I Am Santo

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

Sea Through

Are we flawless? No, windows dirty just as skin blemishes and thoughts corrupt the way lead paint chips. Death ensures imperfection yet we rage on with wild presumption and hand to mouth eagerness, our feasts a staggering display of gluttony awarded long ago only to the clergy conscripted; the divinely ordinanced few now have to share. On these pebbled banks, marine histories awash with salted avarice, the taste of yesterdays spilling like seed from stroked cock; it’s here where lovers leap and quarrel, where intentions reef and coral. The sea claims, rejects, reclaims, our brine mirror muddied with the push pull of these throbbing, misgiven hearts. What a bore, bronzing bottoms and bobbing breasts before barbarous breakers. Play along, creaming steaming skin seething to cancer, gambling health for beauty, longevity for youth. Garish desires suckle at the tit of this paradise, mother’s milk a constant yearning culled collectively by the tight grips, the pursed lips, of progress. Build, build, build into oblivion, dance, dance, dance among Phrygian spit gilded by Midas touch and Stygian row, collapse now, breathe and bare. Sunstung, radiant, smoothed, the beholders are many, sated, soothed, eyes lovingly fed, will neither here nor then but ebbing and eddying, pooling to make deep marks on forever shifting sands. Allure is the blessing of a moment, locked into long memory by first tastes and yearned for by all this dying, the cracks in our glass marring our transparency. Looking glass why do you promise anything more than what was? Because incarcerating time for all it has stolen is an addiction.

(at Barceloneta)

Trapped by the flood of circumstance and the ardor of impossibly attained lust, the net cast, the zeros and ones of outrageous fortune that cling to hearts literate in the great languages of binding, abiding, yearning, desiring. Rocky shores threaten shipwrecked delight and moonlight reveals skeletons awash in the salt of uncommon release, cracked ribcages once housing fierce throbbing cores that dared to stand against calamitous tides and Hellspun winds. Coaxed and nuzzled in gentler times, licked from end to end by tongues wet with an appetite for the original sin; the apple was devoured and rich runoff drizzled the chins of this maiden’s suitors who rose, strong-kneed from the sea, stumbled at the sandy grace of her tremble, spent seed with her name on their lips, and then disappeared again into the static of urgent life, drowning despite the binary tether holding them to their mythical lover. The ocean is too big to allow Heaven, so it gives and takes away with its lunar God laughter.


Original photo by @zeusnursemaiden with whom I adore collaborating. Thank you for sending me this shot and for allowing me to once again explore your beauty with words.

#poem #poetry #writing #writer #poetic #poetry_addicts #literary_imagery1 #creativewriting #beauty #sea #ocean #woman #lovely #doubleexposure #waves #curves #nature #sensual #sensual_women

(at Sea Maiden)

Cast from the simple joy of limitless embrace, she’s absent a lifeline to what’s come before. Their past was hunger and nervous voices, words left in the high static of satellite assistance and baud packets dropped, found, throttled and connected as drops of their torrid union sweat on the windows of neither’s home. The sea and the shell, saltwater’s organic pull and release is a tide gone low and now drawn so far back that the break of his desire is obscured by an unkind sun. She begs for her sky to crumble with a longing made of hurricane force; her yearning a cloud bloom bringing rain and a torrent of win. Yet it’s virtual, pixelated dreams of better lives spent with bare feet seaside. Next to him and joining him, yet only through displays and tiny speakers where names cried are tinny whispers in seashells. In her, the sound of his voice is greater than a cliff rock surge, loud enough to careen and echo through thousand mile adversity. To her, his volume drowns the the buzz of familarity and writes new passages in books without pages. There’s caught a view of him now and again, the white cresting rage of his ardor and the stinging blue of his eyes over rolling dunes that set the rhythm to each day’d cycle. She swoons fresh, relishing the thought of his return, the simple acknowledgement small eddies of his attention reward. “It’s grand scale beauty,” she decides and she can see his reflection in a distant sky as signs of his watching, and she is right, even as the undertow swallows others in digital capture. Just words on screens, as plentiful as grains on this beach. Just kisses and weakness. Strong winds will knock it all down. The rising tide inevitable and worth her wait.


#poem #poetry #writing #writer #literary_imagery1 #poetry_addicts #poetic #poet #words #igpoetry #seashell #sea #ocean #waves #beach #sand #nofilter #hamptonnh #newhampshire #seacoastnh (at She Waits)

Bending light as greedy lovers would their bodies in heated union, flashes of electric brilliance glimmer unpredictably. Submerge mind in body in this rapture, soak in every moment of her stinging chill, air rushing from shocked lungs as eyes press shut and ears mute from the world’s hurry. Sensual paradise, breaking to the surface, draw in new breath, stand, uncurl as rippled light and collapse into her embrace again, renewed. #water #light #sunlight #ripples #summer #words #poetry #writing #waves #artiseverywhere #swimming #love