Perfect Flaws

By Tim Segrest

I have given much thought into what this book is about, but have failed to come up with a answer that I, personally, find fitting. Poetry, in itself, is an expression of how people feel or see a related topic or thought, which is usually never exactly like how another might view the same situation. I started these poems when I was going through a hard time in my life, both within the military and persoanlly. The orders I was forced to carry out in the service didn't help either. So, there are other than just war poems in this book. I guess this book is about something and nothing at the same time. Its about all of us and how we see different phases in out lives. I merely have chosen to write about them, hoping I could help others along the way in some manner. After all, it did help me.

Tim Segrest

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 2, 2006
• ISBN: 9781456727307

Tim Segrest

Tim Segrest is 44 years old and grew up spending alot of time at the beach in California.  He joined the military in 1983 and retired in 2004 as a disabled veteran, and  was diagnosed with Degenerative Spine Disease in 1997.  Tim currently resides in New Mexico with his lovely wife.  The author can't say why who he is validates his writing these poems, sorry—you'll have to answer that on your own.

Book preview

Contents

The Beginning

Emotions Spoken

Shocking News

Poetry for Therapy

Audience?

Apology Not Needed

Flying Dove

Comedians are Funny

Dreams of Death

Morbid Reasoning

Angel Heart

Rumors

Answers

Thoughts

Unable to Sleep

Emotional Death

Seven Days Left

Ears of Echo

Death Hovers Near

Emotion by Emotion

Maggie Mae

Dancers in Motion

Sanity Obscured

Tattoos

Books

Unable to Control

Devils Gate

Death is Knocking

Crying Children in My Sleep

When I Feel the Worst

Uncaring World

The Human Parade

Hurtful Ways

Mind of an Upset Man

These Graves of Death

Music Music Music

Givers and Takers

Unanswerable Questions

Noisy Spirits

Peace and Silence

Walls of the Mind

I Choose to Live

Strength in Us All

Feeders of Life

Evil Magic

That’s a Fact Jack

Soldier or Assassin

Is Silence Golden?

Comfortable Pain?

Series of Short War Poems

First Day of School

The Nothing

Spiritual Creation

Masonry Life

E=MC(2)

I Am Loving

Returning Demons

Snake Rattle

Memories

Pagan Christian

Painful Days

Dark Shrouds

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Soldiers

Savagery Unquestionable

Unwanted Children

Better for Me

Social Suicide

Ooops-Here I Go Again

Take Your Pick

Open Wounds

Forgotten Ones

Tired of People

The Beast of Internal Fire

Prayer to Die

No Title

Feb.11.2006

Observations of Society

Not Ready

In the Cellar

Deserving Qualities

Past Words

Split Decisions

Random

Teri, I Can Almost See

Mind’s Eyes

Be the Pre….

The Simplicity of Love

Logically?

Soul of Man/Murderer

Gate to Vulgarity

Flawed Perfections

I Know I Should

Emotions Spoken

Dedicated to vaterans and their families everywhere, never give up the fight.

The Beginning

I invite you into this journey

I invite you into my mind

In your mind

Where dwells the darkness and sins of man

Do not be afraid…….they are owned by all

Nature’s way of balance adjusted by cause

Caused by memories…thought……and dreams

Time molds men and can mend a mind

Does not mean you’re bad, cruel, or unkind

Come see my minds sweet loving paradise

Come see my minds fucked repressed darkness

So please, imagine the fucked up world I see

You do not have to stay, maybe just a visit

A visit to my hell

My nightmares

Fucked up reality

Thanks….Good Ole Uncle Sam

For this unforgiving reality

AND IF YOU DARE TO TAKE THIS JOURNEY

YOU WILL SEE THAT YOU ARE VERY DESERVING

Emotions Spoken

Why did you kill?      Why did you shot?

my name was Hilda, and I wasn’t sixteen yet

What did I do to lose my virginity and freedom?

I enjoyed the rain and the warmth of a winter fire

Why did I have to Feel that cold steel Bullet

enter my skull?   my brain went Null

strangely, I saw you    for a brief second

your soul, troubled      You did not like this

I will never hear the crackling of damp wood

as it burns    I had so much to give

Did you even bother, to make this right?

I can’t give my name it angers me

I don’t like my demon to have a face

suffer I should Ignorance is true bliss

I’ve tried but I cannot forgive myself

you were innocent, a mere young child

This moment I would gladly except the bullet

Be happy you are dead free of physical pain

I, sometimes feel like the living dead

Usually sane But I’ve cried enough

Tasted the salt, My soul weeping

seeking, praying for Gods Love

Yes I saw you too I pulled the trigger

Killed you I didn’t know what else to do

THIS IS GOD!! The both of you be quiet. Tim, Stop dying and start living. Hilda, leave him alone and sit yourself by my side. We’ll watch a movie. I love the three stooges.

Shocking News

To shock the listener is what some poets try to do

They make up ghost, goblins, and ghouls

My story goes far beyond this concept of unreality

My story describes real acts of human bestiality

They come from homes young that are full of love

But war greets them with an uneasy cruel shove

They learn quickly how to shot and, with hatred, to fight

And, without emotion, take many human lives

You might sit in your chair and think this deed is so easily done

You might be so ignorant to say it would be fun

Like to put it to the test? Do you think you are strong enough?

Take a minute, look to the right and then look to the left

Are these people strangers, friends, or perhaps your family?

Could you watch them bleed and take their life so happily?

Enemies of war are really the same to you and me

Enemies only by how they talk, dress, or desire to be

Imagine when you been in a crowd full of complete strangers

But then you are warned they are all a national danger

Your order is to kill but not told why or for what reason

But when flesh is cut or blown apart it still bleeds

If you’re lucky, you’ll be able to kill them from afar

If not, you look into their eyes, receive your mental scar

Shortly your mind will fill with bloody body parts visions of war

Headless and bloody torsos and limbs scattered on the floor

You hear then gargle, gasping for air, with their blood as you pass

Some are from throats you have just uncaringly slashed

Burned bodies of rotten flesh lay on the ground you call bed

Accompanied by pools of fresh blood and screams in your head

If this isn’t enough to complete this not so pleasant reoccurring dream

You see fresh blood on your blade and hands as it gleams

You discover blood looks so black in the moonlights shaded lands

You feel the warmth of your murdered victim’s blood on your hands

Still warm enough so you can almost feel the pulse still heaving

Because your thirst for blood, this world they are leaving

You learn it takes only one deep slice to destroy men, where they are

But seeing his organs fall out seems insanely not going too far

Do you think your destruction is limited to the war on men?

Oh no, innocent children, pregnant woman also do not win

Dismembered children, burned babies scattered are among the dead

Your children’s dead bodies showed in your damaged head

Not in well made coffins surrounded by family and beautiful flowers

But in the mud, blood, severed limbs, agonly dying for hours

Daily we wash our hands and face to be so clean and free of stain

Stained red bloody hands, how we can say another’s to blame

I talk about blood,