[Newspoetry] assignment: exploiting virtual children

[Donald L Emerick]

Friends, Romans, Free-roaming Vermin, unite tonight!

Lend me your fears, for you have virtually nothing but
your fears, in the name of namelessness itself, to fear!

Our FearLess Leader has fallen, and I need not name him
well to you, as thus he is fallen, lower than all such men
now living, have ever gone before; fallen from our grace,
fallen into that disgrace to which many go, as none return
to tell you of those unknown fears who yet are unnamed,
naming which would dissolve the mask that hides fear
from its own reflection, facing unknowable fear, fiercely.

Ah, look at him who has fallen before you, in disgrace!
One Senatorial JurisConsult says he was Ambitious.
that may prove to be true, for he was Ambition's ally
when it came to seeing a better world than this world,
where misery and sorrow dominate and proliferate.
Another Senatorial JurisPrude says he was Virtually
Dictatorial, for he constantly undermined the old laws
by his merciful acts to alleviate present harsh Reality.
Yet another cried out against his UNconstitutionality,
bringing legions to overrule the lesions of politicality,
that safely speaks in chat-rooms of human sexuality
as though Virtuality were some safe-sex channel,
some open channel made safe for safe-sex security,
by idle talk of free speech as free sex's promiscuity,
a sex that virtually spawns, as its subsidized subset,
the thing and things that we name in Absolute Reality.

Ah, look at his wounds, as a thousand life-times he bled.
Each wound sticks out its disapproving tongue to prove
how much he loved you, for thus he has died for you,
again and again, until you grow weary of his blood,
poured out for you, of his transfigurational refutation
of Absolute Reality, of losing days of wine and roses,
bread, be loafing in your I-and-Thou juggernauticality.

Did I speak of his Free Will Offering, his Testament,
Which would make you his Heirs to his Fated Breath?
Know you not that Science demonstrates, statistically,
that every gulp of air we breathe contains molecules
that once sprang from the very Air itself He breathed.)
He had no child of his own, to pedophile paternally,
So he adopted each of you as his bastard children,
And bequeaths upon you all Virtual Rights to Rule.
Yourselves, known and named, that you rule any other.
He decrees holidays and festivals forever to be yours,
as distractions from greater Pains and daily Toils,
"Panem nostrum quotidianum donamum de nobis hodie,"
as he prays for you bread to break your fast daily.

Virtual pedophilia is a rite of priests in lieu-ed view,
for no law of any land may bar godless Virtuality,
for the Rights of a Greater exceed those of a Lesser.
We do thus admit no Humean ad propter hoc limits,
found as erroneous Freudian slips from primal Reality.
Reality follows Virtuality, as Day trails after Night.
(Any other, viewed, would be an Offal-by-One Error.)

So, what did the Editor assign me to say, that I say
I have said what he asked me to say by saying it, too?
Ah, yes, one plus one is two, or three or four or five,
depending on what the damned stopping problem is,
for one is virtually everything; it just takes some time,
to walk along infinite paths of Righteous Virtual Reality.

Thanks for listening,
Donald L Emerick
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