Young Amanda sits in a pink paisley painted palace
A princess of suburbia crying tears of innocence, staining the thirty second spot
Claiming a thirty second spot in a mind designed to fit in,
The rhythm of confused, commiserate, consume, commune, submission

American idolator

Those golden calves subtly revealed, yet just enough, that in one flash, they become the front for the cosmopolitain bible called people.
Measure up to the manufactured cool.
The oasis that faces us is the embrace lost to the dull flashing blue hue.
Beta waves remove the days truth and tazes youth.
The prattle creates cattle and slaughters them for thier use.
Yet a lexus without leather is a bird with no feathers.
Excess only perpetuates.
So degenerate, degradate, desecrate and dissimilate.
Pervert the search for self into addictive material cereal.
Make it into habitual ritual indivisable from the visceral.
Better I like me in Mikey's Nikes.
Take the ho stroll in sequined logos.
Bow to Mylie's violence.









but who created who?