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My parents the moaning monists by Carling Ernstzen
(Musings and hyperbole on the results of being raised by egalitarian hypocrites)
*Disclaimer- no hatchets were used, only belts, fists and verbal tirades
"I'm not sad , I'm disillusioned"
There's a vast contradistinction to your diagnosis
But I'm guessing that's not in your well thumbed DSM iv
So what do you think ?
Mr shrink
Mr Ambiguious-open ended
Mr You start the conversation
But I'll be the one to end it
In exactly an hour
To instilll i have the power
Over deciding your miserable fate
Am I a basket-case, closet-case?
State your case - and what's your base?
Was it the beatings, or in my genes
something in between
Nature , nurture
Or simply inertia
That got me here,
Explains why I'm so queer
Where the fuck is here anyway?
This purgatory you call "help"
Needs to minus a p and add another L
That's what this vague "here" should really spell
You advise to bury the hatchet
And forgive those ignorant fachists
Even if the blade is still stained with my blood
from the last time they used it
"To teach a lesson"is how they misconstrue it
All because I promptly explained,
After they inanely complained
About my petulant acts
That they were in fact hacks,
Posing as parents
Stating that fact
got me turned a pretty shade of black
resulting in my current blues
Depressive hues
Now This sanitarium
of the classified insane
Could really be to blame
Maybe it's not society that needs to be protected
from us, the rejected
Wards of the state
Ever stop and contemplate
Your qualitative analysis of me
is worth as much as the paper of your bachelors degree
And This is my official decree
I'd believe a delusional harlequin
over a benevolent charlatan
Give me schizophrenics over
self righteous academics
It's a pandemic
these university drones
They use the same big words to form verbatim phrases
Give me simple words uniquely stated.
Instead of diagnosis :manic depressive with severe obsessive compulsive behaviour and narcissistic tendencies, I'd take " said " insane patient proclaiming :'I dreamt I was emperor Nero erotically lifting my fire retardant robe to recieve a blow job from a concubine on 3rd avenue, You know just off Pompeii boulevard.'
These schmucks can't turn a phrase
the way a psychotic can amaze
with quirky stories and malaise.
They shouldn't be called psychologists
they should be named generalists,
Reductionists, unimaginativisists
,please-my-parents-by-doing-this-degreeists,
specialist-box-ticketists.
Just because u tick the box
I like females
my favourite colour is blue
and Im a vegetation
doesn't equate to you being a heterosexual lover of only blue vegetables.
"That's an absurd deduction "says the schizophrenic, "there's no such thing as blue vegetables".
"Ah that's a perfect deduction because I'm sure that I read about it in the DSM v." Says psychologist.
Oh the hilarity which ensues when they come face to face with the dreaded :
dualities, the all powerful ambiguity of reality.
All the Drs furiously flipping through their text books- you can see them now scanning the index for " heterosexual -blue vegatable obsessives".
Ah there it is !!!! I was right ! there was a case in 1857 where this man dyed his carrots blue in an attempt to see if his stools changed colour. You can almost hear the collective sigh of relief breathed by all Drs as they rock back and forth cradling their DSM 4's.
It's quite bleak that these meak, unipolar depletes will inherit the earth and its mirth.
"Then again giant lizards with chicken feet for hands once ruled this poor endangered planet.
So it all makes sense, the present tense", said the delusional psychotic sitting next to me at our full table eating bright blue vegetables.
And this is why I think my parents are egalitarian faschists.