“It’s 4:58 on Friday afternoon. Do you know where your margarita is?”
― Amy Neftzger
Fabulous Friday
Happy Friday
To One and All!
If I will
Have my way
You will all
Have a ball!
That’s all
For now at least
Go, have a feast
It’s Friday after all!
“When the haters united of the world, attack, there is only one thing you can do, and that is, to simply, clapback!” Gun Roswell (as stolen from the gorgeous RuPaul)
Clapback!
Honest, I was truly, trying, so hard, to keep it all in
But, deep, deep down, from the within
I could feel it, surely, but so slowly, starting
And then, I knew I was so close, to snap and to
Clapback!
The voice, from the inside are letting
Me know, without uncertainty, that they were begging
For me to finally react, without forever fretting
Alas, now, all, I from now on, want to do is to
Clapback!
I am in such, an inner turmoil
My guts and even my throat, about to boil
If I forever try to keep, this churning, of a roil
Without, a quick and snap release for a
Clapback!
I know, I know, that I, was supposed to be
That cool kind of nice gal, you always see
In the adverts of all the big movie screens
But, I am really not, so just stop and let me
Clapback!
As my mind, has totally broken free
I can now clearly, all those “things” see
And without any hesitation or urge to feel
That there is something holding me back for a
Clapback!
I just want to constantly, scream and shout
What this, all of this frustration, was all about
For all you self designated haters always so loud
As this time, I will not stay silent, and just have to
Clapback!
“When the traveller is weary, she takes a seat wherever she can manage” Gun Roswell
Blue seating, in a far away land
The long time and now weary, traveller, had finally made it through
To this, far away and strange land filled with all things cool…
Well, at least, imagined the place, from the recesses of the mind
What ever was there, a faint memory even, at this point, was just fine
Because, as it mostly is done these days, all around the world
In reality, the only place you could totally off to get hurled
Would be that odd space, between your own sofa and the fridge
Never mind, going outside and crossing over, say, a tall bridge!
But, as usual, I tend to digress, so without further stress
Back to the topic of travelling, especially one done, in an armchair
In the comfort, of your own small or it might even big, lair
The images of beaches running on end, with blue skies and sun shines
Where each and every single day, life running, to its own accord
Never mind, that while, in a foreign land, for you, no chores!
Well, that is, since usually time away spent, is supposed to be some kind of holiday
When one actually, and physically, goes away and, in another and most likely rented home stays
But, enough of the commentary, as this poem is not going so greatly
As it was supposed to be about seating and travelling and going somewhere else, maybe eating
In a restaurant of choosing, yourself completely in the exotic foods emerging
And for that, picking up a respite, like a bench or a chair or similar seating
Then letting someone else do the serving and finally, after a moment, relaxing
Because hey, you just got out here, in this great place, where time stands still
So, for now, the virtual traveller has stopped, in her tracks, taking a breath deep
And finally letting out some of the slack on the chosen, blue and cool looking respite
“When travelling, in your mind, why not travel as far as possible, to the unknown places of the alien vistas?” Gun Roswell
Alien vistas, revisited (at least, in my mind)
Once again, I am slowly, but surely, falling into, a deep, deep slumber
And it is really not because, I am tired and want to go to sleep either
Rather doing my thing, and once again travelling, within my minds frame
Only this time, rather than taking the trip down, the good ol’ memory lane
I will spread my tall wings, figuratively of course, and then something, new trying
While letting the imagination fly, towards the very blue skies, and then visiting
Unknown places, out there, in the stratosphere, on the well known space trail
In the great and wide unknown, where you can find, if you really hard try, without fail
Alien vistas, with completely colourful places, totally opposite of our own world
The oceans and skies, painted in fire engine red, the beaches laid with soft dark silk
Instead of the usual sand we get here, mostly nice, but getting everywhere, so quick
No crowds to be found anywhere, which truthfully today, is pretty similar here as well
The cafes serving beverages and food totally out of this world, luckily, the coffee smell
Is also there as a familiar tell, so maybe, these aren’t as different from us after all
But when you run into a few locals there, on the open streets, the small and the tall
Beings occupying this specific place, with four arms and legs and three eyes round
Are a dead giveaway, we’re definitely not visiting Kansas on Earth, this time around
Not wanting to give too much away, as each and everyone should visit themselves
A place so alien and indescribable, yet fantastic, that only your own imagination can tell
When you dwell, inside those imaginable worlds, where your mind will be hurled
Once you let it relax for a moment, and go beyond the known realm with a turn
Then maybe you too, will have some, out of this wold and odd tales to tell
Having your own “fake” memories in your mind, even if no one is buying what you sell
“Uncle Sam, wants you too, to get up and VOTE!” Gun Roswell
To vote or not to vote? Well, there really is no question at all!
If the designated, United States, really is part of the world
Then why, oh why, can’t my small voice, from up North, be heard?
In this, supposedly promised land of total democracy
Lately, it seems, only been represented, by less than mediocracy
So what if,I live in, a very far away and sometimes frozen land
I know full well, that my own actions, could easily, stand
The testimony of this thing called time, and that is simply why
Each and every capable soul, occupying their space on this very planet
Should and would be able to bring in their vote to annex
And finally, get their say in any and all matters affecting
As on the very global scale of things
Nothing can be good, until the fat dude no more sings
Oh yes, I know, that some may say, this is just a stupid rant
But this time, this very year, my voice will be heard as a plant
In this form of artistic type poetry, hidden, neatly, in a blog
And now, no more than ever, we all, need to lift up this vale of a fog
Get off and up from our cushy derrières and pick up that note
Which clearly in bold letters state: you too, are able, to cast a vote!
“There is always, time to write” Gun Roswell
On my Sunday seat, I do, write
“I am writing, I am writing, I am so totally writing!”
This, is the mantra, I am, always reciting
But, it so damned hard, as my mind is against me fighting
Always, telling me, the supposed truth, without smiling:
“Your writing, is not very good, now is it, so why are you yourself lying?”
“But, but, some people, like it, they even say so!” I hear myself defending
“That is just cosmetic”, the brain says, knowingly, “a social media bullshit type thing.”
“No, you are so wrong!” I hear myself whispering, but the defeat, steps in
And then, all I can do, is to, stop, my writing
So, now, I am sitting in my hard seat, and, I am crying
Thinking, through my tears, why even bother trying
“Defeat your inner saboteur, and you can accomplish everything”
A quote in a very wise book, as I decided on reading
Instead, as I am no longer, the writer I thought, but, feeling
The strong urge to get back there, and, yes, start typing
After some time, on my own, me and my mind, contemplating
I have moved back to the comfortable seat, and slowly starting
Again, my fingers, running through the keys, and soon enough, I am writing
For me, Sean Connery was the one and only true James Bond, and I was saddened to read of his death today, aged 90. The cause has not yet been …
Who was your favourite Bond?
“Scary monsters, super creeps, Keep me running, running scared” David Bowie
Scary Monsters and Super Freaks
Darkness surrounds me
In every corner do I see
Scary monsters lurking
Soon enough, freaking
Footfalls getting closer
I look over my shoulder
Fight or flight?
Did not even bring a knife
Picking up the pace
Looking for a hiding place
Nothing can be found
I turn around
Standing paralyzed
Totally petrified
Watching helplessly
Facing the enemy
Feeling hopeless
When a dark figure approaches
Huffing and puffing
Its legs scuffing
It stops in front of me
Looking at me, curiosly
Its mouth opening suddenly
“Got a light deary?”
“There is always time for a coffee, or two, or even more. Heck! I could drink coffee all day long! So, just, plug me in, please!“ Gun Roswell
Friday, and the Coffee Break
The working week, once again, totally spent, in a mostly blurry bend
Without so much, as a good, relaxing break or even, a full nights rest
The only, and never changing constant, in this, whirlwind of a, well, quest
Is the one dark, strong and yes, even dubbed golden, liquid, to digest
But, not each and every stop mark, was, such a success
As sometimes, the days, got to be, a total and utter mess
When getting, that one precious cup, or maybe two, or even a few
Was skipped due, to all them urgent tasks, always, overdue
Luckily, surviving, like always, the week, from Monday, even, to this, Friday
Before, the weekend’s full and awaited release, in front would be lain
Some other types of liquids, certainly none, as tasty and good made
More like a big beast, completely opposing the elixir of life, now, finally slain
So, today, on this, day of Friday, the one day, where running around
Like some kind of beheaded poultry or maybe even, a mad cow
As all the consuming hustle and bustle, is finally toning down
And then, having, “so much” of that time, simply, to get unwound
But maybe, just maybe, skip all them scheduled, planned, awaiting other activities
Forget about all mind numbing, and lip downward curling negatives
When finally, seated, in peace, with a large cup, of that sweet, sweet release
Downing it all, in one, big gulp, and then quickly adding, another full cup
As celebrating, the week’s end, with some much deserved and great coffee!!!
“Just keep on watching the skies, even if you something odd spy, like blue skies!” Gun Roswell
Seasonal Skies
The low hanging clouds of the grey skies
Was the trade mark of this seasonal pie
After all, it was, once again, the time of fall
Even if somehow, the summer, was skipped with five
Or more days, despite the occasional mild
Some might call warm or hot weather on the side
Of May, June, July and perhaps even August went wild
For half a day or so, but I digress, because this
Was supposed to be about skies
Which do not really care that much about the season
Because given even a smallest of reason
The blue skies, will try to push through all
The dark cloud coverage, because they are simply that bold
And even if the clouds hanging low and grey
Will put up, quite the menacing albeit picturesque display
The bluest of blues, are my kind of hues
Snapping, snapping, snapping my clicker away
Wishing, that maybe, this time, they will longer stay
