Para Que La Vida

Para que la vida
What is life for?
Is it for you?
Is it for me?
Is it for living in fear?
Is it for the selfish?
Is it for the selfless?

Para que la vida?
What is life for?
Photos are proof that we lived
That we had an existence
That people were by our side
And sometimes we loved them from a distance.

Para que la vida?
What is life for?
If you’re not with the one you love
Is life worth living?
Sure it is
Because none of us always get what we want
For me life is forever worth living

Para que la vida?
What is life for ?

EVA SANTIAGO COPYRIGHT 2013

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Wild Things

Wild things
They grow in the dark
They grow in the mud
They grow and multiply
Everyone has wild things
That they willingly deny
Wild things
They make our hearts race
They make us feel alive
They set the pace
Make you wanna fly to outer space

Wild things
We fear them
For they go against the norm
Of what we were taught
We never feared wild things
That was until the day
We learned to perform
And to not resist the norm

Wild things:
People
Places
Things
Wild things give us wings

And we retreat when they appear
Because the voices of should, shall and shant
Have instilled in us all a fear
Fear the wild things
They cry beg plead and implore,
“Don’t go there!” They scream,
“Don’t ever your world explore!”

Aahhh but explore we must!
For wild things beckon us to come out and play
Try this food
Play this game
It might be good
If you don’t try something new
You’ll always  stay the same

Wild things
View them as a babe
Who was just born
Slaves kills what’s wild
They’ve lost their sight
They fear what’s wild
Whipped into submission
By the rod of a misguided child

Wild things:
Embrace them is to live
You die when you choke them.

Eva Santiago copyright 2013

Pasión…

She reached out and no one was there
Her hand stretches out
And all around is a void
She retrieves it
The emptiness kills
Her hope wavers
Like a flickering flame
Passion is trapped
Deep
Way
Down

It hurts
It stews
It brews

Adeepache
From whose clutches
Youcannotescape

P

A

S

S

I

O

N

Is a no man’s land
A place of no return
The few who survive it
Leave their heart’s ashes in an urn

The rest of us live in her clutches

A child is born from the passion of two
The artist’s canvas is covered
In many a hue
The artist’s passion seldom understood but by a few

Then there is the passion of the widower
He buried her a spell ago
In a cold charcoal coffin
Next to his childhood love
Who grew wings and flew to the heavens above

The passion of unrequited love is the cruelest of all:
To love only to see none of it returned
By one who knows of that love
By one so trapped by fear
His love grew wings and flew to the heavens above
Where he thought it would be safe
Where he thought no one would go
Then one day he saw-
Her-
Standing there right where he left her
And he grew much afraid
Leaving her behind was his biggest mistake
And now all these years later
High mileage in his soul
His fears drowned her
Deep

Way

Down

Deepinsidehim

That sort of passion
Is one you never recover from
Just like a strange fashion
You try to own it and wear it
And it never suits you
Aaahhhh but if only you’d listen to your heart
That sort of passion
Is where your life should end and not start

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013