*an older poem [from around 2006-2007) about exploitation.

Eternal melodies
swell from spirit places,
future and far away places
where no blood turns
to stone.

Singing does not belong only
to those conceived on stage
with applause filled lungs,
neon lights dying
them green.

Bastard performances
given by star makers
unleash two-headed rabbits,
which hop over life,
diverting aim,

painting
with muted colors
that miss targets
and abort genius,
giving birth to gray men

and hollow women.