Motherfuckers seem to be popping up sending me poems. Well, I'm just a doll, so I'll go ahead and post it.
Thanks to Blaise St. Alsault for the poem. You do indeed buy what you is.
'Cause is you is /or is you ain't/my motherfucker? Love, Lester



Millennios:

               Suburban Supermarket before sunrise
A poem
(by Blaise St. Alsault)






                      in the Old Regime at the Millennium
                                      I am what I buy


       To be a believer at the millennium you must believe in the second coming
       The coming of the Messiah, Solomon said to me. The belief is this: when
       this Messiah comes, there will be a golden age of knowledge and death

                                      You buy what is you
                      the modern way was all that was for sale


       to find the source Solomon looks to me then the Book of Revelations,
       the last book in the New Testament. This book also talks of an Antichrist,
       and a force leading towards Armageddon, the final great battle.

                      we mature as we move from consumer demographic
                                      to consumer demographic,
                                      we know that something is going to happen.


       Although what might happen is that nothing actually happens, it is more likely
       that there will be some lasting effect. As he says this, Solomon holds up a
       supermarket tabloid declaring that the world is coming to an end.


                      each generation can be defined as a target market.


[ When we are young our images of our older selves bloom with vacant boundaries. To be among the average while floating slightly above, adrift, aloof. But then as days grow on clearly you see yourself landing in the middle of the middle class, working. You enjoy the average life and the slightly above average car. Living moderately in west glen falls experiencing the overwhelming urge to become something better, something of dreams, only to let it sit on the couch and keep you warm because you're apathetic and lacking in conviction to actually accomplish anything substantial; and accept this as who you are.

This is the cherished American dream, lost in the supermarket with a spoon.]