Poem

Here is a poem which to make it less scary I dashed off in just a few hours this morning. Like a good poem generally should, it deals with the idealistic case, assuming laws are reasonable, etc. I don't wish to state an opinion on how to deal with evil laws, such requiring a thorough acquaintance with law, risks, loopholes, etc.



I see

a girl
I haven’t seen before
very recently
afraid
I don’t know of what
I know something though
she wants to be worshipped.

Girls are forever getting angry at their fathers,
understanding their mothers more.

Sometimes a girl knows what she wants
and she doesn’t really want adults around.
No women please,
girls only.

Girls know
how to give a man fun
a smile
a loud laugh
it is seductive
not an unreasonable behavior
with so many desirable men
priggish.

"How say you,
I,
you,
we try that then this."
A fun and lightsome bliss.

There are even girls more cunning.
Sex can be funner
for a girl
when there is no woman
in it.
Ruins intraejaculate sperm selection.

Cunning girls cynical
they laugh,
they carry on,
to seduce
husbands away from wives
not for money
but for sex
more youthful,
and purer bliss.

Sometimes, though,
fears
are just pointless instances of misunderstanding,
nothing more,
a wife loves to be worshipped,
a husband worships her even more,
but you can’t really expect them to understand,
even the girl who made me discover this I don’t think understands,
doesn’t really believe as I was loving her I was whirr,
calculating and making theories scientific biological,
amazed and grateful at each discovery to the contribution to scientific knowledge
her lust gave me
sexually, at least, I loved her
in my mind,
because love IS COMPLICATED
and sensical.

Back to you,
I wonder,
whether your family
really understands
worship
isn’t really about
your dad thinking more
much more
of your mother
than of girls
not their daughters
but about
a state of mind
Worship
whose pleasantness
doesn’t really depend
on whom it is directed toward.
All your mother really needs
is spermatozoa in which genetic crossover has been discouraged
and which will tend when producing daughters
to encourage genetic crossover
in their female offsprings’ developing oocytes.
Your dad really ought to try
worshipping
girls he wants to fuck.
And not just because it works better
(though to be sure and it does).
I don’t really know
it’s all so strange
males fall into that error
(I fell into it myself
a certain extent,
much later made a girl scream louder once
perhaps
because of it,
sound still ringing in my ears,
a bell
I don’t really mind anymore hearing,
I could blame my present fears on that,
but I don’t think that would be accurate and yet, the noise is bouncing still)
men usually shouldn’t follow directions about everything.
And your mother needs
to fantasize more
about girls
sharing sex with her.
She and girls can’t both be right,
actually,
girls are more right,
because it is a lot easier for a man to worship a girl
like she’s a well-loved wife
and to be sad with her
than for a woman to become young.
Worship isn’t everything,
youthful bliss is something else, and
to a certain extent,
is transferable,
the effects
to a female
on sperm of another’s cervix
whence it came
and is real.

Real
like you
notwithstanding at the same time
I get dreamy, ethereal,
when I stare at your picture
and you’re so pretty it makes me uncertain
of the more your prettiness lets me know
(I’m glad you try to be pretty,
smart girl,
perhaps I’d have overlooked you else,
or from ignorance decided you weren’t worth the risk.)
and at this point there are two females
I probably have worshipped greater,
I worship you greatly,
and as to the idea of a relationship with you,
not unphysical preferably,
I suppose,
I’ve never worshipped the idea of a relationship more,
or had a greater sense of importance
of any sort of relationship I might have
to the greater good
or some higher religious purpose.
(I suppose I am speaking here in the unbiased sense, i.e., not taking into account such extraordinarily special relationships are rare; prudence dictates the limited knowledge I have of you increases the chances of my unbiased sense being excessive. How I feel upon further knowledge may be different. I say this because I don’t want you to (wrongly) think there’s compulsion or obsession about my feelings, which are so new and based on so little, I haven’t been very successful at determining what to make of them yet.)
I don’t know what that means, really,
surprising. Hmmm.
It’s a good thing I worship you.

I don’t know where this poem will bounce to,
mistaken identities,
don’t know about what it bounced from,
could care less about the privacy implications
of teenagers with expert cacheable flash redirect IP-address-recording spying-bot or whatever knowledge, probably even hope
they do spy on everything, let them do it, yeah,
I’ll stick to classical math over computer science,
I mean that absolutely calmly and benevolently,
to the point I may be silly
because I haven’t investigated at all
want to be guided into teenage girl traps
because they seem so safe
like your arms.