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MOST PEOPLE
Most people can have sex in the dark
No foreplay other than a kiss and a grab
Most people can get married because
Of two to three basic things they have in common
With most people
Most people can have a huge interest in something
Without wanting to do it
Most people wanna say something
But they don't
Most people wanna do something
But they don't
Most people go to bed early
Most people consider music to be a saleable commodity
And a fashion of the times
Nothing more, nothing less
I don't wanna be like most people
Of course, if most people have their way
We all will.
- Kyle Segars
(featured in the poetry forum 05.29.11)
YUPPIEKILLER
You're so fuckin' educated
Your girlfriends are like an Aileen Wuornos Joy Luck Club
You like to imagine that you were punk once
Sometimes, you like to imagine that you still are
You're helping industrial scumbags turn this town into tourist traps
That and a bunch of giant hipster fuckin' condos for you
You bitch and whine about unrest and big political stuff
But you don't want unwashed peasants in your fuckin' bars
Or in your trendy fuckin' coffee shops
You're such a misfit 'cause you voted left
You conduct your friendships like you conduct business
You know the power of rumor
You know the power of advertising
You put 'em together for your fuckin' witch hunt
You don't like to be demonized
But you like to leperize
You say hate is un-PC
But you're full of it
Just like you're full of shit
For someone so punk
You act so fuckin' prep
Fuck you and your emo
Fuck you and your irony
Fuck you and your candidates
Fuck you and your teachers
Fuck you and your jobs
Fuck you and your reputations
Fuck you and your excuses for parties
Fuck you and your parents
Fuck you and your gods
Fuck you and your schools
Fuck you and your friends
Fuck you and your hangouts
Fuck you and your piercings
Fuck you and your babies
Oh, look how cute they are
Oh, look how grown up you are
Oh, look how responsible you are
Look at the hot shit
And how it shits out more shit
I wanna be a fuckin' yuppiekiller
I wanna kill American Psycho
I wanna see you on your knees
In front of me
I wanna hear you beg
I wanna hear you cry
I wanna hear you reason
I wanna hear you pray
I wanna hear you bargain
I wanna fuck the shit out of your girlfriend
I wanna be the yuppiekiller
I wanna kill you
- Kyle Segars
(added 05.29.11)
POSSESSED BY ANGELS
Feelin' like shit, nowhere to turn
I hate myself, but I'm afraid to burn
Need a new thing, a reason to exist
This old way won't be missed
There is an order of things
So sorry I hurt its feelings
Whether it was heavy metal music
Sex, drinking, drug dealings
Take a bath in my shame
Crucify my mortification
The new me will get it right
The old will face damnation
Step forward to honor all these laws before me
Look at all the weak people trying to ignore me
For the love of love, I'll feed them medicine for deep within their soul
If they should refuse, label as "lost cause", into the toilet bowl
Shut them up and shut them down
Merciless in my crusade
It's worth it to do the righteous
And it's worth it to be paid
Possessed by angels, light so bright that I can hardly see
I'm so thankful for this chance to make another asshole outta me
- Kyle Segars
(featured in the poetry forum 10.05.10)
POLITIKAL KORREKTNESS
Politikal korrektness
Is fraught with zero tolerance
With zero tolerance
We find unadulterated intolerance
Politikal korrektness
Is an absurd parody
Of what it supposedly
Opposes
Politikal korrektness
Means zero diversity
It is truly globalization
Corporate and greedy
Masquerading as diversity
While delivering promises
To build a perfect Utopia
(Which all fascism
And dictatorships were built on)
If you read this
And accusatorily call me a right-wing hatemonger
Politikal korrektness has done its job and you've missed the point
- Kyle Segars
(featured in the poetry forum 08.03.10)
GEEKY BONDAGE GIRL
Gazing at me
Through your glasses
Talking to me
Through your braces
Your nasal voice
Muffled with a silk scarf
It cuts a swathe
Through your freckles
As it holds tight between
Your gleaming teeth
In your glowing smile
Black tape rates you an "x"
For each nipple
I tie you up
With whatever I can find
Your wrists pulled together
And your knees as well
Bound with neckties
Their dainty knots leave dangling tips
That more elegantly resemble
Your untied Converse shoelaces
- Kyle "Kylie" Segars
(added 08.03.10)
OUT OF STYLE AND TRES UNCOOL
I am the world's most toxic bachelor
And I wonder if Christians would wear a knife around their necks
If I woulda got hold to Jesus
Instead of Judas Iscariot
I'm 26 years old and scared shitless
When I look at how 15-year-old kids
Act the same way my mom did during the 1980s/early 1990s wave of Satanic panic
Stop me if you've heard this one
Some ex-conformist kid went through various stages of anti-conformist conformity
And still didn't find something socially acceptable at the end
All the same, he had a conscience
And didn't settle for being a crackhead thug with only one thing on his mind
Despite his ever increasing awareness of the moral ambiguities of the human race of animals
In his spare time, he listened to his favorite violent music
To combat the stagnation he was forced to put up with as an adolescent
And now here I am in the city
Every bit as vilified as a bumbling bad guy just because I still hate the stagnation
As it is ever strong
And even the young crave more
Like rotten milk from a dead mother's nipple
I am so fucked
Feel lucky if I don't take you out with me when I turn 30
If I make it that long.
- Kyle Segars
(featured in the poetry forum 05.28.10)
THE RED HERRING
All that is negative and of decay
Is what you will guess that I am
Guesses educated and/or casual
Observing the deceptive surface
And arriving at the conclusion
That dictates your deception vs. mine
Throughout my years, you will always see
What holes there are in me
Judging by this imperfection, whether yours or mine
You will never see through those holes
As the people continue to die
As the killers stalk you
As this world burns
I am the easiest explanation
And a false one as well
Even if there seems to be both a killer and a savior
Inside every heart
I am the dark at the end of your hallway
And the more you kill me
And the more you try to white me out
The further inside my darkness your murderer will hide
Smiling at the scent of your mortal blood
- Kyle Segars
(added 05.28.10)
THE LOWER LIFEFORM
Loser at living
Stronger than some, but too weak
Hungers burn to blurry white
- Kyle Segars
(featured in the poetry forum 04.02.10)
NIGHTMARE VICTIM
She crept onto my bed
I woke to her presence
Her knife's blade glistening
Her smile coldly calm
And at peace with her volatile deeds
She was pleased with the pain that she had caused
But never satisfied
Only pleased
Hedonistically hungry
For more carnage
More suffering
This was bliss to her
And appealed to whatever it was
That plagued her so impenetrably that
She could only smile
Somehow, I knew some extent
Of the things she had done
And I knew very well how easily
It could have been done to me
As I had slumbered on the edge of her sharp metal implement
The edge of her foreboding and knowledged accomplice
The edge she had thrown herself over
Never to return again
I knew that I could be next still
And even that I would be
In the coming days
That would prove to be her last
Her presence casting bloody shadows
Over the sanctity of my home
With each day
I knew that my death was closer
It hardly pained me to know
What had to be done
But if I were to be caught
My grave dug even deeper
Her struggle was a careless parody
Even as her knives came from nowhere
And I plucked them from her hands
With no effort needed
Her submission, campy and graceful
Welcoming what was to come
Lacking in any change of her countenance
Or any change of mind
Her request that I cut her across the face
Was met many times over
In part, scrapes and scratches
In part, bleeding slashes
That I applied to her in a veil of cuts
How could I immediately dispose of this evil
That had placed itself so willingly
Even sickeningly
At my mercy
Or lack thereof?
So happily she accepted a gag
Soft and white
Between bloody red lips
That smiled with a child's play glee
She once looked like a demon
Now she was a cherub
Beneath blond hair
And still nothing had changed
Not even my nagging fear
Not even her prevailing happiness
Not even both our most deeply disturbed
Most bloodthirsty desires
I could not kill her here
It would be only one disturbance too many
And the key to my cell
Which would be thrown away forever
When the lock slipped into place
Over my own private hell
I couldn't risk this freedom I knew
And this power I had
Neither could I risk the life within me
And loose her into my deranged world once again
Especially because it was much less blackly wicked than hers
Though no less insane
I placed her in a plastic bag
Of a large industrial size
Still no efforts to escape
No efforts to scream through her gag
Only such a participation
As the kind in the games of children
I waited as patiently as I could
Upon my establishment of plans
To deny her all existence
In my life or anyone else's
And, like me
She also patiently waited
Smiling a gagged, bleeding smile
In her dark plastic cocoon
A body bag for a breathing body
And, finally, he came
An associate known through mutual friends
(All of them crooks and decadents)
Away, she was taken with him
To what was to be
Quite painfully frankly
Her site of disposal
Never a fight
Or a word or a whimper
She surely died
The same way I knew her
So fully, completely, and peacefully ready
My indifference toward her plight
Merely arose out of my fears for my own well-being
However
In hindsight
It seems so frighteningly special
That she chose me
Disgust and regret
Cannot hide the love that might have been
But this reality can
And she is dead
Very dead
Hopefully dead
Happily dead
And gone forever.
- Kyle Segars
(added 04.02.10)
DEAD LIGHT DISTRICT
The night was dark
But my visions were darker
There were so few people
Wandering the streets
It was almost like a ghost town
And I actually hoped
That I wouldn't pass
A single passerby
Whether it be a cop
With their lights
And their probing questions
And
(The worst possibility)
The checking of my pockets
Or some crack-hungry thug
With his flashing blade
And his nothingness inside
Craving anything he imagined
He could possibly take from me
Quiet, dead silence
Choked the life-giving air
Of its very own life
Streetlamps blared here and there
Others had gone black with resignation
My mind raced with dreams
Of red light and late night movie marquees
And groups of wild, nocturnal revellers
But this was dead light
And none of that was here
Not even the ghetto is interesting anymore.
- Kyle Segars
(added 02.11.10)
EXPLAINING THINGS
People have asked me often
Why I hate emos as much as I do
While others
Have often lumped me in with them
And here's why
Because you wanna know so bad
A few reasons, really:
Emos have no passion
They are the residue
That results from forty plus years of passionate subcultures
They are not to be respected as the "last hurrah"
Because it already happened
Even more than my self-destruction
(Which itself connotes at the very least
A basic, individualistic defiance)
They are evident of people getting tired of defiance
They have no fire
And, for you to say I have no fire
You haven't seen me swing a baseball bat
And I don't mean at a ball
They are the stink on the wall
Upset that they haven't been cleaned
Unknowing that they have been
No passion
The carnivals, the grindhouses, the violent shows
Whether real or imagined
Were violent because they couldn't be anything else
Nick Cave wrapping a microphone cord
Around some bitch's neck
Demanding, "Express yourself!"
The emos never felt they were cheated by culture
They felt they were cheated by a watered-down, acceptable version of "love"
And acceptance
Don't get me wrong
I felt the same way
Another reason I hate them
Was I was very similar to them
Years ago
Cutting and burning myself
Listening to the Cure and the Smiths
And I WAS a phone stalker
I never pretended to be
I WAS
I never imagined doing it
But I WAS
And, years later
I understood it was a lost cause
Pathetic, useless, only pissing on my own grave
Never mind about the last nail in the coffin
The emos idolize the behavior I once committed
As iconography
While my mere presence creeps them out
Makes them wanna
Run home
To Mommy and Daddy and church
So, yeah
These assholes, supporting a cultural vacuum
Saying they're the forgotten ones
Never to see their comfortable hypocrisy
As I boil in a room
That was made for living
As it makes me FEEL
That I wanna crush these pretentious little Top-40 pricks
With their scene-friendly, hip, passionless, unimaginative "mentality"
Fuck them
And fuck you if you can't understand that I am outnumbered
And not just some bully
Truly
Get fucked.
- Kyle Segars
(featured in the poetry forum 02.11.10)
MISOGYNISTIC WOMAN
Seeing through her eyes
Every other female
Is a slut and/or a bitch
You've got to wonder
How she sees herself
Especially because
She identifies as feminist
I haven't seen enough
Women
Pound her face
In fact, she has quite an entourage
Even if all around her
Count as commodities
Or foot soldiers
Or targets of blame
She is really a sociopathic man
And I
Am an equally misogynistic woman
Strange how much I wanted to love her
And how much she needed to hate me
- Kyle Segars
(added 02.11.10)
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