I Am Santo

Fiction, poetry, music and mindscape pictures by creative artist Jason Santo

Ingenue

Chin high, shoulders up
Wishes clarion in eyes
Carrying allure
Like beaded water that traces
Those fertile curves
And exacts the dendrite push,
The endocrine longing
Of instinct’s furious boil.
The sting of new day
Is the lament of yesterday,
Opportunities not taken
As her gaze lowers
And lioness confidence
Envelopes four-walled solitude
Of this starved prairie.
The claim of naïveté
Unhinges
Loosely buttoned-up willpower
Of fear, nervous wonder, awe.
And the wavering now
Thinly reaches between two
As the draw to become one
Gnashes a seductive grin
On the last chance to beg
For fallow hope.
One snap
And the complexion of fresh haste
Flushes with torrid crimson,
A tide swallowed by the moon
Of fierce attraction
And her irrefutable, lithe hunger
That turns this belly skyward
As if there never were opportunity
To escape unscathed.

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I believe in the faith
Of a thousand turtles
Guided by belief
Driven by instinct.
It’s like this affection.
Natural and willing
The culmination of
Desire and need,
Greed and lust,
These eggs we bury
On the shoreline
Of togetherness.
It’s a beautiful hunger.
Awaking with hard yearning,
The blush of heated skin
Awaiting lips and tongue,
Eager hands and thoughts
That burn like the veins
Of crisp fallen leaves
In this longest autumn;
Camouflage immolation,
We uncover our common ground
And clear away our obscuring fear.
Oh how beautiful
This fire that we welcome.
How reveaking with its
Licks and purge,
A climax of untold intensity
Tearing though body and mind,
Tensing muscle and stealing breath,
A serum of joy and pain
Administered to those bold enough
With open hearts
Cleared of the debris of yesterday
That littered the stumbling,
Broken and misguided
Attempts at adoration
That felt as natural as sunrise
But were always dusks
Making it impossible to see
Ourselves.
So now these eyes snap open
As the air grows cold
And this body feels starved
Of moaning bliss.
But Spring’s promise
Is in the hearth of loneliness
And I warm myself,
My sandy-limbed
And salt-sweat beliefs
Exactly where they are
Suppose to be;
Dreaming of you.
Buried in the season
Of us.

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#poem #poetry #poetic #igwriters #instawriter #writersofig #poetsofig #igpoets #igpoems #mobileartistry #creativewriting #fiction #flashfiction #writing #writer #story #shortstory #microfiction #poetrycommunity #igwriters #ocean #sunrise #dawn #morning #beach #sand #hope #shore (at Instinct)

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It’s all owed to you. The carry and sacrifice and the frightening tear of nature that untethers life from your own, like planets spun from suns. You, that sun, that center around which we orbit, sing and dance. How you are loved. Don’t you know? Regardless of the way we drift, as if comets loosed from your tenacity, the return is inevitable. Forever connected, your pull rivals gravity and denies physics. Say “I love you” and the heart blossoms in a way no lover can nurture, no friend can prop up, no journey to the sea can impress. Whatever seed this all sprouted from, there’s your gracious illumination and limitless patience feeding the breach of soil and embrace of life. How you perform miracles! How you foster and enchant, your care the template for affection to be followed closer than any book’s law. Your allowance builds magnificent arrogance in the face of nature. Your permission grants progress and endeavor. Your practice is divinity governing over the success and failure of every day’s cycle of breath. Celebrated and ignored, loathed and awarded, embraced and forgotten, time cannot refute connection even if biology plays no part in this great theater. Sire nothing from your own womb – be a man if that’s fate’s gambit – but mother, for the root feeds our splayed fingers grasping for fistfuls of tomorrow. We are born starving and fed hope, a debt never expected to be repaid, but instead are imprinted to teach through our own informed hearts. We love because you did, our stars proving there’s light in the dark of forever.

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Sincerest respect and love to every mom of every type out there. If you nurture, this one is for you. But especially you, @ssblueseyes. Not just today, but every day.

#poem #poetry #writing #writer #poetic #creativewriting #igwriters #poetry_addicts #literary_imagery1 #igpoets #igpoems #mobileartistry #mothersday #mother #ocean #sea #beach #shore #dawn #sunrise #child #winter #snow #latergram (at Origin)

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The cataract bleed of morning streamed into the blur of crooked life. It’s the viscious haven for a thief that long ago replaced lock picks with words, dexterity with eloquence. What’s of value is the soft kiss, the moan, the candlelight flicker on the anguished face of ecstasy. Her dream under his plying effort, the wet answer to his stumbling logic, fallible will and toxic grin. “Let her love me,” he prays to the night and the stars laugh, light failing over their million year flight to the changing face of her beneath him. The moon hid, sang the thin song of distant cicada, and she disappeared in a tangle of hair and sweat, hot breath and the expired wick. A pinch of smoke swirled and she was gone. Empty paragraphs lined the walls of the sun’s triumph, palms exposed, heart vacant any hold despite trust, kindness, and fierce tumble. Awake but thoroughly in slumber, a dawn’s brilliance stutters at the door of this longing. Winning time and again robs the lottery of its worth, and shows the whole affair a rigged set where success isn’t earned, but is stolen with flatline veracity. Belief is the waft of her perfume hanging in the morning air. And it is just as transient.

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#poem #poetry #writing #writer #literary_imagery1 #poetry_addicts #poetic #poet #words #igpoetry #imagesandwords #sleep #morning #lovely #window #dawn #sunrise #sun #mobileartistry

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The accordion slide of days, with hours squeezed from dawn and released after dusk, sets minutes to measured tones. Low notes suffocate. Highs liberate. And each compression unpredictably threatens discord to open souls, divine fingers either imperfect in their play or malicious. So close off, lock up, place a grand shield over a hole in which to lay as if cold ground were womb. No chances taken, the melodies of Earth’s spin die; the hidden now deaf to the music of God calling for fearless living. It’s a perilous shoreline to tread, jagged and windswept with tides that urge a return to the sea, but no siren lays a trance – it’s all choice. Live, die, love, fuck, hide, breathe, cry, wonder. Know! Fight! Be better than the moonrise, stronger than the sun’s claim, and louder than the aria of time. Scream for freedom, tear clothes from hungry flesh and brave the cold mystery of futures stretching from the edge of the world. They will reach. And in the shiver of acceptance, fear will flirt at every corner, but faith will warm as a hot stone on thin ice, melting the hard, smoothing the sharp, allowing passage to rich depths that await. To drown is chance, but to find bottom is certainty. Plummet, welcome the descent and then crack and leave the shell behind, rising to the surface as air, cresting in union with the great anthem of life – it’s your music. Don’t hide. Listen. Live. Be. #poetry #poet #poem #hope #sunrise #beach #shore #snow #clouds #silhouette #poetry_addicts #mobile_artistry (at Big Big World)

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The unborn hopes of a future came to them as a child from the clouds. Arms spread and hovering benevolently over the still waters of their present, they stared in awe, hands held tight for the first time since their trouble began. “Is it possible this could happen?” he asked. She unlocked her fingers from his, clearing a tear from her eye, and in the gray morning light he was again reminded – as he always was whenever he looked at her – of how beautiful she was and how wrong he’d been about himself and her. She remained silent, staring at the shapes of the sky grown eerily welcome, and he deduced fate had finally intervened to end their Cold War. Then, quite suddenly she answered. “No,” was her flat reply and his heart was confetti at a funeral once again. She turned her back on the sun and sky and walked away, but he didn’t blame her because he’d been the one to rob Heaven of wonder; he’d been the one that pissed on hope. #sky #storm #morning #dramatic #writer #writing #shortstory #dark #clouds #sunrise (at False Hopes)

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Flush with beauty. Sun-kissed, body thriving. Dreams of Heaven’s corridors, so close. So close. Falling. Sought and found. Careening bliss. Hunger exposed, appetite sated. Sweat and breath. Longing. Sleeplessness, worry stones heavy in stomach. Plummeting. Always gorgeous, but failing. In light. In desire. In hope. Failing and upended, dropped into the sky. Passing misty beliefs. Grasping, clawing for the retreating Earth. Losing sight of home. Broken. Yearning. Stuck in orbit, spying through glass the familiar, the absent. Eyes cry rain, the world curdling with each drop. #sky #dawn #clouds #sunrise #daybreak #poem #poetry #writer #writing #literary_original #literary_imagery1 (at Ruin)

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I’m going to blow this day apart, add fire to the sun and lay waste to every particle of dawn until it bleeds incandescent hate into the night, stealing splendor from the stars; murdering light-years of hope from cold stones lost in the void eons ago. Flatten each moment into a string of coalescing electrons searching for a charge and finding nothing but the caustic burn of my unforgiving failures. It wasn’t on purpose, this war waged, just a stumble of longing that led to devastation; the charring of a peaceful world throttled into rebirth, hopeful Phoenix searching for familiar skies. #sunrise #heavyedit #birthday #39 #oneyearleft #clouds #sky #morning #poem #poetry #writer #writing (at A War)

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These are the first footfalls. Grand designs await in lingering dawns where your hands will shake with nerves and sweat will bead at your hairline, expectation and fear in equal measure feeding your freight-train pulse; rich emotion seizing your every resource. I hope the small victories prepare you, that when your heart swells or breaks, I’m still waiting for you at the base of the steps you work down, arms open and smiling, my words in your ears, “I love you. You are so good, so strong. I love you.” No sun knows the brilliance of you, and your life will illuminate countless others with the rays of your humor, creativity, and curiosity. Each day’s beginning awaits your spirit to give a sunrise beauty; each sunset awaits your tired resign to be pronounced final. And in between there’s so much courtesy, mindfulness, brash flight, stubborn desire, upside-down thrills and the pour of your generous way. #steps #stairs #sunrise #dawn #play #son #child #boy #cute #love #writer #writing #poetry #poem (at Small Victories)

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On the other side of your gray, I’m bathed in orange nectar; touching that thin membrane holding us here, gliding fingers across cold winds as if learning your skin, piercing souls gathered below in lazy congress. Featureless haze blankets your sun while mine lies open, bare, a reminder of forgotten goals placed further than my reach. It’s a beautiful treachery, this reminder, a soft tugging at the ache of resignation masquerading as indifference. Swaddling in the cotton of misgivings aborts temptation, hiding the bright nurture of candid desires that gather at dawn, and again at dusk, playing at the corners of your complacency. You turn away as I stare directly into the light, blinded. #poem #poetry #sky #clouds #airplane #sunrise #dawn #writer #writing #aisleseatsmakeforcrapphotos (at Glimpse)

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