Written on Your Tomb Stone

What do you want your head stone to say?
What was your story?
Were you a mean son of a bitch?
Were you a crazy ass bitch?
What do you want written on your tomb stone?
Were you a heart breaker?
Were you a mender of hearts?
Were you an open wallet?
Were you a stingy penny pincher?
Were you a bitter slave?
Were you a happy free man?
Were you a train wreck?
Were you one who cleaned up after the wreck?
Were you selfish?
Were you a shy fish hiding in your shell?
Were you a flower who never bloomed?
Were you an opened up full of abundant life sun flower?
Was your heart a frozen tundra
Where people you were supposed to nurture died of starvation from your neglect?
Were you a fertile valley
Where people grew like trees
And the multitudes bloomed from your love?
Were you a discourager?
Were you an encourager?
Were you someone people ran from because all you caused them to feel was pain?
Did you draw people to you because of your love
Like a powerful magnet?
What will your head stone read?
Will there be a line of people at your wake
Tripping over themselves, waiting to eulogize you?
Will there be no one at your wake
Because no one bothered since you never bothered caring for others
What will your head stone read?

EVA SANTIAGO copyright2014

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Music is a drug
The best drug around
It alters your brain
It expands it causing it to travel places far away
What did writers of old do?
Did they write in silence?
Did they hire a whole orchestra
Maybe a single violinist
Putting ear buds on and listening to music is like:
Getting in a car and taking off destination unknown
Music fills an emptiness that words cannot
It’s like getting on a jet plane
Flying in the clouds
Cruising in the land of your dreams
Like boarding a ship
Sailing into an ocean
Of all your mixed up emotions
It’s like suiting up in a space ship
Traveling to another galaxy
To meet your new self.
EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2014