Mental Masturbation

Here's the title poem from my (hopefully soon-to-be published) book "Mental Masturbation: Poetry that has no point. It just feels good." Yeah...I don't give a crap about psychological nudity.

Mental Masturbation

If I try to concentrate on serious drudgery,
My mind goes off on a solo spree.
Thoughts come that bring joy to only me.
My mind masturbates in poetry.

I try to focus on hardcore work,
But my mind begins to jerk
Away to where creativity flows free,
My mind masturbates in poetry.

If I try to converge on important matters,
My mind beats off like the wings of moth.
Wild horses need out of the barn.
Breasts shouldn’t be captive to a corset.
It’s too hard to read dry material,
That doesn’t keep my gray matter wet.
It shoots off every chance it gets.

When worries are crushing my mental libido,
The spirit reminds me which way to go.
I can play alone, and nobody will know!
Poems get me off,
And help me stay where life is soft.
Imagery tends to relax.
Rhythm and Rhyme’s union produces the climax.

Words spluge forth and cover the page.
The ink defiles the virgin white.
There’s no course plotted out for this flight,
And there’s no destination.
There’s no point. It just feels good,
This…mental masturbation.