Errant Fictions

December 9, 2018

Gather up the dust,
Locations long lost.
Stitch them together,
The dolls long have torn we are.

Hear cries in the night,
Spoken words buried.
Clawing out a purchase,
Dig up the grave with a mind to rob.

Spinning stories of errant impulses,
Made with prayers from tooth and claw.
Eyes want to shut out those sermons,
That only served to burn our surroundings.
Thomas Spychalski 

Advertisements

Dim

December 4, 2018

It hurts to burn brightly,
Even more so if you feel so dim.
It shames to cut nightly,
The brain thinks salvation is a sin.

It tells secrets born of lie,
Swallow whole the medicine.
Its memories cast the dye,
You’re your own spied specimen.

Lights out, the stage goes dim,
Next act upcoming,
Let the show begin.
Steel heart’s stout, sad hymn,
Voices in a chorus,
Acting is so genuine.
Thomas Spychalski


Pointless

December 1, 2018

Slipping in and out of mindsets,
No rest with a lion in your head.
Clocks fool me then kill me dead,
But is it out of pure kindness?

Circle, circle paint the way to go,
Breathing seems like such a chore.
No open windows just closed doors,
What is a river with no flow?

Even the simple things you take for granted,
Seem for me so impossible, yet so enchanted,
No water or sun so just forget those seeds planted,
Pointless living from prayers not yet quite chanted.
Thomas Spychalski 


Days

November 25, 2018

No today without tomorrow,
No tomorrow without today.
Winds and sins gather round,
Change to return the same way.

No gain without the grind,
No grind if there is no gain.
Sentences crumble, ‘pardon,’
I’m drowning in drying rain.

Days pass, nights fade,
Scars show pain parades.
Make a nest in falling dates,
Charming cycles, twisting fates.

No love it seems without hate,
No hate it seems without love.
Hearts lock, shields upraised,
No reports of here or thereof.

No peace without war,
No war without peace.
Years lost in old conflicts,
Yet we pray for release.

Days pass, nights fade,
Scars show pain parades.
Make a nest in falling dates,
Charming cycles, twisting fates.
Thomas Spychalski


Shackles and Brains

November 19, 2018

One thought to remember,
One thought to forget.
One bullet in the chamber,
One shot, two to regret.

Hearts screaming in bondage,
What’s with the shackles and brains?
Outside the calm in the carnage,
Effigy of knowledge for faith, yet we refrain.

Two ways to take the fork,
Two paths to stumble down.
Two directions of applied torque,
Two colors, same torn gown.

Eyes ever seeing in blindness,
What’s with the shackles and brains?
Moonlight illuminates  the thoughtless,
So why does it only seem to wane?

Three questions without simple answers,
Three riddles engraved in so tight and true.
Three sirens: seductive, evasive, nimble dancers,
Three lessons we’ve long since outgrew.

Hands reaching out for solace,
What’s with the shackles and brains?
Caught in a state of this polus,
Sticks and spurs, still taking the strain.
Thomas Spychalski 


Locks

October 7, 2018

If there was a place of leaving,
Just any way out of here will do,
It makes the pain lose it’s meaning,
The only oracle I have to cling to.

Wretched circle, leave me be,
Take your kit and walk away.
But I am you as you are me,
Which is why you always stay.

Apparition in the truest sense,
Dead and haunting is all you are.
Yet twisted logic comes to defense,
Hence you being my seeing star.

I hate you for making me love you,
An addiction these thoughts feed.
Same scenes, joys are ever few,
So you must give me what I need.

Mouse in the wheel going round again,
No cage needed we have experience.
Even stone moves now and then.
Then you make your reappearance.
Thomas Spychalski 


Same Old, Same Old

September 28, 2018

I have been singing this song through decades,
So long that I have lost my voice.
Turning pain and anger into a blockade,
Until we eliminate the will to make a choice.

So sick of the curse, still can’t break the spell,
Chanting mantras of the already dead.
Mother Nature dear, this is hell,
This book has already been read.

Trying to move,
Wrapped in stone.
Trying to prove,
I can achieve, atone.

Trying to speak,
For once to be bold.
But there is no new peak,
Just the same old.

I have worn this expression forever,
So long I don’t know how I look.
Although no one changes my good soul, ever,
I cannot seem to remove the hook.

So disgusted by what I read in people’s eyes,
To where I no longer want to see.
Want to shed this never wanted disguise,
Have no idea how to set myself free.

Trying to move,
Wrapped in stone.
Trying to prove,
I can achieve, atone.

Trying to speak,
For once to be bold.
But there is no new peak,
Just the same old.
Thomas Spychalski 


%d bloggers like this: