The Gifted Child

Here is a poem, rahter depressing, about the choices of morality in our world, within a parallel world, with magic. Virgil grew rather found of it whilist writing, and though much darker than others, is anxious to present it to you.

It was an accident, really:
that is all I may say,
no words to contribute,
no quotation to pay.
The Deathly Gates before me now,
wreathed in flame, untamed,
admit me to Death itself,
where forevermore, and nevermore,
I shall reside.

The sun had set beneath the village that night,
the hooting of the owl,
the screeching of its prey mouse;
these sounds greeted me as I left the hut of my house.
The stars seemed to shed a tear even for me,
walking unbeknownst into eternal misery.

Corpses would litter the ground tonight,
all dead by my right, by my deed.
It was not intentional sadicy,
but felt so good to me --
to my empty heart and me.

I was raised without parents,
in the hovels of the poor.
I was fed gruel and glop and others galore.
My clothing was none, my eyesight crossed,
my mind so slow, as if it would rot.
But I had not Love, upon recollection,
which lead me now, to my ultimate destruction.

That was the emptiness to be found in the cavities of my heart,
that was that vacuum of nothingness, that black hole,
which allowed me to possess -- yes: the magic.
Perhaps it would replace my lack of all else,
for I was quite adept, you should know.
Adept enough, even, to pass beyond that realm of sorrow,
into pure evil. But it was an accident, and he made me do it.

He was called Satan, and seemed so kind.
He showed me images of what I might become, and it was appealing.
I saw endless riches, and houseservants,
and the prime foods of the world, all mine.
All mine, with none to slap me, to bleed me,
to make the empty space hurt.
But the empty space was no longer.

I suppose that was why Satan befriended me:
he said I was special, he told me I had a gift.
Such kind words had never met my ears.
And I was pleased.
He reminded me of the images
of great grandeur,
and told me instructions, which I should follow.

They seemed rather nasty, really,
the deeds ahead, but all to the riches,
all to the glory. I would do it.
I heard Satan's cackle, a sound that had become solace to me,
after my years of misery. I smiled myself,
and I hugged him.

I swear I was not in my right mind,
out of it, even. But someone had to use the magic.
Satan told me about a nasty man named Jesus,
and how he had whipped himself up a following --
and many of the village's people were amongst them.
Satan wanted them dead. For they were cold,
and could not comprehend eternity, what the world's ways were.

And so I departed from my little hut,
and stroked my little face,
a face that had never seen love before.
With crossed eyes I seated myself in the cave,
and prepared the magic.

Now I chanted, and I stood.
My eyes glowed red, they burned.
My hands were illuminated.
Continuing my rant I left the cave,
back up the path to the village.
I released the spell, and they all fell dead.

And I smiled as I joined them.

As I looked upon Jesus, standing in the clouds,
I felt, for the first time, true warmth, true love,
and it surged through me.
I knew I had misplaced my friendship.
For Jesus frowned at me, and shook his head.

As the Heavenly Realm dissentegrated before my eyes,
I now knew how to properly fill that empty space.
There was the love of God, and the endless companionship of Jesus.
The true master of the universe, was about me all the while.
But I never listened.
And now I've Hell to pay.

The Deathly Gates before me now,
wreathed in flame, untamed,
admit me to Death itself,
where forevermore, and nevermore,
I shall reside.

A Sickening Rollercoaster

Here is a second video, this one featuring a rollercoaster made in a game called 'Rollercoaster Tycoon 3.' The video was well-named.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=t8O-3GioTkw

'Many Meetings' on Viola

Here Virgil introduces himself by playing his viola. The song is 'Many Meetings', from The Lord of the Rings score. It's not the best, but an honorable attempt. It's also slightly awkward as his arms aren't seen. Please enjoy nonetheless. The video can be seen by clicking on the link below.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SLvvEaX9J7I

Mountain Dew to Mount Doom

Here is a picture edited by Virgil, in homage to Lord of the Rings.

Also posted is the original photograph.

Government Systems Depicted in Watership Down and the Author’s Opinion of Them

This is exclusively for those who have read Watership Down, by Richard Adams.

Of each government system depicted in Watership Down, Richard Adams favors democracy, as can be drawn from his text. Socialism and totalitarianism are also shown in the novel, each having their ultimate failures, as will be seen.
Socialism, in all, means that all are equal: all share the same property, the same food, work together in hopes of a greater good. But the advancement of actual life in a socialist government, as seen in the Warren of the Snares in Watership Down, that of the buck Cowslip, is actually very limited. Yes, each of the rabbits in the warren were happy with their lives, gorging themselves on lettuces and carrots each day, sharing stories, playing rabbit games, and the like. But their lives were not natural, something that in Adams’ opinion is necessitous to successful government development; they allowed a man to hunt elil for them, instead of fleeing or hiding; their food was grown and harvested for them, instead of being found by themselves; and all the while each knew of the impending danger – the man only wanted plump rabbits to himself consume, or perhaps stuff for hangings, or ever to take its fur; they had deviated from the natural order, and thus their government system was a failure. They lacked a leader, who would have displayed a bit of common sense; for each acting as a whole were content with their pampered life, but an elected leader, thinking for the betterment of the whole, would have to progress away from that which hindered progression – the snare; he would have kept the natural order. Thus, in Adams’ opinion, the archetypical socialist government is a joyous one, and a fair one, but not in the natural order of things, and thus, ultimately, a failure.
Efrafa is by far the most powerful of the warrens in the story. It’s got Long Patrols, organized divisions of rabbits who silflay at set times, an Owsla, of course, a council of rabbits who decide the best for each of the other rabbits in the warren, and even an Owslafa – a Council Police. All of this is headed by a rabbit called General Woundwort. While innocent to the glazed eye, this is a totalitarian government, smothered in its own power with minds perverted by it. Adams clearly does not like this system, as he displays it with the greatest amount of resentment. The rabbits who aren’t in the Owsla or council are miserable, overcrowded, starved, hidden; as if they do not exist, as if their lives are utterly nothing to all the world. The primal difficulty in this environment is the overlord himself, General Woundwort, who first lusted for power, and continued to lust for more after he had gained it. His original vision had been a warren secure from all elil, which again suggests deviation from the natural order that he has so broken, for no warren can seek absolute sanctity from natural predators. After this has been secured, however, he desires further power, more and more of it, until he becomes thoroughly engrossed with it. He feels safer in battle than fleeing, as was stated in the novel. Certainly this is not how any rabbit was meant to act? His perversion of power, and awe-inspiring vision to some, the higher in the warren, whilst being just that, bartered for this an unhappy life for the others in the warren. So while this warren had a leader, that leader was corrupt in his power, thus spoiling the rest of the warren. Adams does not like totalitarianism, from this, and is all the wiser because of it. This warren, only after adapting to become something of a democracy after the departure of Woundwort, succeeded.
The democracy of Watership Down was a success, clearly. All were happy, healthy. The warren was pleasing to the rabbits within it. It was natural. There was a single leader, chosen, more or less, from the rest – and that was Hazel. He was the archetypical “leader” character: never hasty, always one to risk his own life for the greater good, who acted for the better, was courageous, who trusted in other rabbits and animals, bringing further benefit to the warren, was himself something of a generalist, but with a sharp mind – a great tactician, who knew how to use each of his fellows to an advantage, including other animals beyond rabbits, took advice from anyone who would offer it, charging its sensibility, and more. And thus the warren prospered – because all were happy under a great leader. Now, Sandleford Warren was too a democracy, but had one principal flaw. The Threarah would not take advice from each of his rabbits, would not consider it wholly, as Fiver had predicted to him the downfall of the warren, only to be rejected. He was foolish. So, even in a democracy, favored by Adams, when the leader makes a mistake, the whole suffers; but a leader is undoubtedly a necessity. The warren was later destroyed by men.
So, conclusively, it is safe to say that when treating each distinctively in government, traits of socialism, and when balancing the power of a tyrannical government, a democracy, under strong leadership, in Richard Adams’ opinion, will surely succeed.

This is a school essay, so if you've any suggestions or find any mistakes, please e-mail Virgil (to be found on his profile page.) Many thanks.

Virgil Hasn't Died

'Tis true -- Virgil is not dead. He's grown busy with summer school, studying for exams, things of that nature. But, he promises a full post soon.

Best of wishes.

Penny and Flay

There was once a young lad named Penny,
who rather preferred not his name,
so he went to have it changed one day --
at a mystical man named Flay.

Now Flay was an odd one,
that much is certain,
red hair about his puffed about his larger head:
he was Jewish, as were his curtains.

When Penny approached the delipidated home,
the sky had broekn into storm,
the roar of thunder bellowed overhead,
followed by a streak of lightening far from the norm.

He knocked thrice with the screaming head knocker,
as the plaque requested of him,
stood back,
as the door opened to accept him in.

Flay was waiting in his waiting room,
dressed in fine linen gowns,
a scarf pulled close about his very thin neck,
and shoeless, with both of his socks pulled down.

He smiled that wicked smile,
and opened his arms,
and with a voice more sour than honeysuckle weed,
said -- 'Hullo, what are you doing here!?' quite alarmed.

Penny responded that he wished his name be changed,
to something rather more masculine,
to which Flay responded (now quite calmed down),
'Why not feel my linen?'

Penny wonder what was averting Flay,
from changing his name -- this was the day!
No longer would he be called Penny,
lost in insult.

But Flay would not alter the name,
albeit how hard Penny may have made his attempts,
unless of course, he was given his pay.

And pay he was given, in generous amounts,
much the to pleasure of the mystic,
and he sat down at his battered round wooden table,
and began applying lipstick.

'What is this?' Penny asked,
naturally taken aback,
by the awkward act of feministm eminating from this man.
'Why do you apply lipstick, at the changing of my name?'

'Only to tell a story, my dear,'
was the quick repose of Flay,
'for a story I shall tell, and a message
you should endear.'

'My name was also Penny once, as it happens to be,
but since it was altered to Flay, now, my life
has not been kindly to me.

'Odd habbits have developed,
as this application,
and I only wish for you,
to carefully consider the situation.'

Consideration Penny took,
and carefully, as well,
and decided, for the sake of decision,
that some things are better left alone.