Hold on a minute, stop, full halt,

And tell yourself it’s all from the vault.

Once in tune, then quickly lose tone,

Voice lock, the tongue becomes stone.


Sails getting winds, but why is the water so shallow,

Where a little storm can just be busting your halo.

Try the escape route but the door no longer works,

and the self-medication no longer buries the framework.


Only way to go is full out, war of revolution,

No philosophy matters Freud to Confucian.

Spoon fed dish that has long since spoiled,

Meanwhile the love, the light it’s foiled.


Still, methods to be sought to be implemented,

Always nights that make me lonely and demented.

Intelligent enough to see the dry land of a new shore,

Thoughts new to trump old and rebuild the core.


Total immersion in the making this flip,

This story is under who’s authorship?

Again comes the eternal backlash, deflector,

While my soul is in my ears, a lesson reflector.

Thomas Spychalski

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