Archive for April, 2015

Like what you see? Follow link and donate. https://life.indiegogo.com/fundraisers/one-month-with-my-kids  It’s for a good cause. More info in the link.

My name is Michael Santana, for all of you who doesn’t know me yet. I am an artist, musician, poet, producer, and father of two children. My children currently live with their mother in Florida and I live in Houston and due to distance I only have the ability to see them one month a year. I am currently doing all I can to get everything prepared for their arrival in June. As part of this preparation, I am attempting to use my creative ability to provide the means for any monetary needs that may occur during their stay with me.

The idea of this page is to seek caring givers that are willing to help either by buying one of my products or making a donation. These funds will be used to aid with the expenses such as airline tickets, a place to stay during their visit, and other things they might need. Speaking openly, I am relying on the good will of the people to help me be with my children again.

I am willing to offer my talents to obtain the goal required. An example of the things that I can do for someone who donates would be drawing a digital picture. As aforementioned, I have finished work for sale.

To know more about the fundraiser and how to donate here’s the link https://life.indiegogo.com/fundraisers/one-month-with-my-kids

When I wrote this, I did with a lot of guilt and hurt in my heart. This is dedicated to one of my mentors. One of the most honest, struggling person I’ve met. Your faith has saved you and now you’re with your Lord.

Memoir

Nobody remembers the dead
When they were alive, we might as well forgot about them
Everyone pretends not to know who they were
The life they spend with sacrifice, with love, with pain.
This ghost haunts inside my head
No, I wasn’t the biggest friend nor was I there at the end
Everything I promised I would do for, I never did
This is a heavy weight I have to live with, and nothing else
In times like this, you realize you could have done so much more.

Now they rest
They don’t need of your support anymore
You don’t need to visit them when they’re sick
You don’t need to remind them how much you love them
You don’t need to worry about how their doing
You don’t need to worry how they feel;
If they’re hungry, sad, or alone.
Now they’re in a better place, where they’re being taken care of.

Parents mourn their child
When life runs backwards
And the young die before the old
No parent can stand to see their child being sick
No parent can stand to see their child suffer
No parent should witness their child die
And no parent should bury their own child
The thought of Heaven isn’t comfort enough
When you’re hurting because of the loss
But the strength’s in the will of the host
And sometimes instead of fighting is best to rest
Is not about giving up but about letting go
When your name is being called
And with a smile you respond to your caller
You leave a gleam of hope for those down here
Who do still remember.

kissinshadow

Automatic Magnets

Sexual beings doing sexual things when their mood is on
Well, all these things can be fun when you push all the right buttons
The core of the eyes are wired to the electric impulses
A word or a move; a reaction towards the reactor: automatic magnets.

There’s something “evil” about the way we desire it all
A storm in our hormones, our animal instincts have needs as well
Nothing scientifically logic when all you want is to feel…
Your skin upon somebody else’s skin; the best rush of dopamine.

Nothing is forever, might as well take the chance present at the moment
Tomorrow is for regrets, it always has been, especially in matters of the heart
Whether you do this for the feelings contained, or the urge in your dermis
Take your chance to make your hugest mistake or obtain your biggest reward.

Simple, Humilde y Sano

Cuando el mundo era pequeñito
Todo era simple, todo era bonito.
Cuando mirabas por la ventana, esperabas
A que tu padre del trabajo llegara.
Cuando agarrados de la mano
Íbamos cruzando al otro lado, de la calle,
Era como viajar al otro lado del mundo.
Entre los límites de la cuadra de nuestra calle,
Íbamos imaginando como sería ver el resto de la ciudad;
Como seria poder visitar otro lugar.
Cuando tener automóvil era para aquel que fuese abogado
Algún doctor, o algún licenciado.
Cuando ir a pies a lugares lejanos
Era la única opción y uno nunca se hallaba cansado,
Y el levantarse sábado temprano
Por no perderte aquel programa entonces televisado.

Cuando el mundo era pequeño
Todo era humilde, todo era bueno.
La noche olía a grama, el día olía miel.
Cuando jugábamos con tierra
Y jugábamos con muñecos hechos de papel.
Cuando jugábamos a imaginarnos
Que éramos, caballeros, príncipes y reyes.
Cuando no sabíamos mucho del mundo allá afuera
Ni ninguna sus leyes.
Pero solíamos respetar y seguir las reglas
Que nuestros padres nos inculcaban
Y no pensábamos en romper ninguna de ellas.
Cuando la disciplina era la medicina
Para nuestros berrinches y caprichos;
La vitamina que refuerza nuestros valores morales.
Cuando papá y mamá reflejaban ser ejemplos ejemplares.
Cuando el amor y el respeto eran socialmente aceptables.

Cuando el mundo era chiquito
Todo era sano, todo era bonito.
Nuestro cuarto era nuestro templo,.
Nuestro fuerte contra el mal ajeno
Cuando tener un amigo era algo ameno,
Y hablar por horas porque pensábamos
Que el reloj que cuenta el tiempo
Era interminable.
Cuando nuestros padres se hacían responsables
Por aquellas travesuras que nosotros
En nuestra inocencia no sabíamos contendrían consecuencias.
Cuando el rencor duraba segundos
Y muchas veces ni siquiera había alguno.
Cuando el mundo era bien chico
Para mí, ser pobre era ser rico.

air-rifle-scope

Zero in a Scope

Echo the silence of the million things you’ve said before
No matter the amounted you’ll end up on the floor
Amazing how masochistic matters of pride can become
When self-loathe chews you up down to the bone.

Appalled how life spits on your face, laughs at your tragedy
Worse than any propaganda or conspiracy theory
TV entertains your brain; you need a break from reality
While self-awareness bitches up for giving in to the fantasy.

Numbers keep adding up, it’s hard to keep up with the math
The script keeps adding lines; it’s hard to tell the truth
And all these elements that makes us unstable human beings
One thing takes long to end, while another simply begins.

An endless racing tests the myriad illusions of the mind
They “teach” you how to do it, at yet you fail
Constant on the search of a lifeform who’s truly benign
But this quest has got you chasing your own tail.

I’m Dead

I’m dead
It doesn’t matter how you try to fix it
I’m dead
Don’t dare to wonder how it came to this
I’m dead
I wasted my time, never had any chance
I’m dead
I tried so hard, but I miserably failed…
The end.