#tango
We are a cinema, not a fortress; acting out a fantasy of ignorant armies clashing by night, and it is warfare—sexual aggression and retreat and battles joined.
When she lifts her wedding dress to her waist, smiling coquettishly as she exposes her ***** hair, she's both shallow and wise: willing to brazenly give in to the moment, for a chance to gain control.
The words are ******* not worth remembering. Can I write my lines on Maria's rear end like a drunk with a literary turn of mind?
I bellow my contempt for hypocrisies and orthodoxies, while soaping her ******* I keep trying to shove them all back down other people’s throats. But it is the soft ones who defeat men like me and walk away, consciencelessly.
Mar 5
Mar 5, 2026 at 5:57 AM UTC
are we truly real?
two masks lost in a
tango of lies unsaid
and chains of shame
are we truly free?
Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 12:08 PM UTC
There once was a man who would dance
Any style he would give a chance
But, when doing the hustle
He did pull a muscle
And blew out the back of his pants
Jan 4
Jan 4, 2026 at 2:13 PM UTC
no, instantly NOT, where your brain has gone,
call me back, this poem has none of that
but slow and swell to speak to my body,
indeed, in deed, with a pretty one, please,
two organs directly connected, brain to heart,
heart to brain
the triggering can be anything,
breeze upon her face, no,
But the word she silent spake,
when she gave me the
Argentine tango stare reverberate
beautiful woman, dancing tango
in every space that a sightline provides,
first invader, then an occupier, lastly
a poem that refuses to be erased
the stare, it is an invitation, to the
limitations of the first instantaneous,
What will come after will be displayed.
Am I charming, witty, amusing,
but most
of all,
how well do I dance the tango
How well do my fingers on her back,
five finger telegraph telling her
be ready for what
comes next!
our swell with constant messaging,
Our fingertips
speak dance, acknowledge tension,
the next move, sincopated,
Before even completing the last…
With respect to the unwritten tango laws,
I wait till the dance is over,
And ask her,
plead/command/desire
the next one too two,
alas, a lass, her stare
already
has tangoed elsewhere…
Dec 18, 2025
Dec 18, 2025 at 1:33 PM UTC
I won’t go on a wild trip with you,
I won’t dance pressed close in the velvet night,
We won’t argue over metaphors.
Our life is a prose of the genre.
Order, paid bills,
bravely divided into fractions.
Locked rooms, forgotten laughter,
and silence that sometimes screams.
A colorful mosaic, a tragicomedy,
By others called an immature farce.
We danced, awkwardly, our tango,
Trying to tame ourselves.
And yet I longed for the warmth of arms
When you slipped away, the Erinyes awoke.
We were imperfect Love,
A set of empty expectations.
Buying me new notebooks and pencils,
You erased what hadn’t worked for us.
Oh irony, going blind, I see more!
Time spares us not, my dear!
I saw that the bags were heavier,
I begged you to stay a little longer,
To celebrate our embittered certainty.
Looking back, I see an empty hall.
Yes, you gave me silence and my own room,
The one I dreamed of for so long.
I don’t dance anymore, no longer sing,
I only write to preserve the memories,
To dissolve the loneliness broken into hours,
I write the meaning of hours brushed by,
I still write of us at times,
Though we faded into the completed past.
Oct 9, 2025
Oct 9, 2025 at 9:42 PM UTC
You ever loved —
or was it mere attraction?
We burned the night
With red-shoe tango,
candlelight, burning
roses till autumn’s fall.
I performed too —
kissed with fire,
leaving a mark
that turned to scar.
You — sent a betrayal gift,
a Trojan horse
encoding into our system —
Now what’s left is a corrupt file,
named broken trust,
memory crashing
with encrypted casualties.
Oct 5, 2025
Oct 5, 2025 at 10:34 AM UTC
One step forward, two steps back.
I’m trapped in an endless tango.
My dancing partner is Bad Luck.
Tied together with chains of fate,
We strut across the wooden floor.
With every attempt to leave this
Spinning choreography tornado,
I am twirled back into his arms.
Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 7:35 PM UTC
The many that I had accepted
Beyond my control, far from being able to affect any change
Are not nearly as important
As those I forgot, or chose to let linger and fade.
And new ones come up to chase everyday,
It's true what they say;
The more things change, the more
They remain the same.
Alternate the moves, change the pace-
Still the same tango:
Dancing in place
Nov 2, 2023
Nov 2, 2023 at 5:12 PM UTC
Clad in plaid and leather, silver
drenched in blood
fingers gracefully extended
to pull the trigger,
jump the gun -
Back to back,
shoulder to shoulder,
hand-to-hand
combat
with each other, with the reaper
This ménage-à-trois
- brother - brother - Death -
encircled in an endless dance,
scowling like wolves,
gnashing blades like teeth,
growling like gunfire
one stretches his arm
and reaches into Hell
a sharp intake of breath, thick
like demonic blood -
his hand gripping the other one tight
by the shoulder -
handprint burnt into his flesh already
from decades of dance rehearsal,
always dancing, always getting tired -
the two as one
and the Holy Ghost of Death between,
this third, silent party
ever-observing, winding between their bodies,
slick and oily -
cunning Death is a slippery eel.
Cheek to cheek
their tears mingling
as they whisper the steps to each other,
useless reminders of
‘I’m sorry’
‘Goodbye’
‘I love you’
‘I can’t be without-’
and one! Death kicks his leg
a sharp stab to the chest,
the heart underneath slowing to the rhythm
of tango dying in the spotlight…
and two! one brother picks up the speed,
carries his partner through the routine,
an arm
elegantly draped around
a neck,
half-carried, half-dragged through this dance,
each foot-fall heavier than the one before,
and three… the violins stop screeching
their violent delight,
all eyes carefully trained on the dancers,
warm blood trickling between their lips,
barely touching,
hot breath visible in the cold black
surrounding their heads.
Death stares, shrouded in his coat.
The boys disheveled but him untouched,
a joyless grin on his pale lips,
thin brow dusted with
the sweat of exertion,
the fire in their lungs
lights a spark -
four! the violins pick up again
their strings wailing in excitement
as a hand descends from Heaven
the dancers looking up in awe,
lifting their faces to the single spotlight
illuminating their locked fingers,
rigid backs,
cheek to cheek still
and five, spinning them around
the hand makes all the blood undone
and heals their wounds
as Death lurks in the shadows, ready
to attack once more -
again - six, again - seven,
eight, nine!
their ribs broken and breath quivering,
hands still holding tight,
legs outstretched -
slowly kneeling in an embrace of pain…
pleading mouths -
‘Stay-
stay with me’
‘Please’
‘Tell me,
tell-
t-tell me it’s okay-’
But on ten, enter stage left
one who’s danced with Death half
an eternity-
he latches onto one brother,
forearm against forearm,
leaving him marked -
suddenly a new rivalry-
the dynamic changes swiftly now
and one brother, with his fists raised high,
Death wrapped around his torso,
he is poised to pounce -
ready to **** now,
any second now,
come to Death, spin him ‘round,
lock eyes with the unthinkable-
eleven. And an arm extends -
in the flash of his own blade
Death falls to his knees,
soulless eyes glazed over, staring still,
the dancers fixed in their sight -
He goes down without applause -
the audience is shocked,
the dancers are shocked,
the violins stopped mid-stroke.
Twelve. A moment of silence for the death of Death.
A beat. And another.
The daring of a pumping heart.
Composure, posture, straightening backs,
hand in rough-skinned hand,
an air of grace and defiance
in their footwork,
set to finish this performance.
At thirteen the violins fall into
the final act -
the dancers spin and smile
painfully wide,
the audience screams and cheers,
wring their hands,
whistle like toreros
rousing Death, forgotten on the parquet,
from his curtain fall,
hands reaching, feeling into the warm
spotlight -
the spectators scream in horror,
the brothers, bowing, turn too late -
prelude -
one -
Dec 4, 2020
Dec 4, 2020 at 5:39 PM UTC
Walls, colored like vanilla,
melt against the ribbons of gray
that the cinnamon red flames breathe.
slowly, each exhale works as the tempo.
one-two-three-four-five
slow slow quick-quick slow
get on step, J, you're off again.
b r e a t h e
I taste freedom as I spin,
the air burns like alcohol,
it tells me
"pick your poison, J,
choose wisely,
and we'll show you who you are."
but I'm so tired of being
them.
so I'll sway until the traits
slither down my body,
curling around my ankle
before sneaking into never again.
I'll mix my being with the acid
gripping onto the shadows as I tilt back,
demons will nip at my neck when my
hair brushes the floor,
with my body bent,
hands clutching Hades' shoulders,
I let out a cry.
He tells me I'll get better.
we'll spin
like lies, rumors, thoughts,
we'll ****** our feet, and stomp out the pain,
the flickering will shade,
and there will be nothing but the sound
of my dancing
protesting, landing, ordering
against, on, to
the ground,
demanding to be seen, heard, known.
I'll leap across,
pressing my body close enough to Death
that I can tell you
She's just as lovely as Lust,
and She'll twirl me
until the radiation I've encountered
slathers the wall.
I'll heave until I collapse,
becoming nothing but
a heap of avoidance.
part one of
my tango.
Dec 2, 2020
Dec 2, 2020 at 9:53 PM UTC
I am daylight
of a dissolving stay
in Paris
looking over
wrought-iron dreams
peering through
baroque and promises
at the ransom note
written on
a sleeping **** sunbather's
**********
where it reads:
"*...our marriage
was nothing more
than a foxhole to you.*"
~
Nov 19, 2020
Nov 19, 2020 at 8:11 AM UTC
Non stop time-space tango.
Five senses twist and turn stories!
Retreat to greater time.
Feb 18, 2020
Feb 18, 2020 at 11:12 AM UTC
i’ll never forget the first time we danced, at the social in august,
the heat and humidity of the summer night, intensified by the confines of the old wooden dance hall.
the music was electric, the crowd ecstatic when we locked eyes, and i asked you to dance. i took your hand, soft and moist, and led you to the middle of the dance floor.
surrounded by bodies, gyrating and spinning, i put my arm around you, pulled you near, pressing your body tightly against mine.
i held you in my arms, discovering, savoring the feel of your body, the wetness on your back, the earthiness of your scent.
i sensed the sensuality, the sexuality, the animal, inside you. never had i desired a woman as much as i desired you.
Feb 7, 2020
Feb 7, 2020 at 2:35 PM UTC
They say "It takes two to tango"
But I can dance alone
Like a graceful ballerina
With aching ankles
And broken bones
I'll gracefully show you
How beautifully broken I am
Dec 22, 2019
Dec 22, 2019 at 3:10 AM UTC
He lay there in a ***** unkept ball,
Having surrendered to the pavement.
Wisps of stringy brown hair
Covered the lines on his sunken in face,
His yellow smoked eyes, rheumy and blurred,
His vision hazy, like a punch-drunk boxer.
Kathleen Harmon sashayed by
With nary a glace downward.
Once they were equals,
When they sat together
During high school Chemistry.
Time slowed from a Tango to a Waltz,
As a drop of saliva
Kissed the pavement.
Stringing there from his cracked, parted lips.
His tangled brown whiskers,
Patchy on his cheeks,
Had lengthened with the passing days
Since their last meeting with a razor.
Nikes, Prada, and Gucci
Ignore him in passing
All sports, fashion, and business meetings;
On the clock, and self-absorbed.
Dusk marked the sky
With a violet crayon
Worn to a nub,
Then worn to nothing.
A sudden thud startled him awake!
Then blackened hardwood stunned him as it bit into his ribs!
A caustic voice berated his slumber,
A navy blue reminder that even surrender was no escape.
Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 8:23 PM UTC
Lumbral of bitterness,
cradle of an evicted rhetoric
disturbed by the ghosts of yesterday,
memories of ephemeral and distant times.
Ballad of anguish and desolation.
A withered rose,
a broken heart,
a bonfire of false promises
dissipates with the pulse of time.
I hear the sighing of a mermaid,
the vultures prowl
-ordeal of my fateful days.-
Laying on the threshold
of remnants memories,
remain crumbs of a pale love.
A farewell kiss
-illusive and faint-
omen of a last tango,
metaphor of life and death.
© Martin D Angelus [2019]
Juana Díaz, Puerto Rico
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 10:06 PM UTC
Some days I wake up strong
The thought of you does no harm
Some days I wake up weak
All I want is to be in your arms
One day
The thoughts of you will do no harm
Not even reminiscing being in your arms
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 6:04 AM UTC
Stay!
And fly with me into the world of mystery,
into a proud, poetic and passionate dance,
feel the freedom in the tango's victory,
dancing sincerely, your body melts in this trance.
Whisper to me in syncope, in a sweet tone,
in spasmodic, elegant moves in this romance,
while the eyes sparkle like a diamond, for they own
the passion in this extravagant, vivacious dance.
Touch me in this poem full of rhythm and sensuality,
stay with me under the spell of the imaginary space,
losing ourselves in the exchange of signals, we have the key
to change the steps and move with irresistible grace.
Paint the unknown again on my naked shoulder
with your lips craving after my sweet kiss, it seems,
cover me with your entire palm, bring me closer,
make me a bedding in the land of foolish dreams.
Feel my pure madness in this rhythmical speech,
resonating, vibrating together, for one last dance,
don't look down, but breathe my air and you'll reach
the top of the Eiffel-tower in magnificent France.
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 6:11 AM UTC
A tango of two souls
and they’re dancing in the stars.
She spins around and down black holes
while my left foot backs onto Mars.
A tango of two hearts
they waltz back and forth within the flame,
each forgot their parts
but they carry on the same.
Two to tango, two for tea,
it’s a sad truth but I’m feeling that three is company.
Two to tango, two eyes to see,
I’m surrounded fully but I’m completely lonely.
A tango of two souls
and they’re dancing in the dark,
hiding all their freckles and moles
unaware they’re simply just a mark.
A tango of two hearts
they waltz back and forth within the flame,
subsequently all ends with all that starts,
and we’re just shuffling the blame.
Two to tango, two for tea,
it’s a sad truth but I’m realizing I’m not who I used to be.
Two to tango, two eyes to see,
the horizon is in the distance but the sun is lacking.
Hearts hold no dancing shoes
but mind hears only song,
against both I must refuse
both choices equally right and wrong.
I would see all distance erased
and forms pressed tight together,
but the beat is too fast paced;
I swear next opportunity I will do better.
Two to tango, two for tea,
it’s a sad truth but I’m accepting I fail to view clearly.
Two for tango, two eyes to see,
that I was never cut out for this type of dancing.
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 9:13 PM UTC
Madame Death
She suits me
But then again,
Who doesn't she suit
Madame Death
Ever so flexible
With me all the time
I'd say you're the only one I can trust
You've been with me for so very long now
You've strangled me a little too tight from time to time
But that I can forgive
Madame Death
Always by my side
I hope you never leave me
And I can't wait to be in your sweet embrace once again
Madame Death
I must say
You look quite lovely tonight
Shall we dance?
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 11:42 PM UTC
Grab my hand and come close,
press your ear to my chest,
wrap your arm around my waist
and let your body fall into mine.
Rhythmic heart beats translate to movement in my feet,
my hips ride the tempo and my soul takes the lead.
We’re tangled in a Tango for lovers.
Your pelvis flush with mine
the heat of passion begins to rise.
You spin your body away in an effort to tease,
in that moment I see what I’ve always wanted;
your fair skin dancing in the moonlight.
Elegantly exposed under the stars.
We’re in tune with our element.
Fancy footwork brings us closer,
you’re wrapped in my arms again.
Sway with me,
let the music caress your spirit.
Exhale and be free. Explode with desire.
Touch your lips to mine
and fall in love with fire.
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 12:46 AM UTC