Tag Archives: Ry Hakari

Hocus-Pocus Lotus Locos 2: Petrarchan Sonnets PART 2 ~ The ‘Down The Rabbit Hole’ collaboration

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Petra inquired “Anyone home?”, and in getting his “All’s well in this well”
in reply, she asked “What you do?”, received a sly “Well, well manager”
and yelled “Well, well, well! How rude! Are you token rodent that purrs?”
“Drop dead, my friend” he mumbled under his breath, and said, “Hell,
I guess, princess. See all the sixpence?” She sputtered, “Demon spell
make you toke too much! How ass hat know Petra Princess? Know her?”
“All princesses are no more than a purse! If you lead a horse to water,
you can’t make ’em drink!” — “You the whore who needs help, infidel!”

“I’m the virgin bastard of Cheshire! I have heard of you! The Empusa
with the flaming ash-blonde locks!” he spoke, and she, flattered, said,
“You have sexy dirty Medusa hair too, so Petra not stone you! Umm…”
and petrified, Bastion heard “Sacred Loti, for the girly boy!” with dread
as she returned tumbling head o’er heels o’er the edge like a lush-klutz
hush-hush lust-drunk — Because fools rush in where angels fear to tread.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & RY HAKARI
© All rights reserved 2015

Hocus-Pocus Lotus Locos 2: Petrarchan Sonnets PART 1 ~ The ‘Down The Rabbit Hole’ collaboration

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Italian-adopted Princess of Florence,
Petra the Opera Prima Donna Slavic,
a feline-fearing alluring Ailurophobic
soon passed Cheshire’s abhorrence,
and with whims of a fetish sixth-sense
for hatted men, wished to fish and fix
the Tomcat from the well, blowing dick
of the puss in boots deep in sixpence.

When she tilted her face down the well at sunrise,
dawn’s disc lit her ash-blonde hair up, like a halo
and the feathered musketeer-hat man, surprised,
felt aggrandized by the Angel, whose cheeks glowed
at the fallen Seraph as well, who though circumcised,
obviously had personal demons he needed to let go.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & RY HAKARI
© All rights reserved 2015

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!

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & RY HAKARI
© All rights reserved 2015

GUEST POST // The Pen and Paper Life by Ry Hakari

There’s a memoir somewhere around here
That bears my name engraved in bold on the front cover
Just the same as words cut deep in a headstone
A novel written on broken dreams with fallen tears
And a slap in the face to the one who creates
I’m nauseated by my own philosophy
And I won’t claim the pages as my own anymore
All they’ve done is rip me off with their clever lies
But it’s my turn to do the ripping now
So I’m sitting on this dirty window sill
Tearing out all my chapters page by page
Watching the wind carry them away one by one
But it isn’t as simple as I make it sound
Like a spider bite on the inside
Every rip stings my heart a little bit
Ten years have just gone out the window
By sitting in it for just three months
It’s been ninety-nine days today
And now I’m in need of a massive re-write
Because all that’s left are two covers and a spine
But I won’t be the writer this time around
God the Creator is my author now
So the new edition is sure to sell

by RY HAKARI
© All rights reserved 2014