SHANNON L. PUGH
Victor Vinni: The Life of an Objectivist

Born bald and blue,
In the mist of a summer's morning,
When the sun had just began to change the sky from midnight black to navy.
The installment of freedom was not a gift,
A royal right for common men.

There was no control over the birth,
Only chemical compulsion- The chaos we call love.
The adrenal rush of sugar and pheromones,
Shared from one body to the other.
 
There are voices that speak only for sound's sake,
Saying nothing as if it were the meaning of all life,
Confined to one mouth without a body.
There is not and there is.
No room to sublimate or transcend from the physical to the ought,
There is no time for moral confusion,
In a wreckage of human history.

I am an individual, Victor Vinni -
And life is mine,
An object I observe and take part in.
My emotions are mine, not reality's,
Happiness is a possession of property -  No trespassing
Keep your religion, government, and guns in your domain
Or I will conquer you -
For I know the individual in me isn't the individual in you,
And if you are unable to accept that,
You have committed a logical abomination that will rob you,
In the darkness of your unknowing assumptions.