Alarms of the Alone

April 3, 2020

Everyone only needs a light when night comes,
Truth of truths, it’s in the D.N.A., what am I?
Isolate easy but others only percolate when their sky falls their rain cries.

Nobody wants to and even fewer still ever tried,
Danger of talking, internal circles, dusty fingertips,
Lesson learned but never heard to change the melody, expectations die, scales flip.
Chaos surrounds but tell me something new,
Old habits, new damages added, thinner, stripped to the bone,
These words squirm in a life long agony unraveled, the silent alarm of the alone.

Thomas Spychalski

Just Past Sunset

March 25, 2020

Just past sunset, another day lowers with the sun,
Hey there, how’s it going, are we missing anyone?
All we can do is stand here and be gratefully aware of one more night with our shining stars,
Realize this separation is a love of one another, these are caring boundaries, not bars.

One more night of worry,
One more cross to bear,
One to ponder answers…hurry!
The solution is already there.

Just past sunset, but that star will head East and rise again,
Hey come on now, those lights will cling close once now hits then,
We can all sing apart together and then pull us closer still,
Send out those brave and amorous healing waves,
We must all stand till first light, our souls are resolute, our aspect brave.
Thomas Spychalski


Where And Were

February 13, 2020

Things you’re not allowed to experience or express,
Moments and days locked up alone times of strain and stress.

Why does this universe tease me, that there is something beyond misery and pain,
Shelter me and set me afire only to toss me right back out in the rain.

Pressure on because of all life throws at me, try to cop with it with nowhere for me to call home,
All I get are memories and broken down dreams and promises now part of history’s tome.

Not sure why it’s gotta be so lonely out here in the dark, why we have to cry behind shades,
Or why illusions and ghosts of what I can never have and spells unbroken never to be paid.

‘Why’ does not cover all on this lonely night I wish I did not have to try and survive,
What is better asked, what’s the point of being here in a world with no love, without sweet moments inside the chaos that make us feel alive?
– Thomas Spychalski


Aftershock

February 11, 2020

We forget when there is nothing left to light fires but lies as the truth will only harm,
Moving forward when we can only recall the selfish genes in your faith, replacing charm.

Settling back I guess instead of the desire to finally settle down partnering in more,
Aftershock over from my loss of faith in what I’ll wear evermore on my sleeve like a monogamous white.

Ten-nineteen still shows everywhere this nonsensical line I cannot deny comes from outside,
Message of me and missions, I’m not over but I have to wait for a faithful heart, swallow bruised pride.

Tests were given and magnetic harmony turned to dissident was played to see the burning glow,
However when wills in others weaken and they are preordained to one sided thinking that is when we unlearn beautiful pain we thought we would know.
– Thomas Spychalski


High Wall

February 6, 2020

Can anybody love or cut me,
I find they just interchange.
Anything to make me feel,
Any damn role, your stage.

Walls rise up bombarded again,
Defense not needed but I’m tired.
Worst part of dreaming is waking,
sound of the gun which she fired.

What the hell am I, not much to tell,
When you can never get them to stay.
Special, awe you, amazing, and loved,
Then why am I ‘here’ and why do I still feel this way?
-Thomas Spychalski


Stale Smoke

January 31, 2020

I found one of her stale cigarettes, and without a sense of etiquette, smoked it right down to the bone.The stale taste and firey smoke, just like what you made me toke, when you wrenched out my faith, with no path to atone.Fresh snow covers again the paths we took, while rushing and removing the hooks, that I’m not even sure were real.Obviously, I love too deep, too much, and all the other such and such, and although I still think of the passion I still feel on my back the tread marks from your wheels.
-Thomas Spychalski


Last Light On A Winter’s Night

January 23, 2020

I saw the purple and white move and flow as you wrote once awaiting my coming to you,
There is a knife at my throat in longing for a feeling I think I see in those streams and lines.
Last light on a Winter’s night, now is vacant what had been such a sight.

Why do I wander here, old ice on the ground, hazard, and freezing thoughts of zero degrees,
Ghosts of Winter I say, post solstice when days elongate and light stays,
Damn the imparting, freeze it, depart, missing what I believed was in my hands I have made into an art.

Here we are again to worship at her icy altar like a servant to a cruel master,
Exposure means we cannot be put here all the rest of the season every night,
Silence of ‘her’ screams telling, evading those false dreams, leaving time to sort out that which is not what it seems.
-Thomas Spychalski


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