You Surround Me

December 12, 2019

You are all around me,
You’re with me still.

You are in every picture,
You are in every frame.
Fruit of the spirit of love.

Your scent bathes me,
It’s fragrance my call.

It lies in the bed we made,
It lives in the dreams we prayed,
Healing lights for hire.

Your vision imprints my heart,
I see your green eyes in every light.

I see you around the places we stood,
Holding you while I know that I could,
To hold you tighter on the next cycle.
Thomas Spychalski 


December 11, 2019

Both born of the fire,
Coming back with grace.
She comes over the wire,
A signal that can never be replaced.

I feel her coming and going,
Right inside my head.
She and I are filled with knowing,
My books she has surely read.

I am not ashamed of admitting need,
Or the air I need to breathe.
I will never fear falling nor speed,
When there is so much to believe.

Hear me call and hear me now,
that voice I shall purposely use.
When another is just the ‘how,’
And love is a beautiful fire I shall not lose.
Thomas Spychalski

Beautifully Broken

November 22, 2019

There is only one place you belong,
It’s in my heart to keep it beating strong.
And only one little wrinkle on our skins,
Don’t let me forget the tastes of heaven you let in.

Just tell me we can be beautifully broken,
Too old for games or being soft-spoken.
Just tell me we are just beautifully broken,
Long as we don’t turn away, keep ourselves open.

Only one storybook you belong to it is mine,
Let me get drunk on your sweet wine.
Only one place I ever could be this true,
Buried so deep down inside of you.

Just tell me we’ll just be beautifully broken,
Too old for games and being softspoken.
Just stay with me and please keep these doors open,
You are the deepest water that washes us into loves ocean.
-Thomas Spychalski

Naturally Dancing

November 7, 2019

Naturally, she came in through frayed wires,
Delectable mind and a new heart from stone.
Haphazardly I could not resist but to join her,
Varied fairy tales read in the exact same tone.

Hypnotically intoxicating this happy little madness,
Where none can touch anything does not belong.
The feeling here under waves of broken history,
Know even if our voices crack we will hear the song.

Perfectly it came on like a storm without a warning,
Rain washing away what all the coarse never could.
Methods used are those of a kindred polarity risen,
Two souls hearing silent sounds, never misunderstood.

Pragmatically there will be those with no true senses,
Asking queries that will never be able to hear a reply.
Sensibility is a word for those afraid of locked doors.
Or those unable to hear a natural matches sweet cry.
Thomas Spychalski

My Favorite Whore

October 15, 2019

Time ticks in my face,
Flags waved end of the race,
The damage would you like a taste?
All these things I try to cut but never paste.

I’ve been dead so many times before,
Not sure if there is tomorrow anymore,
Devils kick and beat around my doors,
My pain has become my favorite whore.

Days fly without sun,
Games played never won,
Shades of greatness but so overdone,
Alone here always even when I see I see no one.

But I’ve been dead so many times before,
So much now the whole thing does just bore,
With eyes red with past sight, my wings tore,
My misery has become my favorite chore.
Thomas Spychalski


October 1, 2019

Strings along the roadway,
Passion or direction denied.
Try to make a decent play,
Rules we cannot confide.

Beating hearts see more than eyes,
Lead the way out and right through.
Confusion at what you threw at the sky,
Can we say when this date is due?

Strings that tie and bind blindly,
Can you now dare to tell the truth?
Stringing along, although I love the song,
Courage in admitting this may belong.

Tie us up in lovely collusion,
I saw you like it too,
But you speak like me in riddles,
What am I to do with you?

Smacked by the heavy-handed feelings,
Somehow something seemed right.
But you mute us before the ceilings,
Even when you tell my name goodnight.

You called me out so many times now,
But you never do answer timely to mine.
I’ll let you take the gilded stage and bow,
How is it that facing up to it is a crime?

Strings that tie and bind blindly,
Can we now laugh and share the truth?
Stringing along, although I love your song,
What can we say we knew?

Strings that tie seem unbroken,
Never mind the passing of time.
Do you realize I call you in the night before you turned up right,
But what am I to do with you?
Thomas Spychalski

Magnets On Mute

September 30, 2019

You chase me around the set pieces when your missing,
But you have to run when you are all front and center.
Banish you to the back when you jump out the seat,
Isn’t it time for better directions, take the wheel?

Confusion sets in, when mutual justification goes astray,
I tell you thoughts you could never buy into in bulk.
While you make me feel there is light in this dark,
No one speaks out of code, translation denied.

So here we are the third time around truth never spoken,
Unsure if there are ever really easily done answers,
Out here in a world of sheep dressed like wolves,
But shepherds can only herd what is known.

I can go full nuclear confession, probably what I’ll do,
Because I love when you come knocking on my door,
Truth be told doors that stay locked never open,
And criminals only see what they steal.

Chopped in half, come clean or banish it all deep down,
Desperately don’t wanna lose that energy that flowed,
Between two sun-shaped receptors lacking pieces,
Desiring more but don’t wanna lose the feel.

A thousand cheers and two million riddles sussed out,
Where do you go when little bits of happiness leave?
I’ll let you chase and retreat over and over again,
Be it I’m a fool or someone who sees something that could be right.

Carpe Diem to you.
Thomas Spychalski 

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