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Through the Jester's Eyes
His Highness clothed in regal robe hides not his swollen girth . His royal birth proves no worth nor provides him with manly grace. His corpulent face with eyes wide spaced and ruddy, sagging jowls bring laughing howls from the hungry bowels of those he would disgrace. His queen arrayed with bosom displayed looks on as revelers dance. With looks askance she takes a chance to give her lover a wink. Before he can blink her eyes quickly sink lest the king become aware of lust so bare that it drips from the air and smells its musky stink. His myopic gaze is drawn in a daze to her perfect, noble breast. Dull to his guests the king does his best to bestow a royal smile. Yet, all the while with practiced guile she lovingly fills his cup. The love-sick pup merely drinks it up knowing not it has been defiled. The king has dined on tainted wine; thoughts of love dance in his head. Drunkenly led to his royal bed he knows not that he sleeps alone. With satisfied moan he sinks like a stone into a dreamy, dark abyss to imagine a kiss from that queen of his to produce an heir for his throne. An heir, indeed is produced of need, no stock of the royal boor. Behind her door the queen plays whore with eagerly opened thighs. With skill she plies her practiced cries beneath her lusty traitor, who dares to bait her and strives to sate her producing contented sighs. Smugly enthroned he sits not alone with swelling queen beside. Bursting with pride he winks at his bride round for the world to see. Two months or three an heir there will be; a prince born to my king. He has everything; he wears royal ring, but the Queen will wink for me.
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