On an unseasonably cool July morning in Chicago, equivalent to David Copperfield, Judge Santiago Burdon was born on a Friday.  The Bronte sisters, Keats, Burns and especially Dickens inspired his study of English Literature. He attended Universities in the United States, London and Paris focusing his studies on Victorian novels and authors.

His short stories and poems have been featured in a variety of magazines, on-line zines and podcasts;  The Remnant Leaf, Stay Weird  and Keep Writing, The Dope Fiend Daily, Independent Writer’s Blog, Spillwords, The Beatnik Cowboy, Down in the Dirt Magazine, Eskimo Pie, The Stray Branch, Anti-Heroin Chic, Raven Cage, Horror Sleaze Trash, Across The Margin, The Story Pub, Punk Noir, Synchronized Chaos, Mad Swirl,  to list a few. Judge was named in 2020 edition of “Who’s Who of Emerging Writers. “

 His first book, “Stray Dogs and Deuces Wild Cautionary Tales” was published in January 2020 by HST Press, his second is due out May of 2021. There is also a book of poetry “Not Real Poetry” planned for publication in December. He is presently engaged in finishing his novel “Imitation of Myself.” A non-fiction story detailing  his experiences as a drug runner for a Mexican Cartel. Judge celebrated his 67th birthday last July and lives modestly in Costa Rica.

   Imitation of Me

I have never professed to know much, although what I do know,

is there’s a distance between want and need, the road is plagued with storms, the rain in time causes your ambition to rust,  your ego begins to bleed, your hunger doesn’t entitle you admission, to take part in the soul feast, you, still believing no one’s pain is greater than your own, convinced you’ve paid your dues, fate now owes you, but you’ve defaulted on the loan.

Your want is always a demand, to please an image reflected in a selfish mirror,  you’re damned to keep counting blessings, coming up short, then feeling cheated, out of what was never yours. And you ask why your prayers go unanswered, your self indulgent wishes are ignored, worshiping the two dollar Talisman, bought at the thrift store, it has exhausted any cosmic goodwill  it never had  before, turns out  to be just another poor choice, as a last resort. if a line between  right and wrong ever existed, you snorted it long ago, and a conscience you considered an encumbrance, was shedd in liability’s shadow.

I’ve lived in life’s underbelly, a deplorable existence, the reward for addiction and a troubled mind, been to places where God wouldn’t go, acting on a drug’s bad advice, I’ve learned the less I wanted, the more I understood what it is I need, it rains diamonds on Neptune, and there’s blue sunsets on Mars, but what do I know,

I’m just an imitation of me.

I Did Once

Does he touch you with deep cabernet dreams, or is it all white wine passion, does your heart race from his nearness, is there surrender in his scent, does he tempt you, does he leave you breathless, are you tantalized with jalapeno kisses, like butterflies stinging spicy pleasure on your inner thighs, does he entice you, do you feel wicked and waxened, do you scream bruja’s incantations, moan verses of ancient runes, is your orgasm seismic, does he read like a mystery with a hint of gypsy blood, does he consume you, can he make you laugh in color, does he feed your madness calm your storm, does he feel betrayed by your shadow, is he envious and jealous of your light, does he sit in stillness while you listen to your muse, does he make you feel whole, does he, does he, i  did once,

didn’t i?

Growing Old

I'm sitting here thinking about my folks
It feels like years since I've been home
I've got a feeling like I'm homesick
But it's something more
My thoughts are running wild 
In this warm desert air
Imagining that I'm there
I hear those old dogs barking 
As I walk up the road
It's sad because I never seem to find the time
To even write them  a couple of lines
It's always phone calls home 
For the Holidays
When I was young they found time for me
They worked so hard to raise a family
Now all the kids have grown
And they've grown old
Nothing more to show except for growing old

Somehow it doesn't seem right
My parents raised me then almost overnight
I heard the wind call my name
I was gone
It causes me to  wonder what they get in return 
For all the years of love and concern
I guess the person I've become is their only reward
Whenever I was down on my luck
My ole man he'd slip me a couple of bucks
And never made me feel like any less of a man
Now I've found it's not money or gifts they give
I've been a taker all these years I've lived
I never realized the true worth of their lives
The gift they give comes from their souls deep inside
That's something you can't buy

I've put so many miles between me and them 
It's gotten so easy to pretend
There's no debt owed
I've got a life of my own
After all these years I hope it's not too late
To let them know I'm proud of my name
And have a chance to thank them 
For everything they've done
Now I'm haunted  by memories 
Of the way things used to be
I can hear them both calling me home
Please take me back to my younger days
I've been cheated by yesterday
I was never told 
I'd have to watch them grow old
I didn't know they'd get so old
When did they grow so old
Growing old

I'm sitting here thinking about my folks