Emperor with No Clothes

If you care about yourself at all, come to your own aid while

there's still time.

Marcus Aurelius 3.14

Citizen of Rome, you are the center of the universe.

Problem is, circumference is—take a guess—me.

“Some things are impatient to be born

While others are impatient to die.” Don’t say

I did not warn you. Next time they swear

Shit happens, pop them square in the nose.

This will not help anybody, but helping is

The farthest thing from my imperial mind.

If you keep your spirit blameless and pure

People will drape you with laurels but

No one will have sex with you in backseats

Or marble mausoleums or anywhere else,

A small price to pay for honor and respect

Though not for me, being an emperor with no clothes.

Just pretend today is the last day of your life

And act accordingly—not that such strictures

Apply to Yours Truly, sports fans.

The forces of evil march on the fortress

Of your self. I wish I could explain why.

But what if evil did not exist and what if

Your self was no fortress, see what I mean?

Stoics get a bad name. Not in touch with feelings.

Too rigid. Know-it-all cocksure mothers.

So the Stoics retain PR firms, don’t tell a soul.

If you really knew what was good for you,

And you do, why do you care I’ll flail you alive?

True, pissing off your emperor is a poor plan,

Even one like me mounted bare-assed on a steed.

Once upon a time, children…The story peters out.

Circus revels and gladiatorial raves—

Seen one, seem them all. Life is tiresome,

When will it end and will we ever notice?

I wish I knew. Really, I wish I cared.

My pal, Marcus Aurelius, natters day and night:

“Living is more like wrestling than dancing.”

Guess he never saw me take Molly at the club.

And he says we always have the option of

Having no opinion. Right. Like he knows.

OK, then, where did I put my pants?