Second Hand Prayer

January 29, 2017

10329669_748016928552758_1804625525937412375_oThe mind is like a clock, ticking ever on, by the time you turn to face it, that second is already gone.

Wistful thinking in blue draped satin feelings of grace, tick-tock, on and on we drop to the resting place.

Born of fire and cooled by the world of temperance and temptation, we inward march, with or without invitation.

Secrets are never secret, we all can see the truth of the matter, yet when our backs are weak with weight, the rest can shatter.

Only by walking on the bed of nails can we ever find the path that leads to the garden, but the road has not always been kind, excuse me, beg please now my pardon.

Let me in I have been knocking as the clock ticks forever more, or at least can someone point me to the light that illuminates the way to my door…

Thomas Spychalski


The Man With the Straw Heart

January 7, 2016

163628_184781778209612_7680246_nThere once was a man with a straw heart who loved the people around him more then he could fathom and certainly more then he wanted to most of the time.

He saw their attachment to the material world, saw how they cared more for personal gain and trinkets then the people around them and although it filled him with fire, fire enough to burn his straw heart for only a moment at a time, and then he forgave them.

The man watched as love and friendship were tossed aside on arbitrary conditions of survival no longer needed, saw them cling to damp perverted animal skins like the caveman clung to the torch to scare away the night and sighed.

For him his love of the world was a mystery; to him the world was cold as ice, no one wanted to know him, no one could get close to the toxic strands that fell from his straw heart, weeping like a wound.

In reality this was only his love of all around him pushing the infection out, cleansing it and protecting the gift he had, which was the gift ever boy receives but a ‘man’ soon forgets.

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Short Fiction: The Perfect Crime

August 10, 2015

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This was originally inspired by a writing Prompt from Reddit.

Enjoy and please let me know what you think of it in the comment section:

“No good will come of this you know”

“I know…”

The couple stood over the dead body, staring down at the lifeless form at their feet. The Body was still fresh, the eyes open and accusing, the hollow stare that will one day happen to all of us when the soul vacates it’s shell.

“So what do we do now?” She asked.

“I guess we bury it, try to make sure she does not see it before she gets up.”

She looked at her watch, then up at the bedroom window on the second floor of the house.

“That only gives us a couple hours…”

“Then we better work quickly then.”

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Southwest News Hearld Poetry

February 15, 2013

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Way back in the early to mid 90’s, I sent in about six or so submissions to the Southwest News-Hearld‘s poetry section Thoughts In Verse.

Although the poetry here is not the best in the world and I am pretty sure the editorial standards for choosing which poetry got published was no more complicated then making sure the same poet did not run in subsequent issues, it was the first thing I ever wrote with the intention of making it public.

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Year Of The Dolphin

January 11, 2013

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It has been one year since I started to write my Fish Out of Water column for the Dolphin Talk Paper out of Seadrift, Texas.

So for the upcoming column I wrote about how it felt to be kind of thrown into the fire of reporting right around this time last year.

Here is a little preview of the column:

“It was a cloudy day that threatened to drop rain out of the sky, and little drops could be seen on the folding chairs lined up in the middle of Main Street, which was blocked off to vehicle traffic for the dedication.

I had spent the day before at Wal-Mart of all places, trying desperately to find a shirt that looked professional. I was not out of my depth, but I was definitely about to take on another aspect of the craft of writing, head on.

As I approached the building, I saw the little white cat decoration on the front of the Johnstone Building, which I took as a good omen as for a guy I am a total cat nut(seriously, I have statues).”

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“Recently I was talking to a friend I have known for years who is a visual artist. We were chatting about the kind of things people probably think artsy people talk about when eventually we touched on how some people can turn their talent into power trips. I quickly related this to how I felt about reporting for the paper. Although it was fun to be able to walk up to people and interview them and arrange and take photos to appear alongside the text, it was never a power trip to be able to do so. Rather it was one of the best feelings in the universe, to be doing what you loved and being respected for it to boot. To a man who at times in his past thought he would never be able to get anything out there due to a past of troubles, it was like a dream.

So I enjoyed every little problem, every little odd quote that you had to fit in to have a news piece but you had no idea how, every deadline looming (tomorrow) and every opportunity to make each article and column my own, to try and find a voice that would hopefully hold reader’s interest, as well as entertain and inform.”

I will try and remember to place a URL in this spot to the rest of the column once it is published.


AW Blog Chain July: Independence and Slavery

August 1, 2012

This was supposed to be part of Absolute Write’s July Blog Chain, which had the prompt, Independence and Slavery.

However, I messed it up, kind of forgot about it and then still wanted to at least show there was something there, even it was written in about two hours.

Following my post is links to the other entries for July…

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Stan & His Wife:

Stan could not believe it.

There they were, arguing out in public like they usually would do after a few drinks, middle of the night on another rainy Saturday, one where the streetlights made the rain puddles in the parking lot seem like small lakes made of liquid silver.

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