Posts Tagged ‘Penis’

Perched on an emotional ledge as I have been for the past while, I find myself using my fingers to hang on to the cliff face with the hope the persistent ache resulting reminds me to keep the grip and not slide … plummet? … leap? … cavort? … into the abyss, or whateverthefuck it is, below.

The crag I cling to is QWERTY-shaped, and like velcro needs multiple connections doing a little dance to keep the stickiness happening.

Some shards pulled away by the friction between the rock and the hard place the other day got a comment that’s kept me busy lately while I hang around:

Have you ever considered writing poetry about anger? I read these yesterday, couldn’t sleep last night, don’t know why poetry about anger kept swirling around my thoughts.

So, thanks to Amy, it’s anger raising its fiery, swollen head and keeping me clenching …

Pissed off. What’s a Girl to Do?

To spew my anger ‘cross a page
would mean acknowledging my rage
It seems I was raised way too girly-ous
to allow such blatant show of furious

An emphasis on contemplation …
consider each and every view …
and be no reason for vexation:
The mandate for a girl’s milieu

Not that some don’t infuriate
when what they should do is placate,
but I have faced consequences dire
when releasing my indignant ire

It’s not that I don’t have a temper
I do, but somethings can be learned:
There’s no need to just sit and whimper’
but formulate through each slow burn …

It’s helpful oft’ times to rattle a cage
and channel off more than a bit of outrage
through get-backs oh-so-very terse
in fits of pique disguised as verse.

Unfortunately, the season doesn’t help much …

The First Noel

The first Noel I hear
as we come toward the end of the year
will convey no festive tingling
but could earn a testes jingling
and a very hearty round of “Fuck you, Dear”.

And … of course, the usual angst that confounds and confuses …

Man: Optional?

I’m perpetually disappointed by
the sex that feels anointed by
the fact they sport a penis,
or it they

Although seemingly unfettered
and somehow strangely flattered
by a mass secreting phlegm
along the way,

they find their bits impressive
even when the thing is restive
and can’t ever keep their hands
too far away

There’s no doubt that cock’s amusing
and I’m very fond of using
the appendage on ’bout any
given day,

but if suddenly to find it
hanging ’round there, I would bind it,
not assuming special powers
in its sway

Since I wasn’t born with boy bling,
that male Lincoln Log-like toy thing,
it’s not possible to ‘get’ that
need to play

with it inside things or outdoors,
(little pickiness between whores)
just ’bout any hole will do it
So they pray:

Fall down to your knees in full praise …
or upon your back with legs raised …
just give some place for to aim and
shout “Hooray”

for the penis now he rises …
no, no need to think in sizes …
just appreciate the sight of
that beauTAY!

If the thing could only speak it
would hardly need the geek it
uses to transport it ’round
each day

Truly, women are from Venus
and we’ll never have a penis
other than the ones we borrow.
That’s okay

There’re no shortages of offers
from those pleased to fill our coffers
and occasionally the man attached
will stay

round long enough to carry
a few burdens, even marry,
giving more than just their penis
and a lay

But …

I’m perpetually disappointed by
the sex that feels anointed by
the fact they sport a penis …
or it they

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I’ve had about enough of the blah blah on the UN’s Racist on Parade Fiasco. Even though taking that group to task is a favored topic, I do have others.

Penises, for example.

It wasn’t all that long ago that the favorite appendage of males came up here … on the blog, I mean … and, golly gee! here it comes again.

Today’s ejaculatory comment … that would be the “golly gee!” … is inspired by this tasty little tidbit from the BBC titled: Condoms ‘too big’ for Indian men.

Not big as in so-popular-they-just-can’t-get-enough, but rather big as in are-you-happy-to-see-me-or-is-that-a-derringer-in-your-pocket.

A survey of more than 1,000 men in India has concluded that condoms made according to international sizes are too large for a majority of Indian men.

The study found that more than half of the men measured had penises that were shorter than international standards for condoms.

Hmmmm. Where to begin …

Okay … here’s a thought … I wonder how many of those 1,000 men are admitting to being part of the survey, and can’t help but go down the road of imagining how it was conducted.

Were these guys simply asked, “Hey, Dude, how long is your schlong?”, or was there actual measuring involved … and if so, under what conditions? (I’m guessing there’d be no problem lining up volunteers if it was made clear that the only accurate readings involved some fluffing.)

Now that that’s out of my system, spending a few lines on the very real problems ill-fitting condoms cause sounds like the right thing to do since India has the highest number of new HIV infections in the world at the moment and an incredibly high birth rate. WIth a good part of the reasons being that one in five of the things used in that country either tear or fall off, giving men the latte grande mug instead of the espresso thimble isn’t doing anyone any favors.

There are options, but …

“Smaller condoms are on sale in India. But there is a lack of awareness that different sizes are available. There is anxiety talking about the issue. And normally one feels shy to go to a chemist’s shop and ask for a smaller size condom.”

And that’s about the size of it in a nutshell. Not only does there need to be concern about protection from STDs and unwanted pregnancies, there’s that ever-so-delicate ego that needs covering, too, and it seems that might be the bigger motivation when hitting the johnny shop.

Guys! Guys! I’ve done a study myself and am here to tell you that it really ain’t the meat, but the motion … well, the motion including all the extras. (An, no, I will not be releasing info on those who stepped up to take part in my survey, although I will reveal that they were pretty close to unanimous on the “what it really takes to rock my boat and keep it floating” answers.)

That, guys, is the meat of the matter, not the version given by a dude who used to be an editor for an Indian men’s mag who said …

“It’s not size, it’s what you do with it that matters,” he said. “From our population, the evidence is Indians are doing pretty well.

If “what you do with it” is simply passing along a packet of genetic material, that’s one thing … hey! you can phone that in … but it seems to be missing the point completely, since knocking someone up and curling a girl’s toes are far too often two different things.

And if it’s not the toe-curling bit that men fret about, why the big deal about a little deal?

I know some people are making a fortune off the “add a foot to your dick” ads that spam the world, but for most of us girls, that just doesn’t conjure any image we find stimulating.

It must be a guy thing …

Anyone else wonder how much peeking goes really on in the gents?

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