“Idol Worship” by C. Jean Pearlstein

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
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

C. Jean Pearlstein

L. K. Thayer’s Foto Fetish

© 2011

“American Idol” by Vicki Batkin

Photo by Alexis Rhone Fancher

My rock goddess will never die
I see her flying into dense fog
Just to make the show.

She’s footloose and fancy-free
With a hint of Tabasco
And she will take no prisoners.

She prances around with greatness
While her followers trail behind
Blinded by her scent

She is my secret pal
And my one true song.

Yes, my one true song.
Shhh…I wrote the lyrics.

Vicki Batkin

All Rights Reserved

© 2009