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 Nov 2021
Tom Lewczyk
I get these sudden urges.
(urges, urges, urges, urges)
To go howling at the moon.
(at the moon, at the moon)
This tendency emerges.
(merges, merges, merges, merges)
Feel it comin’ very soon.
(very soon, very soon)

My body structure changes.
(changes, changes, changes, changes)
Bushy hair sprouts from my face.
(from my face, from my face)
My whole being rearranges.
(ranges, ranges, ranges, ranges)
My teeth, deadly fangs replace
(fangs replace, fangs replace)

I gobble up small children.
(children, children, children, children)
Leave adults a ****** mess.
(****** mess, ****** mess)
My habits are bewild’rin’.
(wildrin, wildrin, wildrin, wildrin)
My actions they can’t guess.
(they can’t guess, they can’t guess)

I live as one of you do.
(you do, you do, you do, you do)
‘Til the full moon starts to rise.
(starts to rise, starts to rise)
Then I venture forth to get you.
(hunt you, find you, rend you, **** you)
I may take you by surprise.
(by surprise, by surprise)
An older, silly poem. Seems appropriate to publish on Halloween.
 Jul 2021
Tom Lewczyk
Came a badger name of Tyler
be a-knockin’ at the door.
Sellin’ brushes from the marshes
he be scrubbin’ on the floor.

Dumps a bushel full of garbage
to be showin’ how they work.
Bendin’ over pail of water
he be scrubbin’ until dark.

He be done in half a minute
he be sayin’ as he goes.
I can tell he be a-lyin’
by the growin’ of his nose.

Comes the Missus from the kitchen
seein’ badger, brush, and pail,
Garbage soakin’ into carpet
she can’t help but start to wail.

Grabs the shotgun from the closet,
shoots the badger in the head.
Takes the body to the kitchen…
Badger soup and homemade bread.
Very old. Very silly.
 Dec 2016
Tom Lewczyk
Mania
I love the world
The sky so blue above my head
The colors of the splendrous dawn
To live is fun
I’m happy as a man could be

Depression
The world is dead
My life’s a mess, I can’t go on
I want to die
I think I’ll go and get a gun
To take my life away from me

Splice of the Manic-Depressive*
I love the world
The world is dead
The sky so blue above my head

My life’s a mess, I can’t go on
The colors of the splendrous dawn

I want to die
To live is fun
I think I’ll go and get a gun

I’m happy as a man can be
To take my life away from me
I hope this doesn't offend anyone -- I'm not trying to belittle bipolar disorder. (My readership is so small, I'm likely safe.) This is simply a word-play poem that I wrote decades ago. I'm going to start posting select older poems, most of which are somewhat crude and irreverent.

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