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Image by alainkun via Flickr

Have you ever wondered if there are women somewhere on this planet of ours who respect that extra male appendage men have? There’s more that one woman who’s said they didn’t need a penis but I’m here to tell you that there are those who more than just give the penis it’s due respect, in fact they actually worship it.

I’m referring to those involved in the Kanamara Matsuri festival, otherwise known as the Festival of the Steel Phallus! This is an annual Shinto fertility festival held in Kawasaki Japan during the spring of each year. Oh, and girls, if you thought your guys were well hung, man you haven’t seen anything until you see what these women worship, and if you are ever down there don’t forget to buy your very own penis shaped lol lipop!

Gee, talk about getting mixed messages, no wonder us guys are so bloody confused about what to say and do in front of a woman. Just to commemorate this special festival I decided to write a little poem called;

‘The Snake In My Pants.’

The snake in my pants has a mind of his own
On many an occasion this has been shown
He may hang to the left or maybe to the right
Beware if he pops out you may get a fright

It bothers me that I have no control
It always tries to achieve it’s own goal
No matter what I try and do or think
That damn snake will refuse to shrink

Even when it was time to take a leak
One had to take care or they would shriek
No more than two shakes was the saying
More than two and you would be playing

I am forced to sit and grin and smirk
Or if I must stand, out comes the shirt
I must try to hide the bulge that shows
Or my face turns red and really glows

I know what makes it act like this
It’s hoping that I may sneak a kiss
Pick up a hot girl to take to bed
So he can bury the exposed head

Ah but his master has high morals
Way too much for this snakes laurels
Many an occasion he thought me a freak
So many that all he could do was weep

Then came a time when I would marry
No more in the pants did he have to tarry
As the years went on things would change
She would think my sexual urges so strange

So in the end he still hangs there
Balls for friends, poking through hair
Sometimes to the left, or to the right
Never quite happy with his plight

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