Forgivness, Pride, and Other Jesters

November 21, 2017


Ain’t it a shame when shit just goes this way,

Something was torn, something fractured, something burnt badly.

Things you must fight for, but you will pay,

One thing Trusted, two things abused, three things madly.

 

I want that forgiveness however it comes,

Because in the end, it’s always the ones,

That save your life,

It’s always the ones,

That you kiss and kill twice.

That means the most, deep in longing,

That is the muse of the songs,

Still, however, we now gotta have standards of action,

Petty souls and thoughtless distractions,

Not ashamed of my words of action,

But rather how I decided to be bold,

Yeah, this shit gets old,

Just sorry for the way my truth to how I felt was told.

Ain’t it a twisted old bitch when gold tarnishes,

Mined it out, sold it off, bought the lot.

Pride is the devil in the center of us all,

Maps burned, treasures yearned, ‘X’ stirs the pot.

Thomas Spychalski 

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Thousand Year Field of Battle

November 21, 2017

Gaze to the East to see a new sun,
When it ends, it is time to shun.
Yet clocks tick on thoughtlessly,
Any new portraits of progress that you can see?

Greed and oppression still wear the crowns,
War for peace, petticoats for dressing gowns.
Measure progression in technological grace,
Still, here we are you have to hide your real face.

They sell you dreams of Tomorrow-Land,
And bite the ones that feed the lust open hand.
Are you busted nothing has shifted,
All become numb except the insane and the gifted.

Rising up, time for the field of the freak-show battle,
We are sainted souls dressed in black, not your slaughterhouse cattle.
You can drag me on the rocks of painted out misery,
At the end of the thousand years gap, just repeated history.

Thomas Spychalski


Yo-Yo Act

November 20, 2017


Throw it down and return,

Watch as it spins.

Fire beneath it burns,

Weapons of twins.

I know you think I am just the confusing cat’s cradle,

Sometimes I feel with me, they are just walking the dog.

Around the world with you, but the return so unstable,

New day, rewound string but everyone stays in the past’s fog.

It goes up as it goes down,

Slave of momentum and gravity.

Getting dizzy, from the lost and found,

Plus all this undone alchemy.

Thomas Spychalski 

 


‘Spider Bites’ Fan Art

November 19, 2017

A reader and someone I chat with produced some artwork a while back for the short story Spider Bites and wanted me to share it with all of you, so here it is:

If you have not read the short story Spider Bites yet, please click here and don’t forget to tell me what you think.

 


Nails and Crosses

November 18, 2017

I recall the day when my father said get back here to the count of ten,

counted faster for him, told him to come and get me then.

I know there were consequences and pain from the act,

Despite the crashes after, it broke that old broken pact.

 

 

You’re waiting on me, my friend,

Well, I’ve been waiting too.

For you to see the only way the stalemate ends,

To use the claw end of her hammer, it’s due.

Pull the nails out of your cross, nail her to yours,

Control, scream and let her know, show her what she adores.

 

 

Maybe if you followed what I am stating,

It’s me you’d end up just plain hating.

Because there is danger at the bottom, cold as ice,

For gods to move on, we need a sacrifice.

 

I am calm here, in the crater of the ordinance thrown,

To me, it’s not the acts you do but the acts you own.

Don’t you see how far her thirst grasp extends,

Keeping you in the tower, bashing dead your trends.

 

 

Can’t you see that is the broken bottle,

That cuts that beautiful mind.

Can’t you hear it’s her words and screaming,

That rips apart this fantasy world of which you keep dreaming.

 

 

You’re waiting on me, my friend,

Well, I’ve been waiting too.

For you to see the only way the stalemate ends,

To use the claw end of her hammer, it’s due.

Pull the nails out of your cross, nail her to yours,

Control, scream and let go, show her what she adores.

 

 

Maybe I’m still crazy, maybe I am out of order,

Still running for my own gate, running from the border.

Hanging on those nails I know can feel so rusty and sharp,

Get out from under, show your broken beauty under the tarps.

 

 

You’re waiting on me, my friend,

Well, I’ve been waiting too.

For you to see the only way the stalemate ends,

To use the claw end of her hammer, it’s due.

Pull the nails out of your cross, nail her to yours,

Control, we all have teeth, show her what she adores.

Thomas Spychalski 

 

 


Toothless Grin

November 18, 2017

Been here before, regret and the after sadness dust after the bomb,

Thinking like life is a movie, stupid senseless indirect rom-com.

Much harder out in the wilderness I inhabit away from the crowds,

I cannot help myself, I don’t want my blades, so to get it out a scream so loud.

 

In the end, I wear a toothless grin,

Is it the suffrage or is the passive my sin?

Take a hit, yeah I give them out too,

Not sure who’s right me or one of you.

Whether I hide my claws,

or have others take them out,

It’s a flaw,

Inside the beast of ‘do’ screams and shouts.

 

Maybe I could say it better,

But words become lost in grace and society.

Finally free but I need my rain so much wetter,

How can I be the storm, the one they said I was to be?

 

Always playing the savior, when saviors are full of lies,

They hide behind glad handling pleasantries.

I am not a thief, a rouge, nor do I spy,

Just a man has been lost, huge heart, rugged shell, I know the answers to things you label mysteries.

Thomas Spychalski 


The Egotistical Tea Party

November 17, 2017

Take a seat right there, let me pour you a cup full of brine,

Might be too strong, but hey it’s better than the constant wine.

If you wait awhile, someone will be by with the biscuits,

Might tell a truth, also might tell a lie if you can risk it.

 

I’m afraid the guests at the mad tea party are the only that exist for real,

Try to comprehend the puzzles of people, but in the end, I just get what I steal.

Everyone calls me out…

Like they never had a doubt.

They all chant my name when the cup breaks.

Everyone hands me around…

When they are feeling down.

Guess I can never outlive those old mistakes.

This is the egotistical tea party,

Come on in and join in song,

Sing with me freely,

If you feel you don’t belong.

 

There is room here for everyone,

Or at least another face.

No one ever attends my parties,

Just around me, they do a trace.

Thomas Spychalski 

 

 


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