This, is who I am

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“I am a simple writer, making my way through the mass of talent of this world” Gun Roswell

This, is who I am

I am an extroverted introvert

With the mind of a child locked inside of an ancient body without time

I am the ever and eternal optimistic pessimist

Always looking for the worst, while expecting the best

Searching for some kind of a truth, which I never really hope to find

I am alive and well, well? But also, only living inside my own head

I am a mass of a mess, but with an outlook good no less

The eternal dreamer with a head of a cloud

Surrounded inside of it by a protective shroud

Never wanting to leave that very special place

Even whenever venturing where others may stay

But, I am okay, just the same

Being this odd one out always and everywhere

Unboxed, untethered, but wearing a pretty bow 

Just because, I like to put on a show

And so, coming to the matter of fact (or fiction)

Even if no one can that fact even begin to understand

This, is who I am

Lazy spot for a Sunday

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“There is nothing really much to do on Sunday’s except to find the perfect spot to lay low in for the day, the best kind of stay” Gun Roswell

Lazy spot for a Sunday

The most perfect and softest spot found

And it was certainly not on the hard ground

No, it was a softly cushioned kind of a swing

Which came along with a bell and a ding

That was of course to be able to order service

For whatever kind of desires might rise up

For food or drinks of course, perhaps even 

Entertainment of sorts, such as music or shows

But even without all those things of creature comforts

The simple way of only staying, in quiet laying

Was the perfect way of spending any day

Except usually that was never quite the option

Rather only during these days called Sunday

Was it possible to indulge oneself to lay claim

Of anything personal and not requiring any strain

And so, having found this perfect of the places

There would be nothing on this Earth to remove

This carcass out of the blissful state of non-move

And so, as time passed, even if this moment lasted

Only for the day, there were no regrets whatsoever 

On display

The Black Cat a lurking

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“The cat might be black, and none too friendly at that, then again, neither are most people“ Gun Roswell 

The Black Cat a lurking

There black cat, strolled from behind the shack, seemingly ready to attack, but perhaps not, as it might just have been alerted there on the spot, of something moving about, as this was the black cat’s territory after all, and the lurking was kind of its domain, so, whomever dared to do just the same, well there was going to be trouble, as the black cat really did not like to share, not their feats, nor their place, as it would disturb the balance of things.

And so, the black cat strutted, around the neighbourhood, just like it should, watching, lurking about, making sure, nothing hinky would happen during its watch, as this was the black cat’s spot and when it was on the prowl, no others, Holman or animals alike were allowed, to step inside the territory of the black cat’s ownership, not without a fight or something similar, and that was pretty much it.

Ocean views

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“A room with a view, of an ocean blue, what else can one ask in life?” Gun Roswell

Ocean views

The blues calling from the ocean deep, the soft waves washing a shore, the sandy beach nothing of a bore, with the skies open wide, the sun but a big smile, the warm fresh air, leaving no one in despair, beckoning the weary traveller to take a chance, as long as the days will last, to make their way to the side, where the water meets the sky, the feeling a thought, taking off the very ground and flying ever so high, like some sort of a fancy kind of kite. 

Only this is the dream, even if it all so real seems, eyes wide, looking at what was left behind, on the sandy beach, the body still stands, waiting for the fancy flight to somewhere land, but it seems, that the freedom of it all, lasted way too long, and now, it will never come back again, the idea, the thought, the dream, all gone, lost in the gentle winds over the ocean, the empty vessel remaining on the shores, watching the ocean soar, while the fancy flight of the thought up there in the blue skies will roar. 

Two or four, more is more? Or maybe not?

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“Whatever it is, two is better than one, and then again, if you have two, why not three or more, after all, more is more, right?” Gun Roswell

Two or four, more is more? Or maybe not?

What is it with us and the fact that stuff keeps gathering up, in all the corners of the rooms of our homes, sometimes even chocking the whole office and bedroom, piles upon piles on top of each other, will try us to gently but surely smother?

Well, guess the old adage, less is more, has yet to reach the modern core, as the need for all things new and better, just is in sitting there, set in our current DNA, most likely to stay? Some of us maybe saying what the hey, when in Rome, but yeah, it’s the more that is definitely not the score.

So, if you see a low hanging fruit or berry, possible something like the pictured cherry, why don’t you simply try to settle for just two, and leave the rest there, for others to chew. Maybe it’s not so bad to just get the taste of it, rather than to try to overdo it with too much of the sugary goods? So, are you on board?

The water, the rock, the sunshine

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“The elements of life, well, at least part of them, mostly those used for a great summer’s break“ Gun Roswell

The water, the rock, the sunshine

The spring of life, the cool blue stuff, the liquid so clear, you can see through it, and the best thing of it is, that you can actually drink it, bathe in it and simply, lull yourself to sleep while floating on it, truly the multipurpose tool for any kind of fool in need of some relief from whatever kind of ailment.

The rock, hard as they come, an element, none too fun, but good to be used as another kind of tool, like hammering down a nail or using it to cover up a trail, whatever use basically thought of, even a house built, well, sort of, but also, a great place to sit on, when all other furniture fails.

The sun, shining above, the warmth, the bright rays, the light, all of it combined, what a great surprise, after such a long while of remaining in total darkness, and so, for the duration of a season, perhaps more, the shining sun, sometimes a bore, mostly though, praised by lore, will be the one keeping up the spirits of those seeking its audience.

The rose painted

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“The rose might the thorny, but it’s still quite pretty, and when painted in the colours of many, what is there to complain about?“ Gun Roswell

The rose painted

The rose, with its stem filled with spiky thorns, easily the sensitive skin got torn, with one simple touch, followed by a loud ‘ouch!’ Followed by too much blood, it was too painful to even watch.

Luckily, and aid was found, in the form of an bandaid, which really was nothing to fuss about, even the one whom so loudly did shout, was left embarrassed at best, for doing such a stupid thing in the first place.

A rose, is a gorgeous creature, one created by Mother Nature, not to be touched and fondled, but only from a far admired, and so, thorns or not, the simple message here is; do not touch!

Try another approach, while seated on the porch, perhaps a canvas bring forth, with colours of plenty it is time to start painting, making the memory, of the rose, in a perfect pose, before it will be gone.

Monday Morning and another Cup of Coffee

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“There is always time for coffee, morning, noon, day or night time, it’s all just fine, if you really enjoy the dark liquid kind and to have a cup of it, when you see fit” Gun Roswell

Monday Morning and another Cup of Coffee

There is always room for coffee, in the stomach, someone said, even if it was some other time a clock, usually not associated with the fine sustenance of a dark liquid, but if one was prepared, for the full effect of the stuff, then drinking a cup or two, would suit, no matter the hour, as long as the face did not go sour, simply because the lack of coffee, was ever present, so, better satisfy the urge and have that drink of it, the coffee, in a cup, or a mug or even jug it directly from the pot!

Because believe it or not, those rules and regulations for sleeping and consumables, was most likely created by someone who hated the stuff, both coffee and well, food and perhaps even people, as all of us, are mostly individuals and so, enjoying the good stuff, coffee, does not have to be at any given hour, even midnight will do simply fine.

Rocking on the Chair

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“The rocking chair, lulls anyone seated there, to a deeper kind of sleep, at least if you don’t get seasick along the way!“ Gun Roswell

Rocking on the Chair

The chair from all those past lives lived now being revived 

The chair where from the grandmother would advice give

The chair from the childhood where mothers used to sing songs

The chair which rocked you to sleep all those years ago

The chair with the recognisable creaks against the floors

The chair made out of lasting materials wood, as they used to

The chair worth mentioning in several kind of old lore 

The chair unique enough leaving no one seated never bored

The chair still as cool, sleek and surprising like it was before

The chair, well it keeps on rocking, rocking, rocking away to the groove

The chair where there is really no sleeping in it as it is on the move

The chair never good for cats or really any kind of animals with long tails

The chair was invented by someone who wanted two things to combine

The chair can be found in some homes, at least those whom the past respect

The chair, is a chair, is a chair, so please, do, take a load off

Cat a strutting the streets

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“The cats are the owners of the streets, that much is true, but perhaps also of the very world, cannot be sure” Gun Roswell

Cat a strutting the streets

The big cat on the streets

Won’t need to take a seat

As there really is no time

While making their daily rounds

Taking care of their domain

While comfortably strutting around

This is no ordinary feline either

No, this is the one much smarter

The one who once laid claim

Of this one single place

Making it all their very own

Both the land all around 

Alongside the small town

And so, each and every day

The cat did make its way

All around and through 

The premises as to ensure

Everyone there and the visitors too

Would know the owner was lose

And so showing respect 

For the feline as they detected

The strutting cat on the streets

Making their way without defeat

As this was their domain 

And whatever else remind

Well, the rest of the animal kingdom

Could have their pick of the litter

Pun intended, as there were plenty

Of kittens too this message to be sending

That cats indeed are the rulers

Of the very world as we know it