I saw them
Before the three phony stars
Whose shit stinks like everyone elses
A chance to come to Hollywood
Be melted into malleable puddle
Hollywood, just south of my home, north Hollywood
Home to human trafficking, pedophilia
Porn, S&M shops, whoring, wifebeating
And every illicit drug on the planet
Homeless youth broken, wander the streets
Boys and girls sell their ass and give
Blow jobs for a pittance
Powerful men and stage struck mothers
Complicit in offering up fresh cunts
Ensure the ready supply with promise
Of stardom
Kardashian Brittany Paris notoriety
Not talent, hard work, years of training
Discovery
To be used , fucked, fucked up, fucked over
Die on the street skid row
Run down room.
Predators feed the media blitz
500 channels 24/7
A fresh supply of meat
Arrives daily on Greyhound
Hitched trucks
Airplanes accompanied by
Celebrity obsessed parents
I say, for what?
I say, why not?
Lead the calves to the holding pen
Fatten them with unreachable fantasies
Herd them with penis prods
Down the chutes
To be slaughtered
And fashioned
Into the Golden Calf
© 2011
The Juice Bar 
Jean, I love the knock-out punch, no holds barred honesty of this poem.
Gutsy, gritty, ugly reality…excellent work my friend!
Powerful, shocking, sadly true. Terrific work, Jean.
To our banjo playing poet, another winning rant from your fingertips!
xoxo
Roz
You will save someone with these words.
And I love your dynamic closing line.
I’m a fan!!!!
I appreciate your comments–glad it resonated.
Woah… nothing like nailing it! You will save someone, indeed.