our time began

As babies

Then children of the night

As teens

Now growing into adulthood

Our hearts

Our minds

Our future

Am I to be with you?

My mythical love

My desire

My chance

A kiss from you

And I would be

Happy forever

Ione.

So far, aside from the occasional glances at Vampire girls and life long friendships, he has never set his heart on one, especially not one in his tight-knit social circle of “The Vs” as they call themselves.

Ione is quiet and funny and smart. But don’t piss her off because she isn’t one to forgive or forget anything. She also sees herself in some mythical role as avenging angel, taking on the cause of the bullied, down trodden and anyone in her opinion who has been treated unjustly.

Most people see her sort of an exceptionally smart, brilliant dumb-blonde. Smart and goofy. Sort of like my son’s best friend Randy.

I was ready to pocket the note when Garrett came into the laundry room and said “Give me that.”

“I didn’t know you liked her that way,” I said.

“It isn’t what you think.”

“Did you write it for Randy?”

“No. Don’t’ say anything Mom. It isn’t anything.”

“OK.” I smiled.

And then he smiled the shy way 16 year old boys do.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

ione

 

A Normal Vampire Teen – Love Poems and Letting Go

She stood by the trees

Green leaves glowing in sunlight

Hope and desire glows

From her perfect skin

Her blonde hair like a halo.

My heart breaks

For my fondest desire

Is to grow old and frail

With my springtime girl

She stood by the trees

And smiled back at me

I waved and smiled

Just friends, not lovers or donors,

Friends for a while

And I wish her well

A long and happy life

As I watch and wonder “what if?”

 

 

I found that free form verse scrawled on a paper in my 16 year old son’s backpack. I wasn’t snooping, he told me he had a paper in there I had to sign.

But it broke my heart, a little, to see him so grown up, but yet still so young.

His father and I have had “the talk” about the different life spans of regular humans and those of us who are vampires.

I know the girl. Her name is Amber. She always kisses our cats when she comes over with the usual pack of teens for swim parties and study groups. She played Olivia to his Orsino in the school production of The Twelfth Night.

He let her go so she could date another boy, a boy who isn’t him, a boy she won’t fall in love with.

I see him through his bedroom, black skinny jeans, hair in his eyes, skyping with friends, laughing. A normal 16 year old by anyone’s standards.

First published July, 2012

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

pink