with the stimulation of
his own verbosity
he masturbates
for all the world to see
his words
oozing unfulfilled potential
splattered on crumpled paper
or a screen
as it were
the pen
his phallic pride
his weapon of voice
wielded with all the ferocity
his empty soul can deliver
drained yet un-sated
his mind shrivels and withdraws
until blind ambition
rears once more
poetic wanking 
Copyright © Henri Ferguson 2003
All rights reserved.

Author notes

Writing poetry happens for many reasons. Some attempt to purge demons, express gut wrenching life issues and the ever popular angst, while others want to pontificate and share their views with the world. But this is my salute to those who wield their words like a rubber sword. Their words so completely esoteric and steeped in hollow mystique; navel gazing at its finest.
Written May 14th, 2003