I’m the doctor of honesty
Though I have no diploma.
You’re a dumb bitch.
Most people are stupid and irredeemable.
I prescribe for you failure, though you think yourself deserving
Because you’re just too lazy
You don’t work as hard as I do
I think, on an objective level
Most every woman I’ve met
With rare exception
Has been less in touch with reality
Than even the dumbest men
Your literature looks a little sore.
I recommend that you get it looked at.
Get a lot of people looking at it.
All right, but if you don’t listen to my advice,
It’s only going to get worse.
Don’t pick at the truth. It won’t grow back.
For men a pair of breasts are worth more than love.
For women love is worth more than rationality.
And rationality is impossible to find
In women or men
But more common in men
Sorry. I know it’s hard medicine.
But I’m a doctor of honesty.
No sugar for you.
I prescribe for women some good fucking
I prescribe for guys more books
We need to operate on society and remove
Anything with an –ism on the end of it.
It’s cancerous
And it kills the head
Republicans are malignant.
Democrats are benign
And other parties are prosthetic limbs
That won’t even carry your weight
Music, music will cure all ills.
Writing will inform any cause
Art isn’t really worth a shit, but it can be funny
And laughter is the best medicine
Except for the rich
Who don’t deserve art
You need to watch your newspapers
They’re going to flare up and get out of control
Unless you keep the heads of the reporters
From swelling with
Truth instead of feeling
I am bad for your conformity.
I suggest you get another doctor.
That would be smart
And good for your health
It’ll hurt my business
But what kind of doctor of honesty
Would I be
If I lied?
You will die
It will hurt a lot, and be scary
And you will hate it, a lot
And then you will hate nothing
So I highly recommend that you
Enjoy life
The best prescriptions for enjoying life are
Taking risks
Being a pissant
Trying a few drugs
(but you only get a few refills, you have to stop before dead)
excess.
I would recommend against the things
That the morons recommend
Because they are not doctors
And their diplomas are earned
In classrooms, not hardships
No more church
No more marriage
No more children until you’re ready to die
No more work
No more work
No more work
Do only the things that you like
And
Limit your sodium intake.
The world is full of phonies. Trust no one
Even me
Especially me. I lie.
I lie for a living.
Of course, that might be a lie
So listen up.
Non sequitors make great poems
And rhyming does not
I don’t give a shit what
Anyone tells you.
Look at Issa
Look at the bar songs of the Greek.
Look at Charles Bukowski.
Then try and quote me even Frost.
You can’t. I prescribe nothing for this
In this, if you feel you have a problem
You are a fucking hypochondriac of the mind
Names are not the word
The word is the word
And even Neal Bailey
Knows nothing
Of the immortal
And Robert Frost
Knows nothing
Of the immortal.
He was a doctor of the word
I am a doctor of honesty
Perhaps
Never trust a woman you haven’t seen naked.
Never trust a man who has not seen you naked
Ladies
If you start losing your memory
Be grateful. Seek no treatment.
If you can find a coma, do it.
Pull your plug.
Don’t be a coward like me.
Don’t hold onto every inch of life.
It’s in vain, it’s retarded, and it’s not what a good person should do.
When someone challenges your opinion
Say
“DO YOU KNOW WHO THE FUCK I AM?”
Then walk away.
You will win
You will confuse the shit out of them
And laughter is still the best medicine
The system and Reader’s Digest at least got THAT right.
Send my five dollars, because my services are free
For this I am owed a gratuity
If you do not, you will break out in anal warts
I warn you
Jesus will not heal you. Promise. Nor will God.
In fact, you will never heal.
Life is a small wound that opens, and gets bigger
And bleeds more and more until you die
Alone
Unhappy
Without friends
And with people after your assets
Your poetry
Your stereo.
Stay the fuck away from my stereo.
And my signed Bukowskis, if I can ever afford them
I recommend you bend over and kiss my ass.
Yes. You’re fat. You’re American. Seriously.
What kind of stupid question is that
You fat fuck?
No, the blacks aren’t just lazy.
But the hurdles aren’t as big as they make it out to be
Yeah, there is a patriarchy.
But there’s an even bigger matriarchy
And when you’re poor
The matriarchy is in control
And yeah, I’m poor
So the matriarchy is what I’ll bitch about
When I’m rich
The patriarchy will be what I deal with
If I can stay worthy of art
Which I won’t
Because the rich do not deserve art, yes
But the rich also lose the ability to
Understand art
Because to be artistic, to write a poem, to solve music
You must be poor.
You must.
Like radioactivity to leukemia
Being poor makes you sick
But the sickness makes you
Well
The radioactive dust is your craft
When you are rich
You are not sick
And if you are not sick
How can you create art?
How can you see
The doctor of honesty
No
You just sit there
And indulge in your
Kids
Your
Church
Your
Jesus
Your
Work
And you
Puff on that cock and say to the world
Do you know who the fuck I am?