Month: October 2013
Blind Man’s Braille Part 3
To: RB
A kiss
Is eternal
There is a whole lot more going on
Than just skin to skin touching
A kiss is:
2 souls discovering through:
Touching
Reading each other’s secret language
As the blind read braille
With your fingertips read my story
Read what’s encoded upon my flesh
As you read me I come alive
As I read your braille
I learn that like me: We’ve both so much survived
Your cells all fashioned perfectly
To make an amazing man
I read you’re afraid
You read I am scared
I read you’re insecure
You read I am far from pure
I read that you worry if you’re good enough
You read that I accept you with all of your flaws
I read that you lack love
You read that I am gentle as a dove
I read you’re scared of the serpent
You read I am only as wise as one
I read you fear dying alone
You read, come here welcome home…..
EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013
Notes From My Amusing Muse
Art is all around us. Art like love has to be seen with the eyes of the heart first. What comes from the heart, goes to the heart. Whether it’s light or dark, matters not. Art is all around just like love is. If you’re blind, you’re going to miss it .Even the darkest of souls can produce breath-taking art. For you see, to  make art one must have faith in the unseen. It takes the tiniest seed of faith, like that of a mustard seed, to move mountains. So with a minuscule grain of belief, one can see the unseen, speak the unspoken, write the unwritten. Reach the unreachable, touch the untouchable,love the unlovable. Thaw out the glaciers in another’s soul. Start a bon fire in a heart full of ashes.
Art transcends time and space. As artists we grow frustrated because we live on a 2 dimensional plain;when we know that the 3rd dimension and dimensions beyond that  do  exist. We travel to those dimensions, while day dreaming and at night we continue dreaming with our eyes closed. Artists are time travelers. We journey there and bring back snap shots of it. Through our artistic expression, we pull the future into the now. We travel back in time using our passion as our time machine;we learn from the past’s light and dark moments. We honor fallen heroes. We keep the memory of our ancestors alive  and pay homage to them by telling their stories through different forms of self-expression. We stay in the present as well, knowing that above all, what matters most is living fully, NOW! We do so to capture it in its purest form so we can pass it down to unborn generations.
It takes courage to be an artist in our world, But then again,I believe all artists at all times have needed pluckiness as well. Leonardo Da Vinci and his plans for a flying machine; what did his contemporaries say when he showed them the sketches for it . Or, did he even have the nerve to show them? Mark Twain penned Captain Stormfield’s Visit to Heaven; a book that in my humble opinion is his best masterpiece. He worked on it through out his life and had it published posthumously. It took boldness to write his account oh how he saw heaven. Could it be he chose to protect his work from viscous critics and only to share it with the world once he vacated its premises?
It takes valor to live the life of an artist:
To write from your gut.
To dance your heart out.
To invent something that will help humanity.
To sing a new song to the heart-broken.
To compose symphony after symphony while you’re completely deaf. That must have taken Mr. Beethoven extra nerve.
It takes true grit to paint when you’re almost legally blind, Mr. Monet produced the best work of his career when he lost his sight.
It takes bravery to put a pencil to your mouth and draw amazing pictures when you’re a paraplegic in a wheelchair.
It takes gallantry to go from once having played the role of Superman;flying around in his red cape .Leaping over tall buildings in one single bound. To end up in a wheel chair for the rest of his life, yet touching the masses more than when he appeared on the silver screen.
What about the young Spaniard soccer player who hurt himself in a car accident and lost his passion for life when he couldn’t do what he loved most. Then he gets a guitar and turned world-wide recording artist.These and numerous more artists continue to beckon us all to follow our hearts and listen to our gut
Art creates ambience. Art instills feeling and gives a place its soul.Art is alive and has a heart beat, Even dark,moody art can inspire;it can let us know we’re not alone in our own darkness. Art can make you feel a mess inside and it can quiet your restless heart. 3 little letters combine to make such a powerful word.Like love, which is one letter more; the shortest words can create beauty or wreak havoc.
Perhaps artists are closest to God‘s heart because we’re foolish enough to see the unseen,then we believe it and finally,we make something from nothing. There is love,there is faith and then, there’s art. The 3 work together,always to benefit us all.
EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013
His Guitar Menagerie
He picked her up
He ran his sinewy hands on her curvy body
He touched all of her contours deliberately
Every finger he placed on her neck was calculated
Her long neck he studied inch by inch
His rough hands traveled further south
Until he reached her opening
He had been looking for a certain sound
He’d been at this search of his for quite some time now
He knew the price of a good instrument
Searched high and low for The One
A trained musician was he
Willing to pay top dollar for her
And one day he found me….
He saw me and knew what he’d found
He ran his  rough hands on my curvy body
He touched all of my contours deliberately
Every finger he placed on my neck was calculated
My long neck he studied inch by inch
His hands traveled further south
Until he reached my opening
I was that sound he’d been looking for
And since he claimed to be an expert musician,I let him in
Only to find out soon enough, I’d be treated like he treated his prized guitars
I thought with me he’d be different
I was after all, his highest commodity
His most valued of all his possessions
I could not have been more wrong
For you see, he was deaf all along
And he’d never planned on hearing my song
From day one he’d said
“My guitar is my other woman.”
I should have known with him
I’d be good as dead
With him I’d grow old
And become one of his old unsung hymns
But I thought I’d give him a try
C’mon someone had to break and get in right?
It damn near cost me my sanity
It damn near cost me my life
It damn near cost me my sight
He treated me like one of his fucking guitars
Year in and year out
On my heart
He placed a dark mark
Pretty soon he put me in a corner
Right next to his cherry red Strat
Right next to his rosewood Gibson
Below was his onyx colored Fender
Above me, the queen of us all: His 12 string
We all were there collecting dust
Over the years he’d grow dissatisfied and he’d trade one of us in
To him this trade-off was no big thing
Living with an insane guitarist
I became the outsider
Looking in on his guitar museum
Like a lone drifter, like a wandering tourist
And that’s how it came to be
He treated me like one of his fucking guitars
All of his moves although as smooth as can be
Were lacking of passion:Â Cold,rehearsed and calculated
And day by day
I felt as if I was going insane
And night by night
I gave up and I never again sang
Until the day came
When I found my dignity
And I decided to vacate the premises
Of his mad guitar museum
I said good-bye to his Strat
I told her to stop being a spoiled brat
I kissed Gibson on the cheek
And told her to stop being so weak
He’s been done with you-last time he touched you was more than a week
Then I saluted the queen-the 12 string
And she looked at me
With a little envy
She knew like all the rest
I was leaving for good
He soon found out I was done
And he was suddenly alarmed
Even asked me with his voice trembling,
” Why do you seek to bring me harm?”
I told him, ” I’m not yours. I never was. I can never compete with your other woman
That’s right, stay with your precious guitars
I am not made of wood
I am not made of metal
You never planned to make me your number one
You never cared. You never could
I refuse to be part of your guitar menagerie
You’ve brought me great misery
I have been in great agony
Why I stayed for so long
Is truly a grave mystery
It has even killed my song
I have to go find it again
Take care. So Long!”
And I walked out the front door
And suddenly I heard a crashing noise
Behind me there, on the red tile floor
He’d smashed his queen-the 12 string
She lay there in bits
By then it was too late
I was out of there…I had found my wings
EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013
Canned Anything Sucks
Canned prayers are like canned potato chips,canned soup or any kind of canned food. Canned food lacks vital nutrients necessary to sustaining our bodies. When we pray, God wants to hear each of our own distinct spirits; our spirit has its own unique voice. When your child asks you for something,,you hear their own unique voice. So why do religious people recite their religious prayers and incantations over and over? God doesn’t want canned voices that all sound the same  millennia after millennia. Remember the old sit-coms ? You hear canned laughter in the back ground right? That means those voices we hear in those old TV shows are probably coming from dead people. We need fresh, un-canned expressions TODAY, not  from the past.
The disciples learned to pray from their Teacher. He didn’t tell them to recite The Lord’s prayer ; that was just a prayer manual, one they could follow and learn how to approach the King . Certainly not to say the same words over and over. Oh how religion wants everyone to be a Pringle’s Potato chip: All the same shape,same taste, all fit neatly together stacked in a metal can.. I believe heaven and its citizens crave to hear each unique voice on earth.
Unique self expression is the most powerful weapon a person can use. Your own voices unleashes things into the atmosphere and sets things in motion in the universe. Not one star is the same.Not one snow flake is the same. So why do people try so hard to be like some one else? Even our brains are wired differently. No 2 people on planet earth think exactly the same. So it’s reasonable that we’re all different voices  and each one of us must utter what is in our hearts to set things in motion. The Bible is not a here is what to say to God type of book. It goes beyond that. It’s a how to approach heaven using your own voice to unlock what is yours through the power of your own distinct expression. Heaven remains locked up when no one dares to step forward to use their own voice.
Martin Luther set the religious system upside down by nailing his own unique expression to the door of the established church. The whole universe was in an uproar when Galileo defied religion’s rules that dictated how the universe runs. Where are The Martin Luthers and Galileos of our time? Stand up and be heard if you’re one of them!!
” The Bible teaches how to get to heaven not how the heavens go.” -Galileo
EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013
Your Beauty Hides Inside Your Beast
You hurl insults
Like a monkey hurls feces
Like a hippo in a battle
Like a stampede of angry cattle
You hurl insults so fast
In the presence of your temper
You,your shadow cast
You’re bitter about everything
You there, the girl with the short past
No one is safe
From your bitter distemper
You’re the heroin
In your own self-made dramas
Oh please,please,please,child
Save the drama from everyone
Keep it far,far from your Mama
So STOP!!
Stop acting like such a beast
A beast of prey
You’re the beauty
In your own self-created beast
Only you have the answers inside
To appease your own beast
Cease and desist
You’re on the wrong road
Cease and desist
Go find your prince to kiss
He is there,on that lowly toad
Get up off that low road
You’ve traveled on it for so long
Life really isn’t such a terrible load
C’mon, come up higher
Humble yourself and dwell in your humble abode
You’re the beauty inside your own beast
Let her come out to play
Let her be herself every once in a while
Stop being fake;put off that costume today
BE YOURSELF!
Have your own style
Empower yourself
The time to change is NOW
Please,no further delay
BE YOUR OWN HERO…
Eva Santiago copyright 2013
Flavorless Salt
Too many people
Think they know too many things
Fact is they only know facts
In the end we know nothing at all
What happens when we fall?
We fall from:
Grace
Our place
A tree
We fall out of:
A window
LOVE
An Airplane
Hot air balloons
We fall into:
Arms
Beds
Chairs
Water
We fall into:
Despair
When we think things aren’t fair
Then we feel sorry for ourselves
And some one should kick us in the rear
We fall into despair
When a shit we don’t give
And we think no one cares
Then we go molly grubbing
And we stay there a while
Think it’s ok
To not one single fuck give
And let’s never again smile
What we forget is:
To give is to live
Take what’s not yours
And die a little inside
Take and not give
You become full of holes
Like an old sieve
And now life sifts right through you
You’ll have to be thrown out
Like flavorless salt.
EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013
PAINT!
PAINT!
The canvas doesn’t lie
So don’t be a pesky ‘lil fly
The canvas is my friend
On it my frustrations die
The paints on my brush
They quiet and they hush
My ever aching soul
My ever aching heart
Wet paint is my balm
To smooth out all the wrinkles
To soothe and calm my soul
The paints oh how they calm!
My canvas can be anything I choose:
Cotton,linen,paper,rock
This is where I never lose
Rock-paper-scissors
The canvas is better than a lover
I can be me
I can discover
I can fly
I can swim
I can sink
I can fling paint angrily
Or I can use paint sparingly
The canvas is my silent partner
My accomplice
Together we conspire
It knows my long-held desire
It knows who lights my fire
It senses when conditions are dire
It directs me as when to retire
The canvas is my date
It never stands me up
It never arrives late
It is quite the perfect play mate
It never keeps me waiting
It never says it’ll call
And then it doesn’t
it never looks for an excuse
I’d rather paint than be out dating:
An idiot
A moron
A clown
A buffoon
Better to paint
So my heart won’t faint
So whether you use:
Brushes
Knives
Even your 10 fingers
Your cat’s very tail
Yeah, that’s how they got 9 lives!
Paint your troubles away
When you feel lonely
PAINT!
When you feel”
bad,mad,sad:
PAINT!
When you feel misunderstood:
PAINT!
When you hear,” You should…”
Don’t should on yourself:
PAINT!
When chaos is your daily bread:
PAINT!
When you feel as good as dead:
PAINT!
Identify your pain in the paint
Look pain in the eye
Use it to your advantage
Then lose your pain in the paint
Paint and grow wings
Those wings will cause your to soar
You’ll leave normal behind
You’ll not be the same for ever more
PAINT!
EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013
Blind Man’s Braille Pt 2
You are blind to love
It really is a game
Of blind man’s bluff
You look for love here
Maybe it’s there
Maybe it’s everywhere
Maybe it’s nowhere
You’re blind to love
Let me tell you how it is
The blind need seeing dogs
The blind need walking sticks
The blind need Braille
Oh, let those who have ears to hear:
LISTEN!
Oh, let those who have eyes to see:
LOOK!
For the blind can feel love
From a mile in the air
The blind can feel love
From a mile below the deepest ocean
The blind can see love
And you who can see, miss it…
Let me be your blind man’s Braille
On my flesh is the code
Run your fingers upon me
Feel how I tremble when you do
Caress my soft flesh
As I set you free with my code
Walk your fingers on my skin
Read me slowly
Read me fast
Read me backwards
Read me forward
And you will learn one thing:
I am your blind man’s Braille
My love for you will never fail
I am your blind man’s Braille
Read me
And set yourself free
I am your blind man’s Braille
Read me
And feel yourself set sail
I am you blind man’s Braille
When you feel old
When you feel stale
Read me and live
Read me and forgive
I am your blind man’s Braille
Read me
And learn of The ONE who took for you that nail
I am your blind man’s Braille
When you’re in fear
Read me…
And know for certain true love is here….
EVA SANTIAGO Copyright 2013
Blind Man’s Braille
I found God in your kiss Â
God is breath
We all carry His breath
Until our last day
Until our death
I found God in your kiss
A moment of pure bliss
One I’d never miss
One I can’t easily dismiss
I found God in your touch
Like a blind man
Your fingertips caress my flesh
I am your blind man’s braille
My love for you will never fail…
I found God in your eyes
I heard God in your sighs
The darkness is a place of lies
Everytime we kiss-
The darkness in me dies
Everytime we touch-
I become stronger
I can stand longer
So I throw away my crutch.
Eva Santiago copyright 2013