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Sunday, April 08, 2012

The Emperor's Old Clothes

Hey, look, an emperor of fate's define!
Say, his jacket's made of cloth so fine!

Cloth so fine as invisible fumes
Spun in complex, convoluted looms

Dressed in that finery and arms outstretched
In the middle of a square, an enormous spread

The subjects look at him as an object of amuse
With kaleidoscopic eyes, they see what they choose

So, while he's all naked as the day he was born
Some see a chimera and some see just porn