poem theory

dirty limerick

I heard a dirty limerick on a Parliament-Funkadelic recording.  Can I tell it to you?

There once was a man in Peru

who was dozing in his canoe.

He started thinking of Venus

and pulled out his penis:

woke up with a hand full of goo.

I’m not sure I have that quite right, but that’s ok–my version, at least.  I don’t think sex is dirty, necessarily.  I mean more like “dirty.”  This dirty limerick is beautiful to me.


The scene it sets in my mind is beautiful.  Maybe I would like to paint it.

I see this Peruvian guy, maybe decked out in bright holiday clothing.  He’s alone in his canoe, floating about, resting and curious.  Maybe the sun goes down.  Out on the middle of the lake, no mosquitoes know about him.  He lays back and looks at the stars, getting sleepy.  No one else is out on the lake.

He sees Venus in the sky, so bright and gorgeous, and gets horny.  His dick stirs in the fabric of this clothing, and he’s thinking of other Venuses.  Maybe a kind, fat woman with abundant comforting tits, such as myself.  A mammal to love, body and soul, delightful to ejaculate upon.  Yes, my breasts are available for such.

Why not take his dick out of his clothing for a bit of a wank?  What are erections for, if not moments like these.  His mind drifts as the canoe drifts, and he beats off, falls asleep, beats off, comes in a dream.

Yes, it’s about pleasure, the mind, sleepiness.  The joke part is waking up to a hand full of semen, I guess.  It’s ok.

I wish I was on that lake, doing the same, inspired by sky and daydreams turned to night dreams.  Masturbating in a boat sounds perfect.


It reminds me of a bear going into hibernation and waking up with twins.  It always delighted me, to think of bears giving birth like that.

Well, twins–that’s a fine how do you do.  Good morning to you, cuddly cubs.  I see you found the nipples.  Yes, breakfast is on me.

By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

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