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Golfing With Human Remains (poetry?)

S T A T I C H E A D S Y S T E M S P R E S E N T S :

? ello muttered the decriept old man as he ?
? t ? ???????????????????????????????? ? b ?
? h e ?
? e ? StaticHead Systems #2 ? n ?
? ? ? t ?
? e ? GoLFiNG WiTH HuMaN ReMaiNS ? ?
? d ? ? o ?
? g ? by chaos smurf ? v ?
? e ? ? e ?
? ? (C)opyThis 1994 ? r ?
? o ?
? f ? ????????????????????????????????? ? s ?
? reality at some demonic goldfish army th ?

Poetry is stupid. That's all you can say about it - it's fucking stupid.
Poetry, out of all the different forms of expression, of written or spoken
or visual or moving or whatever media, is easily the lamest, the most
boring, the most riddled with pretense, the most predictable. Poetry is for
silly, angst-ridden teenagers to write in their bedrooms or old, rediculous
art community people to prove their urgent sense of reality in coffee
shops downtown.

So, I thought I should probably write some.

These are my contributions to poetry - my contributions to an art form
that's stupid in structure and that had already been beaten to death in
every possible way years ago. These are my very own mumblings about how
depressed I've gotten, my own typical sad observations about the world
as a substitute for doing anything real (alright, alright, this is maybe
a little harsher version of poetry than it deserves, but I'm having kind
of a bad day....).

CaFe CiANiDe
Someone once said - art is not a mirror
Art is a hammer
But what if art is just sandpaper?
It's getting late - really late
The cops are all looking at me kinda funny
Everyone's looking at me kinda funny
Maybe that's good
If they weren't, I guess that'd mean I was acting like them
Got a song stuck in my head
I wonder if that's a violation of copyright laws
Maybe this isn't funny to anyone but me
I want a large order of consensus reality
No pickles
Let's just turn the world inside out
And build our graves now
So we can see what it's like to dance on them before we die
The scene's already set
I guess this is the hour
It's up on the right - you just can't miss it
Happy boys and happy girls
Ever wonder what it'd be like to wear a gas mask to your prom?
No, mutilated frogs just aren't much fun
It's about to happen - you know it
Danger is that fat kid you laughed at in 3rd grade
Safety is all relative
Just like that bullet in your head
Is this bothering you?
Does this disturb you?
Are you uncomfortable?
Well, let's fucking go surfing now
Riding the waves of that wacky Kool-Aid flavored digital sea

ReJeCTioN aGaiN
This hurts so bad I'm smiling
I like it out here, you know
All my old friends died inside of me
But here we are again
It's cold...
Really fucking cold out here
Sting me again and maybe I'll start laughing
This hurts so bad I'm smiling
Because I remember you...

Am I the only one who might find the apocalypse boring?

There's murder on your screen tonight
There's screaming in your ears tonight
Cover your children's head with blankets
Let's keep this cycle alive
Hey, calm down
I can barely remember cigarettes
I can barely remember pain
I can barely remember the elation of death and alienation
One by one by one by one
Filing down your halls
Pale and frowning in the cold
Everyday things just get worse
But none of you are bad liars

So here's a little self destructive dance for you
We're all drunk on anger now
Gleefully apathetic - this is an ironic form of rebellion
See, now our world is more confusing
Than yours

Sprawled out on the ground, eyes wide, staring up
Look at the stars....
And crumpled up on the floor, eyes closed, shaking
Look at the stars....
We made demons more frightening than the ones you told us about when
we were children
Out of ourselves
And went skateboarding with reality, hoping to die
I'll sit here, and watch the whole world fall apart
Cause I like it when the whole world falls apart
And people shatter, give up on life
Or whatever

Don't even say there's one of me in every classroom
Because there's also one of you
Good and evil?
Two more sitcoms
But we're kind of interesting around each other
Both two more destructive cartoons
Your lies are getting old
Just like you
I want to die
did you hear that?
I want to die - I grew up in your world

Icons falling
Sorta like bridges in London
Yeah, like London bridges falling down
What a boring world
What a boring town
What a boring day
What a boring class
We're all boring people
And it's too much trouble to go insane....

LYoN'S WaiTReSS GLaRe. 50s JuKe BoX BLaRe. CaFFieNe HaZe.
Tick, tock, tock, tick
Blah blah blah blah
I don't believe in sleep anymore
I don't think it really existed
I kinda like hats, though
My eyes are screaming at you
But I like to keep smiling
I'd probably need the attention span to complete an entire thought
To finish up an entire sentence
I'm not fascinated by anything
Anything, you know?
Tick, tock, clack, click
Click, clack, tock, tick
Can't you make this thing go any faster?
Sensory overload is this fucked up hobby of mine
I'd really like to go into a coma right now
Let's try to sound really nervous when we giggle this time, OK?
Kick in the screen and
Avert the junkie's 2:00 o'clock a.m. eyes
The streets aren't dark, twisted poetry
They're concrete
And yeah, I know I'm probably crazy
Click, clack, clockety, clackety
Clackety, clockety, tickety, tockety
Only so many nights like this anyone can handle
Type a little faster, acid graphics, late night screaming
AM radio
AM radio is humanity's saving grace
Do you believe in UFOs?
I believe in infomercials
Do you believe in Tom Bosely?
Cause I believe in speed....

Too much trouble to lift my head
Too much trouble to avert my eyes
I never thought I'd come this far
So I never thought I'd have this much to lose
Never thought I'd lose this much
Just can't wait to be old and boring....

This was fucking typical
This was fucking juvenile
Ha, I bled caffiene and 4:00am
Hung out for hours waiting for her
Slept, crumpled up and skinny, my hair spiked and fucked up
On the streets - shivered a lot
I had a dream about you under the bridge
With my backpack as a pillow
I wrote you poetry in all night coffee houses
Watching the sun come up
Let's get coffee
Hang out on the rooftops together
Sit in alleys and fuck around together
I'll tell you about
Getting beat up as a kid, living off of glue and cigarettes
and having a mohawk or getting kicked out of school or everytime
I almost killed myself
Alright, alright
This whole fucking world is crazy
It gets kinda hard to justify rationality
Let's create the perfect world together
Children playing in the streets
No more cops or criminals
Or fucked up angry scared teenager eyes
Living up to the fear and isolation they learned to idolize
I guess that didn't happen
But the only people who are really bulletproof
Are the ones who try to get themselves killed
Everyday of their lives
So I'll probably see you
Around sometime

Two people who live a block away
From each other
Who are tow people who'd fall in love
With each other
If they were two people who'd finally
Meet each other
They both walk home from work
And they both get off at the same time
And if they ran into each other it'd be love at first sight
But they've never met or spoken
because they work at different places
And they pass the same spot everyday
But they miss each other by exactly thirty seconds
Because, dammit, they stay on schedule
They're never late - going there or coming back
Their bosses like them
They don't stray
Never take a break on the way or get a good idea
and sit down to think about it or stop and watch something for awhile
Thirty seconds - everyday - right on time
Instead of meeting and falling in love with each other
They'll go home and watch T.V.
And they'll be right on fucking time.....

Next time some drunk redneck
Asks who did my hair
I'm going to insist it was Richard Nixon
Which is rad, since he's already dead.

I talked about people
None of them looked too comfortable
The kid sitting next to me was still scared
He knew he was lying but it hadn't happened yet
The man in front of me was lying, alright
He knew it, but he was trying to fool himself, not me
I guess he considered himself a demon
The woman beside him didn't say anything
She looked out the window for the entire conversation
So I didn't bother to make any guesses
It turned into an argument, but only for a couple seconds
I got the feeling everyone was a little weary
Of making excuses for the truth
I felt sorry for them
Especially the christian

It's 3:00am and my head's still burning
It's 3:00am and I wanna die
It's 3:00am and I need more coffee
It's 3:00am and it's time to shatter

Let me tear a couple of our masks off and nickname you death
I don't wanna go outside for even one more cigarette
I'm way too fucked up to go to school tomorrow
I don't want to turn this flourescent world off anymore
Reality's such a drag
Everything can happen inside my head.....

It's 3:00am and I'm sick of pain
It's 3:00am and the screaming's over
It's 3:00am and there's only static
It's 3:00am and I wanna die

Maybe my hallucinations were just a hallucination. Maybe everyone should
find out what it's like to be pushed over the edge. Junkie's hollow eyes
roll back, up to the synthetic heroin sky, false god. It's time to pray
to me - I'm a happier version of a falser savior. Feel free to crusify
my in you own nervous anger - all you ever learned in school, anyway. Won't
help you much when you tear back that boring veil of the night sky and rise
up to smash those wacky demons of yours once and for all. There they were,
in the corner of your mind. And it sure isn't looking good - man in the
overcoat, under the streetlight, the one with the filterless cigarette and
the slanted red eyes.

I wanna burn
and burn
and burn
and burn

Everything can happen inside my head.....
Then shut the fuck up and do some more over the counter methamphetamines.

Explainations and Everything: Cafe Cianide was something I wrote for the
magazine Talking Dog, that ended up in issue #1. I'd just gotten off the
phone with the person who does the zine, and for some reason had the
intention of making fun of gothic poetry. I'm not too sure if I did a
very good job. Sniffing Glue is about being one of the more rediculous and
self destructive punk rock kids for a year or so of my life. The one with
the really long title (that I don't remember right now) was about being
high on coffee and having really scattered thoughts from it. The title
was the beginning of a note I wrote to my girlfriend at the time, homeless
and alone in Lyon's one night around 4:30am, on the same drug for the
first time in weeks. Stupid Broken Dreams is about the same girlfriend,
afterwards. Tupperware Party With the Nazis (don't know why I gave that
such a silly fucking title) is about being in a car with some relatives
of mine and getting into a conversation about human sexuality and homo-
sexuality and hearing some pretty rediculous, fucked up things. Sane is
about one night I spent, strung out for quite awhile by then on a lot
of different drugs, the very first time I ever thought I might be becoming
legally insane. It wasn't much fun at all. The structure of it might not
make a whole lot of sense because it was originally written as a song for
a techno/industrial/babble band I was doing with my friend Terminal Junkie
called Crusifix of Junk Mail. The rest of these either don't need
explainations or aren't supposed to make much sense, anyway.

That's all. (C)opyThis 1994 StaticHead Systems Productions. In case you
were wondering, that means no-fucking-copyright. These are words, ideas,
and emotions I've put onto paper, rearranged, glorified, and demonized.
I don't own them - they're my reactions to a world everyone experiences.
And most of them are kinda lame, anyway.

????????????????????? PhiShNEt hUb ??????????????????????
??????????????????? thE j0NNY CAt bbS ???????????????????
???????????????? SYS0P: G0VERNMENt ChEESE ???????????????
???????????? StAtiC hEAd SYStEMS CONtACt SitE ???????????
???? PUNk R0Ck, CAffiENE fREAkS, P0litiCS, StUPiditY ????
?????????? E-MAil ChA0S SMURf t0 GEt Ah0ld 0f US ????????
??????????????? ACCESS0RiES S0ld SEPERAtElY ?????????????
????????????????????? 916 272 6737 ????????????????????
??????????????????????? tEXt filES ??????????????????????

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