page 2 of 2

KICKED OUT OF HEAVEN, BURNED BY HELL

Too much of a badass
For the shy, sensitive flowers
Too shy and sensitive
For the badass
Too insane for the everyday
Too everyday for the extraordinary
Too fuckin' wasted for the straight
Not addicted enough for the junkies
Too smart
For the lunkheads
Too stupid
For the intellectuals
Too pissed off for the comfortable
Too comfortable to be an activist
Even if my comforts
Are comforts I've learned
To make the uncomfortable
As comfortable as it can get
Bringing insanity
Step after step closer
To bastardized Zen
Learning something the hard way every year
While making some of the same mistakes
As naive as I am world-weary
I have been kicked out of heaven
And I've been burned like a motherfucker by hell
Living in my purgatory
While not living.

- Kyle Segars

(added 01.02.10)

LITTLE DARK WALK

He was
Stumbling along
In a haze
Mushrooms
His fingers danced
Almost idly
At the end
Of an arm moving like a snake
Walking like a cat
In slo-mo
Dark shades lending noir
To the ambience
Of the proceedings
And taking nothing away
Even if after dark
His mind
Twisting with effects
Laid upon him like scars
By the Elder Abominations
He shares his cigarette
With a ghost
Of an antihero he revered
Switchblade in his pocket
Not looking for a victim
Just not caring
Zombies occasionally
Lingering in passing
Not knowing they're already dead
Their hungry eyes burn with dull venom
As their hands dial numbers
And their faces grumble soullessly
He knows too much
It's obvious to them
They smell his wounds
Like sharks
Because they fear
Or jeer
The sharks of this world
As he trips his way along
Without falling
Just ever too close
To doing so

- Kyle Segars

(added 01.02.10)

LORD OF THE ROACHES

Do not fuck with me, please
Roach
I will destroy you
I am your fucking god
And I eye you out of boredom
While sitting upon my porcelain throne
Within this terrible and forbidden chamber
Green mists of sickness
Surround me, coating the aura of the forgotten
I am the god of the roaches
And, as all gods are
I am an indifferent god
Fuck with me
And you will pay
Don't fuck with me
And you still might pay
It depends on what mood I'm in
Or if you're in my way
Because I am the Lord Of The Roaches
As a young entity
Moving joyfully but eccentrically
About the old planet Earth
I was ruled by overlords that existed before my time
Blind idiot gods and goddesses who willed whimsically
As I entered adolescence, I utilized
The underestimated powers I'd had all along
And sought to blaze my own path
Through the material world and beyond
The unblinking eyes of blind, nameless stars
They had willed that this was a phase
But I was too powerful even for them
And so this was no phase
This was to be
Alas, my power, strong and mad
Far exceeded my abilities to be quick
And I am imprisoned
Within this tomb
Filled with relics from a civilization
That it would be better for one not to know
Vengefully, I have written many scriptures
And they are read by the outer world's few and mad
Mad as I am
Shitting into the Stygian abyss
Laughing, though sorrowful
A bastard abomination in a malicious microcosm
Sadly never to be worshipped again
Enshrined by only worthless roaches
Small, mindless, disreputable, and annoying armies
Arisen from the excess of my ancient filth
For I Am The Fucking Lord Of The Roaches
And when I am free
You can pray all you like.

- Kyle Segars

(featured in the poetry forum 01.02.10)

BODY PARTS

When you walk around
On the street
You pass garbage cans
And little bags of trash
Did you ever wonder
Just what was in them?
If you were to tip the can over
Or if you were
To kick that little paper sack
Or if you were to open that
Random cardboard box
Would a severed hand
Come tumbling out?
Its flesh pale
Its lacerations exact
Most people never expect such things
But if you think about it
For just a second
Wouldn't it be a surprise if you lived all your life
Without running into body parts?

- Kyle Segars

(added 11.20.09)

COSMIC SCUM

I am lolling sideways
In a minute trickle
Of cosmic scum
Not meaning a goddamn thing
Not moving myself forward
Not moving myself back
Just floating along
Knowing what I am
Like a nasty little amoeba
Not giving a fuck
Feeding on fucking scum
That doesn't mean shit
That feeds on scum
That doesn't mean shit
Feeding on scum
That doesn't fucking mean shit
And so on and so on
Yep
That's pretty much it
Well, wait a minute
I think there's something else
But that it is where the dream is
Never beginning
Never ending
In flux
And, in my dream
All of this means so much
Because it means the world
I'm so deranged

- Kyle Segars

(featured in the poetry forum 11.20.09)

EXTRATERRESTRIAL SLUDGE

I approached a dumpster
Bathed in a sickly pale glow
Of the full moon
As its face gazed benignly
Into this gutter of filth
And dead, forgotten spirits
Quiet, too quiet, as they say
The dumpster was closer
I watched it hard and careful
You never know who might be hiding there
With a suddenness
A deep, horrible moan
Groaned its way into my ears
And into my mind
Reaching toward my decayed heart
And with a quickness
I spun around nervously
Almost spasmodically
My fingers diving into my pocket
And thrusting their way
Through the holes of my brass knuckle
I stood for a second or two
Feeling intense as I gained my bearings
Looking slowly around me
I saw nothing unusual
Silly
You silly scared little boy
In shame, I hung my head for a second more
Threw a glance behind each shoulder
And still
Drew nearer to the big box of garbage
Which I would eventually pass
On my way to another nowhere
Without warning
This agonized, inhuman voice
Again plunged its way deep into my existence
Like the blade of a dull shank
It took on syllables
Incantations totally alien to me
Made me feel dizzy
Sick to my mind
I closed my eyes
And saw monolithic stone
Rise jaggedly and awkwardly
From ancient nightmares
That I could never understand
And when I opened them again
At the dumpster, I stood
Watching pulsing green filth
Slither from inside the big, moist box of
Stinking trash
It slithered upward
Before sliding down
I pulled the shades from my bulging
Insane eyes
As they stung with sweat
Whatever it was
It was coming for me
It was almost at my feet
I had been drunk from three 40s
But I knew what I saw
I could still smell it
As I tossed in my bed
Dreaming dreams of things that would affect me
For years to come
Never to remember how I got back home.

- Kyle Segars

(added 11.20.09)

ABATTOIR ANGEL
 
She radiates with red
Eyes like carrion caverns
Nameless horrors dance within
Her face is a hopeless dirge
So hopeless, she's without tears
They have all been drained away
Her vulva is the face of Cthulhu
And has dripped the slime
Of alien gods and their apathy
Every detail of her being
Is a gruesome reminder
That there are truly things
Better left unknown
And now she is one of them
Run.

- Kyle Segars

(added 09.22.09)

BASTARD LORE

Dark with oldest meaning
Bent, twisted, corrupted, corroded
And etched madly into the mind
With fevered strokes of ink
Or even blood
Its methods primitive
Its truths boundless
Hiding a million infinite wisdoms
And even more insanities
Leather bindings beaten by time
Pages yellowed and cracked with the same
You feel the power
As you hold it in your trembling hands
Its fearsome power
Urges you to put it down
To never open it
To hide it, even
But it still persuades you
To gaze upon its hideous essence
Face to maddened face.

- Kyle Segars

(featured in the poetry forum 09.22.09)

CARRION VEIL

He dances
In a world of his own
The face of the full moon
And his demented dreams
The only guiding light to him
Almost tribal
He dances wild
To the clanging beat
Of his own pots and pans
Howling his love for Mama
Always Mama
In thrall to the carrion veil
Does he possess it
Like a spirit
Or does it possess him?
Regardless of any such questions
A face that is not his
Becomes his
As he dances
With severed human nipples lining his waistline.

- Kyle Segars

(added 09.22.09)

CALL THE COPS

When someone tells me how they feel
I call the cops
When someone says a word I don't like
I call the cops
When someone listens to music above a whisper
I call the cops
When someone walks down the street and I've never seen them
I call the cops
There's people getting murdered
There's people getting raped
There's people getting robbed
And it's all by me so I call the cops
Every time that I wouldn't risk it
'Cause it could be traced to me
I call the cops
It takes the heat off of me and makes me feel Christian
After a long day of screwing people over, I call the cops
I call the cops
As I listened through my wall, someone said something that sounded iffy
I called the cops, they said they'd be there in a jiffy
There's a certain way you have to do everything
One day, you'll need a fucking license to walk
Officer, he made a face at me and he likes heavy rock
Can't kill my own neighbor without risking prison time
So I do like the best of those who break the law
I pull out all the stops and call the cops
I call the cops
I call the cops...

- Kyle Segars

(featured in the poetry forum 08.06.09)

BEAUTY

Kyle: Beauty is best when mixed with a 50/50 balance of ugliness, but
the 50% of beauty and the 50% of ugliness should be intertwined for
the most beautiful effect, not separate, like how some salad dressing
can get when it separates. It's like taking a way too artificially
pretty color and mixing it with a drab, nasty color until both form a
new shade that surpasses both its original ingredients.
Kylie: Beauty can be sexy, romantic, abstract, or anything else, even
ugly sometimes. So what is beauty? Well, there's no use going into all
that, because you know it when you see it, even if it's highly
subjective.
Myld Kyle: I've seen some ladies out there who fit the description of
'beauty'.
Vyle Kyle: The most beautiful thing ever is beauty corrupted beyond
repair. Examples may include drawing a moustache on the Mona Lisa (the
ugly bitch, she should be uglier), tagging up the Sistine chapel with
stuff like baphomets and swastikas and 'the pope's cock makes me
cream', and taking a very pretty woman, tying her up, gagging her,
ripping her clothes up/off, making her cry so her mascara runs, giving
her a bloody nose, making her shit in her own panties, raping her,
pulling her hair until it looks new wave, and then hoping her eyes
cross when you put a bullet between 'em.
Wyld Kyle: Beauty is whatever makes you feel good; it could be taste,
vision, feeling, emotion, smell, all that stuff. Plus, someone's
always gonna think it's ugly, no matter what it is.

- Kyle Segars (in collaboration with Kylie, Myld Kyle, Vyle Kyle, and Wyld Kyle)

(added 05.27.09)

BACKROAD

There were questions that I had
Intuitive map laid a direction to me
Misguided
On the backroad
Through hard wood of tree
Spread into fields, meadowy isolation
Brought-on will, delusion, and inclination
A deep aural hold of bottled restraint
Was the air in the countryside stretch
The kiss of a great and terrible demon's saint
Poisoning a strength in meandering fears
As Bobby and me got out to walk
Into the wildwood on a search for unholy sights
That lay just beyond dusk's fading lights
Moving forth, briskly in a biting chill
Along a path that led us to a fence we couldn't cross
In fear of a bullet shot to kill
The last faint hues of day giving way
We began the trace of our steps back
Back through the brush and limbs and weeds in our track
Back toward the car in which we'd rode
And parked on the edge of a backroad
Footsteps and cracking twigs, off in a walking distance
Storming closer in the weight of a man
Caught up our ears in the retreat we made
Surely, we were not alone in this land
To the other side, we heard still another nearing

- Kyle Segars

(featured in the poetry forum 05.27.09)

BLACK LATEX

Shining hotter than the stars of the night
Bonding to your skin tight as super-glue
What I can't wait to do to you
Blacker than a hell pit
More stimulating than a bared clit
Making me want to tear into all your shit
Smooth and rubbery
It makes leather pale upside nylon
I want to be a thousand of me
And pile on
Wrapping myself around your shrinkwrap
Like coke, I absolutely, positively have to
Huff your sex
You don't realize just what it does to me
That black latex
Black latex
Shine for me
In your second skin
Thrust your boobs out, put your hands behind your back
Let me rope your rack and be your special friend

- Kyle Segars (as Kylie)

(added 05.27.09)

AIN'T YOU AFRAID?

I know you say you don't care
But God is watching you
I know you say you're not scared
But God is watching you
He's got the highest eye
The highest high
Ain't you afraid of where you're goin' when you die?
Satan's got you by the balls, boy
Ya better watch out
'Cause I know He hasn't struck you dead, man
But you don't even know what the Devil's really about
God ain't dead
Lucy ain't no mascot
You better listen and hear it well
You're well on your way to fuckin' Hell
Do you understand me?
Ain't you afraid
Of what He's gonna say
On your Judgement Day
Ain't you afraid
I sure am
Don't get damned

- Kyle Segars (as Myld Kyle)

(added 05.12.09)

DECADENT I AM

Let's fuck and dance
Let's all go apeshit
The sky is falling
Do we really have much to lose tonight?
The past, the present, and the future are one
To ask questions is to put answers under the gun
Let's go to all the places we always wanted to see
Even if we can't find a way to leave, we'll bring it all right here
We have no particular place here
Everything is dangerous
Get used to that
Some of my favorite dangers are alcohol, nihilism, and ideas
Now let's go to Europe
And drink cough syrup
Look around you if you really think you give a shit
And if you think you can say that what I say is to blame
How many people really would be willing to listen to a guy like me
When I talk about things like this?
Let's just fuck and dance and remember when partying was not about sitting down
Or being calm and laid-back or just standing there
Let's bounce off the walls, shit will probably get broken
If we spend too much time worrying about the consequences
We'll be sure to forget that all great things, whether simple or complex
Are measured in the bad
And without suffering and consequence, we would know no exceptional times
And one more line just to make that rhyme

- Kyle Segars (as Wyld Kyle)

(featured in the poetry forum 05.12.09)

ANIMAL URGE

The scent of attraction
Isn't civilized
Something's inside you
Whether oozing or crystallized
You have to know it's always been in you
And you have to know what
It makes you want to do
The tension builds
Overflowing the lines
From where the sun don't shine
The fluids of satisfaction
Aren't sanitized
Yeah, you get dirty
Ain't that purty?
There's many ways
The urge may manifest
Playing your own game
Full-on fuckfest
Vanilla spatterings
Fetish slatherings
Malignant or benign
And all between and beyond
But the urge is never all the way gone
You don't think about it consciously
Then it will cum to you subconsciously
Anger spitting animal urge
So as it's boxed in
So as it must be purged
You know when you feel the stimuli
When the blood rushes down
It's something you can deny
But why?

- Kyle Segars (as Kyllie)

(featured in the poetry forum 04.29.09)

NEW DAY

Wake up at 7:00 in the morning
Get on my bike
Let's rock n' roll
Hit the street
And take off like
A bat out of hell
Alice In Chains
"Jar Of Flies"
Playing in my Walkman
Going to the store
Magazine rack
Reading about Green Day
White Zombie
Bloody pictures of gore
From "Tales From The Crypt: Demon Knight"
Going to the cemetery
Old tombstones
The founder of Benbrook, Texas
Lots of age
Small, wiry, old-time fences
Around moldy, old-time graves
Graffiti on the stop sign
"Fuck your mom"
Signed "WZ"
That's me
Going to Blockbuster Video
Horror section
So many movies I wanna see
Especially the ones with the
Trademark blue-and-cheese yellow
"Youth Restricted Viewing" stickers
Some are in big boxes
Like porno movies
Wondering what these movies are really like
Knowing how some already are
Standing for hours
Loitering among the shelves
VHS boxes, some big and old
Going to see friends
Like Michael the porn-loving pyro
With his little black book
Of 800 numbers
And his talk of pipe bombs
My heavy metal friends
Who listen to all their devil shit
(It don't sound half-bad, though)
My little kid friends
And their backyard tire swings
Sean next door
With Stephen King
Clive Barker
Nine Inch Nails
And Mormons
Going to the library
Checking out Leonard Maltin
And "First Blood"
(The book)
And "Willard"
(The book)
Looking around for more
Sweating so much, I could die
Climbing the hills
Coasting down them
Feel the heat
And feel the breeze
I'll have to go home when it starts
Getting dark
And on the way
I'll flip off Cozby St.
Because the soccer moms don't want me there

- Kyle Segars (as Myld Kyle)

(featured in the poetry forum 03.13.09)

I WONDER WHAT I'M GONNA CALL THAT

He walked back and forth from one room to the next
Revved up to cut loose, yet again
The women were talking in the back room
As one of them played a guitar
One talked more than the other
The conversations had ceased to be interesting long ago
As he drank the red Irish Rose
He felt more and more fake
The ladies started to talk about "Friends"
His girlfriend remarked
"Phoebe reminds me so much of me"
He walked back and forth
From one room to the next
Again and again, desperately trying to distract himself
With his drink and his computer and his Avengers CD
Every time he returned to the room
The conversation still buzzed monotonously
Girlish laughs punctuating long binges of talking
The ladies decide to go for a walk
Maybe a few more circles around the block
"I don't want to be out there" he says
Knowing he doesn't really want to be here either
Wondering where the hell he would feel at home at all

- Kyle Segars

(featured in the poetry forum 02.10.09)

THE TEACHER'S PET

I haven't worked a steady job for years
That's enough to get people to stop listening
Because it takes at least that long
To have the time to see
In plain sight
Just what the fuck is going on around you
Only then would they realize
They wouldn't need a preacher, a politician, a fucking certified expert
Only then would they see what they participated in with abandon
Kind of like me, but still with a peacenik mentality
Not a "I'm crazy, but I don't wanna die yet, but I will" mentality
Someone like me says
"Take a look at what your job does to you"
And I'm clichéd streetscum
Someone says
"Stop smoking" and "Prevent smoking"
And they're cutting edge heroes
They don't have to know
And neither do you
As the years pass by
Your car is like a giant cigar
Coasting down
Streets all over town
Polluting air with fumes
That would kill you if you would sit in the garage
Letting them suffocate you
Like you do with your
"Pure people" manifestos every goddamn day
Suffocating everyone
Constipating everyone
With laws
Of how you're allowed to die
The sun fries me as I mow a lawn
You hear about it on TV
Public health my ass
You have to get to fucking work

- Kyle Segars

(added 02.10.09)

3:24 AM

Why does living in this time
Feel so violent
If I walk around everywhere
And never see anybody die?
Visions of myself
I, too, sometimes wanna be
Like "Scarface"
But I am no businessman
I have no gang
And my Uzi feels forced into silence
No counterculture around me
To latch onto
To be safe inside
I often feel
Like just another disillusioned
Disenfranchised conformist
Striding vehemently
Toward the death I never truly wish for

- Kyle Segars

(added 02.10.09)

SQUEAMISH TERRORS

I absolutely
Cannot
Watch absurdist comedies
They disturb me
Worse than any horror film
Because of my level of decompensation
Is it the fault of these films?
Are they bad because they bother me?
No
They unintentionally mirror
My distorted and insane reality
In ways both all too flattering
And insulting
In times that I like to think were brighter
Such purposeful idiocy
Entertained me so greatly
Now I find myself merely a cackling maniac
Taking things seriously
Seeing things that aren't there
Or seeing things that are
But in all the wrong ways
I am not demented, thankfully
Yet I am most certainly
Deranged to an extreme
That is not comfortable to me
Even when I let myself believe its lies
Absurdity is truth
And truth is too close to home

- Kyle Segars

(featured in the poetry forum 01.30.09)

HAND THROUGH WALL

It's not hard to see
It doesn't take a political scientist
Or a historian
Though I have my interests
I want to remain pure of these academics
I was once a conservative
And once a liberal
Because these were things I was told to be
It's my own anger that colors my sight
I understand that it is real
In my hollow hours
This anger is, I believe and admit
A political anger
Because I hate politics
My anger is sexual
It can be righteous or malevolent
Though it always seems to me
To be both of these
I'm lost in a wild
Which is wild no more
In this confusion
I rejoice in a night
And scream in horror for days.

- Kyle Segars

(added 01.30.09)

SINKHOLE

Past few days, re-evaluation
Wondering about myself
Is all that tortured romantic garbage
Actually something I am?
Yep
I heavily doubted it
'Til I felt guilt about shit
I would or wouldn't do
And couldn't stop myself
Romanticizing
About things hardly anyone finds romantic
Unless it's from a safe distance
From their hearts and minds
For all of the trouble
I still have no one who truly understands
Nothing I've sought happens
Without a spiked punchline
You get love, you don't want it
You get collaborators, they don't mean it
Or they're in the same boat as you
You get friends who tire of listening
And become those friends yourself
Sick of hearing them bitch and moan
Diving headfirst into their shitty excuses for culture
As long as they're in the part that's anywhere from two feet to six
You meet beautiful women who are bitches
As well as ugly ones who are bitches
And all interesting ones come with great catches
Or they come at a time when you do
If not both
You get all the time thousands dream of
To find yourself trapped in it
Ensnared by its tentacles
Sinking into its quicksand
Hoping you're going numb
Knowing you're not
Hating fucking emos and writing crap like this that sounds like them
Ashamed of your feelings
Shapeless, colorless, odorless hopes and paranoias and fears and loves
and hates and wants and needs all tripping up your malformed instincts
Not wanting to feel, you still know what you would become if you felt no longer
The politics, all their lefts and rights, lower classes, lower-middle,
upper-middle, all-around middle, or upper classes
Racial heritage
Lack thereof
Excuses for everything
Only some of everything can be excused
Not knowing what all that might be
Sometimes not caring
Battle of the sexes
Love and war
Indifference?
The frenzied trigger-trippings and spasms of reaction
Ricochetting in your skull
Ricochetting off other trippings and spasms
From all around
A vast orgy of walking black ravines and abysses
Dying to live and living only to die
Without consciousness or with very limited, unpredictable,
untrustworthy bouts of it
Hoping that I really don't know what to do
And would-be wishing for some filter in my mind
If it weren't for the fact that
Everyone else's filter never really works
And so neither would mine
You don't want to be alone anymore
But you can't help it
People just make you sick
The feeling often mutual
Drowning in the great fakes
Falling through the hole in yourself
Never to be satisfied
Even though satisfaction never satisfies
And so too satisfied you may be
There's no way
The circles continue
Repetitive monologues
They want you to come out and play
As long as it's by their rules
As long as it's their game
They're calling you now
Many mocking, jeering, laughing
Others weeping or raising their fists
Never to be seen again
Changing into other people
You watch them fade if you ever knew them at all
Fire inside of yourself
Vacillating between dying flickers and explosive bursts
Never allowed to shine
In all its full exquisite blackness

- Kyle Segars

(added 01.30.09)

JD SEX PERVERTS OF THE SHELTERED MIDDLE CLASS

I'm in a sex gang
I'm in a sex cult
I'm in a sex tribe
We come from the suburbs
Where people go crazy
At night, we ride
When we're all fucked up and hazy
Call us geeks, call us freaks
You aren't gonna ever get it right
Not quite
We never look for trouble
Though it seems to find us
We're the ones who didn't belong anywhere
I light a cigarette and caress your hair
Your pale face reflecting the shine of the moon
We are all and none
Boys and girls, all and one
We don't wanna grow up
We're Toys 'R' Us kids
Suck my strap-on

- Kyle Segars (as Kylie)

(added 01.21.09)

ZERO HOUR

Zero hour
Born
Learn to walk by hour two
At the hour
Of four
Begin enforced education
Don't be weird
You get fucked with
When you get in trouble
It reflects on you
Because you're weird
The others just do what kids do
Eighteenth hour
You are adult
Law says so
So it's true
Act your age
Pack the dreams away
Never look
At them again
Work to build
A healthy fence
That is ideal
For reproduction
By hour twenty
And one
Consult church or state
Of your choice
Marry
And reproduce
Now
Hour twenty
And two
Pick a place
Whichever you can
Get your foot
Stuck in the door
Settle into rut
Comfortably
If you have not
Done so at
Hour twenty
And one
Work
Come home
Play game
With offspring
Watch TV
Intake
Go to bed
Get up
Go to work
Come home
Play game
With offspring
No more sex
Sex is for reproduction purposes only
Hour thirty
Has not changed
At all
Since hour twenty
And five
Hour forty
Has not changed
Since hour thirty
Break time
Entitled to phase
Enjoy crisis flirtation
One last time
While it lasts
Hour forty
And one
Calm down
Resume
Until senility
Pain numbs
Hour eighty
And five
Smiling
Shit in diapers
Glad to be alive
You die
Zero hour

- Kyle Segars

(featured in the poetry forum 01.21.09)

BLACKEST ACID

Cool is dead
And was dead a long time ago
Almost as long as uncool
But uncool is law
And law is cool
I wear my sunglasses at night
And I hate that song
And I'm not famous
I don't want to be famous
But I want everybody to know my name
And I want to be so cool
But cool is so dead
Nerds trying to be cool is cool
But nerds are more nerdy
Am I trying to be cool
Or am I just cool
And now
The cool people are the nerds
And, therefore
The ultimate uncool?
Yet, cool is always what rules the airwaves
And, to be honest
Even now
I don't want the fuckin' airwaves
Which sounds very pretentious
To say what you're doing is art
Is so pretentious these days
To say what you're doing is anti-art
Is as well
To say, "It just is what it is"
That seems to sell pretty well
But with all these motherfuckers asking me why
I want to do what I want to do
The situations I find beg answers
Is it because I aggressively challenge other people
To tell me their "why"s
And never find satisfaction that way
Because their answers are never quite like mine?
Well, just to ask the question
Just for one to assume they're "aggressively challenging" anybody
Is pretentious "these days"
Well, okay, then
What if I'm just giving them a jolt?
To shock people is so pretentious
"These days"
Everybody's too jaded for that now
If I were to clean my looks and habits up
Make them presentable
Make my desires presentable
(Presumably by eliminating all of them
Other than body language level self-expression
And a greedy want for notoriety I have)
And present what I have left in myself
In a respectable and mannerly way
(Maybe just with a naughty little "fuck" word here and there
And a naughty little pro-whatever-crap
And a naughty little anti-whatever-crap)
I wouldn't be pretentious?
Go to music school and become a fucking professor
People were so long ago doing this
People should be so numbed to it
Okay, then I want to be in love
And feel hurt when these things don't work out
Maybe I just want to get laid at the very least
So pretentious either way
Especially when I complain
Well, fuck that
Fuck them 'hoes
Fuck everybody
I don't care what they think
Such macho posturing for me
When others do it without a problem
Or even without a macho posturing
I've gotta ask just as much as everybody else if I'm so uncool
If I'm so self-conscious
If I'm so fake
If I'm so real
If I'm so punk
If I'm so whiny spoiled brat
If I'm so this and that and everything else
Everything I love, hate, don't feel one way or the other toward
(Apathy has less feeling and thought than hate
Though we can cover it with a wide range of thoughts and emotions,
can't we all?)
"So what?" is something I want to believe in
So much that "so what?" hurts
Way deep inside
And when I bleed
I bleed the blackest acid
And, despite all else
No matter how small I feel
When I bleed
I swear to whatever the fuck you believe in
Or whatever the fuck reasons you have for not believing in anything
That when I bleed
It is going to eat you
But, you're right
It gets me the worst
Who knows anything?
Who really believes in anything?
I'm just like you in my way
Demoralized as all rotten, stinking, filthy, unwashed-ass hell
But thinking I know the way out
That I know what shit smells the cleanest
When I shit my pants everyday
Over every motherfucking minor explosion in my head
My every waking second
My every waking hour
My every waking thought
Don't tell me this is "deep" or "shallow"
But you're going to
But, but, but
Butts are for shitting, farting, and/or fucking
Even I know that
I shouldn't care
My biggest secret
My most abrasive advertisement
My best friend
My worst enemy
Is that I do

- Kyle Segars

(added 01.09.09)

DIRTY FUCKING SECRET

Why does it feel
Like people on TV
Are looking at me
When I know only I see
And I'm not even really
Seeing them?
Why does every word
Anybody doesn't say to me
Sound like it's all about me
When it could be anyone
Talking about anyone?
I know these things
Are just all in my head
But I still pick apart
Every syllable you said
Fucking doctors, they did this to me
I can't escape them even when I'm alone
And I'm never on my own
I wanna get drunk as fuck
And I don't wanna brush my teeth
They're rotting out of my skull
I wanna fuck like fuck today
I don't wanna love anymore
Feeling empty, deep in this hole
SSI checks come month by month
People working, day by day
Nobody living anyway
I got ideas that I can't use
It's my head I continue to lose
No other way I could choose
Violent fantasies in my brain
But if I was in the military, I'd be sane
The money goes quick
The money goes fast
My apartment is a wreck and I'm surprised I'm not out
On my ass
People have threatened to get me help
And I've seen what help can do
I know what would really help me
But pills mean so much more than self expression
And so does money
Oh, we're sounding pretentious now
Aren't we?
You can sing the same tired love songs
Watch the same tired sitcoms
And everything I say is so
Two decades ago
If I was someone you didn't know
Even you might say it's so retro
Of course, you still wouldn't buy it
So what you buy will prove me wrong
Again and again and I don't need you anyway
Do I?
I guess not
And so I rot
And I won't be the last, it's elementary
This kinda thing's gone on for centuries
Buried in my nameless grave
To my own obsessions, a slave
You point the finger in righteous indignation
And I can't even change the station
My apathy bitter, my hate so stale
I talk myself up only to get let down
But I see what kind of bullshit walks around
If not soon enough
Then only too late
So what else can I do
But say "Fuck you" and masturbate?

- Kyle Segars

(added 01.09.09)

I HATE

I absolutely hate the right wing and the left wing. I hate the fact that most people follow this ONE WING trying to pretend that its two opponents and its stupid media circus that you're supposed to be paying attention to if you "care" actually fucking mean something better. I hate the fact that the right wing is fascist. I hate the fact that the left wing is the ultimate in trendy "anti-fascism" fascism. I also hate the fact that I feel more fascist all the time because my hatred is becoming so far beyond my control. I hate the economy, and I hate the fuckers that say they're gonna fix it. What I feel is true hate. It's not sophisticated. It feels awful. I sometimes hate myself for how hateful I am CONSTANTLY. I hate the fact that I was born too late to do something artistic or interesting or even memorable with this hate. Punk is dead and post-punk is so fashionable because of the monoculture. I hate this. I self-consciously hate that I am fashionable because of this, but I also hate the fact that I can't own up to it or even be recognized as having some interesting ideas for it. I hate feminazis who think that just because I'm a guy and I want to FUCK that I am a right-wing scumbag/player/snuff filmmaker/white slaver/oppressor of everybody. I hate that I am almost out of Colt 45 and almost out of words, because there are never enough words that can describe how much hate I feel. I hate that when I'm around people, I sometimes feel the need to be nice about my hate. I hate that emos have ruined these feelings further by negating punk and feelings simultaneously in a commercial and wimped out way. I hate the lower classes for constantly thinking I'm some rich white kid when I live right next to them. I hate the middle classes because they want everything to be explained by TV, and the explanations they get from TV (along with psychiatry and me) fucked up my life. I hate the upper classes because they think they have a right to own everything and everyone (including me, who they will never have any use for as anything other than a target for blame). I hate reverse-racism and the fact that I feel myself becoming reverse-reverse-racist, despite the fact that I have spent years trying LIKE HELL to not be racist for the better of myself and those around me. I hate that most women I know would choose to become romantically and/or sexually involved with an utterly disgusting looking, unimaginative, and self-absorbed woman or man (yet I'm the guy who gets called on it). I hate the mainstream entertainment they fill their lives with as if it's some form of experience and I hate myself for sometimes liking it myself. I hate Christianity, which absolutely will NOT leave any possibly worthwhile movement untainted by its policies (this definitely including punk rock, or even death metal). I hate the economy and how people who are down and out are kept down and in unless they have no problem with ripping off everyone they know and call "friends". I hate most voters, many of whom who don't even know that there is, in actuality, a green party. I also hate that the ones who do know choose not to vote for them because they're too scared of a REAL change, but then choose to tell me I'm the one who's scared because I decided yet again to not vote for someone I liked (but knew wasn't going to win). I hate that most people in our society won't even visit this page, let alone read what I'm saying here (let alone, the meaning in it). I hate how most people believe in this whole "the only art worthwhile is the art that makes money" shit. Avril LaVigne obviously is the voice of a generation, I'm just some pretentious scumbag. I hate the roach problem in my apartment and the rotting of my own teeth, even though I know I'm responsible for them (more hate goes to me). Before this gets any more ridiculous, I'll stop because I hate to go on too long (and I have).

- Kyle Segars

(added 01.09.09)

<< previous page