flowers – I Am Santo

RENEWAL

Growth
Such vertiginous folly,
Were these paths
Vines
How thick and knotted
They’d knuckle
With the failure of shuttered hopes
And wasted first kisses,
Thorns marking
Every heartbreak,
Drawing beaded crimson
From pricked fingertips
Seeking to heal and affirm
Such restless waking
That fled beds at dawn,
Sherbet sun dripping
Across seed and sweat-soiled sheets.
Let the blood brown
As a lacquer of pained memory
And the vibrant flower of self flourish
At the site of wounds inflicted.
That throbbing trust
Cleaved, discarded, left to rot;
Every death dissolves into
A fresh return.
And the bud tentatively worships
At the alters of new flesh
Opening slowly
Healing
Even as the scars of past blooms
Breadcrumb mottled histories
And expose the imperfect branches
Beneath our renewed flowering,
Petals grasping
For the dizzying heights
Of adoring light.

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Published by Jason Santo on January 16, 2016 | Permalink

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NEW LIFE

These relic thoughts, swung loose in arid ground where a beating heart once strove, they’re unearthed by the gentle flutter of hope; dusted off through the soft kiss and attentive finger dance. And desert beliefs are awash in fresh rain, dawn’s dew clinging like lovers in morning, out of mourning, entangled in an oasis of promise after so many caustic miles traveled, beaten, tired. Such memories burdened as great stones, balanced precariously on straining shoulders and bent necks, eyes longing for something not a mirage, something real. Here it is. Glowing in the wet balance of newborn day, skin alight and flushed with desire, kindness urging growth and the broken mend, eyes straight, lips hungry for worship, the boulders of anguish dropped like yesterdays, weight banished. Such lightness here. Hands encircle and Spring awakens in the chest, verdant ventricles welcoming, budding dreams blossoming in realities; long forgotten faith washed clean and gleaming. download movie The Mummy now

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Published by Jason Santo on January 15, 2016 | Permalink

Strangling the sun, the air in suffocated gasps drawn through struggling lips; what an eclipse tongue plays over heart. In orbit, strangely in control of each hope, each sentiment, the two rarely align and mystery swirls in the spaces between, cracks and crags eager like wet sex for domination by the thick length of desire. Yet it’s illusion most foul, the deceit of now, of need and hunger. Fish swim in shallow waters, yet diners sit relaxed in warm sun awaiting fillets; ounces of sweat dripping not from effort, but from the lazy weakness of convenience. What’s deserved. What’s right. Each can march in line like lemmings. Each will die from greedy demand, from not trying; from not working toward difficult Heavens awarding patience, kindness, surety and strength. The gusts of yearning sweep easy heartbeats into barren futures instead. Collect. Merge. Fuck. Yell. Complacent gazes in cracked mirrors, in puddles on the floor, in the clear lakes of disdainful simplicity. What’s complex shocks systems worthy of sustaining the jolt of life’s paramount lust. Cast lines into deeper waters, thrust and suck, squeeze and tremble, but wait first. Wait, wait, wait, sick dear souls of unrest and lonely. Don’t leap at each swimming in periphery. Wait and choke for a while on today. Yesterday is larynx stuck. Tomorrow will either bring death or freedom, the demand of steady breath and heart ensuring kinder moonrises in the curl of together.

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#poem #poetry #writing #writer #poetic #creativewriting #igwriters #poetry_addicts #literary_imagery1 #igpoets #igpoems #mobileartistry #poetsofinstagram #writersofinstagram #story #love #nature #flowers #roses #pink #patience #graveyard #forresthillscemetary #jamaicaplain #boston (at Awaiting)

Published by Jason Santo on July 10, 2014 | Permalink

Rina sat on the edge of the high rocks and dangled her gangly legs over the crash of the sea below. It growled at her as if it were a circus lion set free on a cruel ringmaster, and so she faced the gray above and welcomed the cool mist covering everything as if the sky knew love. She would pretend when she was smaller that Earth was evil and the sky was good, so that every day basked in ceaseless adoration. And each night she would sleep with her back to the grim hold of the ground and leave herself open to the wheel of stars spinning over her. There were times when Rina felt she could leave the Earth, especially on Winter nights when Orion raised his sword and shield and protected the Heavens from the drunken screams of her mother and the John she had moaning above her in the next room. And when it was Rina’s turn to pay the rent, she hoped the ground would swallow their spilled seed while the sky would free her body from the bed. Yet neither had done their job and now she sat four months pregnant wanting to believe again in her childhood. At fourteen years old, Rina had lost faith in everything, but she had to believe just one more time. That freedom from the sick grip of men was only a breath away. And when she nudged herself over the edge, she felt joy in her brief flight. She knew the sky would hold her and her child forever next to brave Orion while the sea would wash away her sin.
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This begins a long-planned ten photo-story collaboration with the profoundly talented @peregrinasola. I have written #microfiction to five of her photos and she did the same to five of mine. No schedule for these, but they’ll appear in close proximity in feeds following both of us. Ranjana is an incredible person and of you don’t follow her, you really should! #jsrvcollab

#poem #poetry #writing #writer #poetic #creativewriting #igwriters #poetry_addicts #literary_imagery1 #igpoets #igpoems #mobileartistry #creativewriting #microfiction #story #flashfiction #shortstory #cliff #seacliff #ocean #sea #edge #overthedge #flowers #rocks

Published by Jason Santo on June 7, 2014 | Permalink

I want to open you up. I want to be your sun. I want to bring the wet, so just yeild to my tongue. I want to glide into welcome. I want surrender on approach. I want your mouth on mine, my hand gripping your throat. Let’s teach nature new tricks, let’s find new ways to kiss. Let’s breathe into each other and celebrate this tryst. You’ll catch Hell for living, you’ll stare straight in the eye. You’ll hide the good fortune, with a little white lie. The way your neck flushed red, the way your resistance fled. The way your wonder consumed you as we crashed onto your bed. It was the birth of regret, you knew it and said, “No we shouldn’t, my friend,” but it didn’t end. For each pull away, each dodge and fade. For each solemn sway and plead to stay. Was this need to reach, to tutor and teach. To show the affection so ready to breach. “Goddamn it, I love you,” the mind screamed, my hands driven wild on your flesh as I’d dreamed. And your body bent so lovely, so pefect and true. I whispered into your ear, “I’m mad about you.” And that wasn’t enough, it was too little a bud. To grow into something resilient and tough. So the moment was Spring rain on the arid desert land, stray kisses wasted on the back of your hand.

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(at Petals)

Published by Jason Santo on May 22, 2014 | Permalink

Come on. The cold relents. The biting frost disappears. The wounds of winter heal. Live. You’ve done it before. The roads threatened with their access to an end, the tuck and dive and screech and crush avoided by simple hopes. That next great meal. That next wonderful kiss. The next joke and beautiful day where the warmth of the sun falls and teases skin to freedom. Everything dies, including sorrow. Rage isn’t an endless spring. Loneliness is a state of transition. From once frozen ground, rendered lifeless by the caustic season of discontent arises a bud of hope. In even the most sterile terrain, life wins. It wins because the seed won’t be broken until it’s ready for the reach. Nature designed the shell crack in safety, and broken hearts mend, arms like shoots looking for complete. Embrace the light, taste the wet. Believe. Everything grows again. Even you.

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#poem #poetry #writing #writer #poetic #creativewriting #igwriters #poetry_addicts #literary_imagery1 #igpoets #igpoems #spring #flowers #garden #love #nature #renewal #hope #fuckwinter #seasons #rebirth #vernal #bloom #rain (at Rise)

Published by Jason Santo on May 2, 2014 | Permalink

Come on. The cold relents. The biting frost disappears. The wounds of winter heal. Live. You’ve done it before. The roads threatened with their access to an end, the tuck and dive and screech and crush avoided by shingle hopes. That next great meal. That next wonderful kiss. The next joke and beautiful day where the warmth of the sun falls and teases skin to freedom. Everything dies, including sorrow. Rage isn’t an endless spring. Loneliness is a state of transition. From once frozen ground, rendered lifeless by the caustic season of discontent arises a bud of hope. In even the most sterile terrain, life wins. It wins because the seed won’t be broken until it’s ready for the reach. Nature designed the shell crack in safety, and broken hearts mend, arms like shoots looking for complete. Embrace the light, taste the wet. Believe. Everything grows again. Even you.

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Published by Jason Santo on May 2, 2014 | Permalink