Hocus-Pocus Lotus Locos ~ The one inappropriately funny collaboration

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Within the English Province of Cheshire,
Sacred Lotus flourishes along the mire.
Beneath the Cattails, up Lotus’ holed lace
a little boy once tilted his curious face….

Sometimes the Sacred Loti makes scared boys
unable to count to ten, wind-blown, maladroit.

For Bastion though, close only counted in horseshoes
(and hand grenades, which made him afraid), whose
fear of holes and need for control, was never dulled
no matter how many blanks he filled… not until grown.

Sometimes Noblemen are bequeathed ignoble fortunes,
if the Bastard’s slung arrows of outrageous abhorrence…

Such was the illicit got lot, of the Noble Bastard Bastion of Cheshire
in scorning horned redhead Romani’s fiery desires, who after awhile
with amourette brunettes, dark-haired donnas who Amaretto-binged
(after they spilt their guts, just for him to jilt their milk when he split),
hell-raised a harem’s unquenchable revenge against him ’til the poor
Cheshire sour-puss’s head curiously dropped down dead… premature.

Pissed off bombshells led by a hush-hush Slavic blonde mistress
fueled by rage and Vodka to the cooch-tease with the coin fetish,
with a candlestick, snatched his Lota lamp bank; Rubbing limp dick
to the nymphets who wished to get laid, Bastion could only get lit
putting coins in puss-purses, infuriating the reverse gang-rapists
smashing the flaccid shell of the nervous turtle lacking firmness!

Left shortly with a healing chode, he slowly hit the road, not heeling
those daughters of Achilles, who couldn’t snatch the snapper weenie.
No longer playing pipe, Full Monty python no longer dancing pantless,
in quicksand sinking, bit the harem heels crushing his head, heedless.

Sometimes escaping out the frying pan, just means landing in fire.
Sprung free, he quickly jumped down a well he wished to fill higher!

Within and throughout the English Province of Cheshire,
Sacred Lotus flourishes along the mired, long admired
Sixpence desires, which more than once made a dent
with heads and tails in the Tomcat’s smile, at last rent.

Sometimes the wide abyss of heaven’s holey gate opens,
to rain misfortune thick upon Bastards with slot tokens

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