All About Toxic Myths Lots of writers believe in toxic myths about writing. They will often call it ‘realism’, but fact is – these myths are …
3 Toxic Myths About Writing You Probably Believe
“The water so blue and alluring, is there something more there me tempting?“ Gun Roswell
Something about the water
The shimmering of the calm surface
Had me thinking of a possible prefix
The calming of the bluest of hues
Might be some kind of inviting lure
The waters so clear and alluring
I am slowly towards the edge walking
Was this a conscious choice?
Or was it, some kind of calling voice?
As soon as I reach the very end
Of the soft and warm sand
I tip my toes into the cool woes
The promise of something so much more
A moment later, I realise
I am no longer trying to surmise
As to what made me here to come
Rather enjoying a back stroke in the pond
There is just something about the water
Even if being just a lowly human and not an otter
Dipping into the liquid state
Well, I am not really sure, why one should hesitate
Let the gentle waves lull, salve and slightly swirl
Carry the ever tired body to the end of the world
And if you really want, stay there for ever in a lore
Or then, come back to reality and simply swim back to the shore
“You can mostly find them in packs, but today, they all travel in twos” Gun Roswell
Two cats a fishing
The cat with bold black and white stripes, all of her competition wipes
But the cat with simple coloured patches, usually the most fish catches
As the duo, of the two cats, out there into the harbour venture daily
Making sure the fish population gets a treatment, not always fairly
They like to sit by the seashore, watching life until they get bored
But when the hunger beckons, both of them at the same time reckon
It is time to pull out the big guns once again, before the afternoon is spent
Both glaring, intently into the seemingly calm surface staring
A splash, a meow and a few seconds later, the catch
A few more of the same, because no one them really can blame
One little fishy just ain’t enough, because you’ll never know if the going gets tough
So having a spare, is good thinking without scare
Several moments past, the two fishing cats
Are finally happy with their hard earned catch
Hauling the loot away, to their secret hideaway
Where happy munching sounds, fills the air out loud
“To enter any building or closed up space, you need to find the entrance to it!” Gun Roswell
Entryways to many places
The blank wall, does make you stall
But look around, even on the ground
The entryway, surely, can be found
At least, that is the point of this quest!
When you finally discover the sought one
Just make sure, it really is, the correct one
Because all the trap doors, should be avoided
At all costs, as they are really annoying!
Never mind, the “do not enter” sign
It was only put there, for a good scare
So, please, do dare, inside to venture
Who knows, you might be up for an adventure!
“Almost every Monday I wake up with a dread of a new week, but then, I look up, at the skies, and I feel, just fine” Gun Roswell
Cloudy, with a chance of Sunshine?
Clouds across the sky, caused me to drop my smile
Only seen now, are shades of grey, to my total dismay
But, then a bright white vision in there, like a spot of joy emerged
Sunshine? Could it be? Yes, pretty in that white blur I must say!
I am singing now, getting rid of that frown, as I am on the cloud
Number nine, me thinks they say, and hey;
For me, nothing but blue skies do I see, from now on, at least!
“Sweet spice of sugar, how I love the taste on my buds, such sweet nectar!” Gun Roswell
Sugar rush!
Oh, so pleasantly colourful
Exceptionally made to be completely alluring
Never mind, that it’s all totally and highly addictive
All that sweet, sweet sugar, poured all over and everywhere
Cannot help, but stop and stare!
What to do, what to do?
Should I someone possibly sue?
Absolutely not!
Because these things are so totally hot
Ready to be consumed by the lot!
I am so utterly confused, but maybe in a good way…
Oh hell, can anyone tell
If I try just one, a tiny little sample?
Why oh why is this all happening to me?
Is there any place I can this beautiful sight to flee?
Oh come on!
Just go ahead and eat it all up, honey!
“Living, by a river, is so totally cool. Well, it can be during winter time!” Gun Roswell
Riverside living with a smile
When a house was built
Near the water’s edge filled
With nautical stuff up to the hilt
I really could not resist
So I reserved a spot
Right there on the dot
Of getting a tour of the house
Hoping I wasn’t too much of a louse
Because I was only curious
Not really that frivolous
To have my home there
Where the cool waters fare
But little did I know
That I would fall in love
With the tiny house by the river
And now, I am a home owner
By that same river 😉
“Mondays are the busiest days of the week, or at least, that’s how they seem to be” Gun Roswell
A Whole Lotta Going On for a Monday
There are reflections, in the background mirror
But, as the picture is getting somewhat clearer
Still, nothing too defined, is really popping up
But, as I squint my eyes, trying so hard to figure this out
I think I see, some balloons in the air free, a bbq maybe, is it a party of sorts?
Or then maybe, it’s just the liquor consumed for lunch, I snort
As the image is still, somewhat of a distort
The lunch and the (one) drink, sure did kick a punch, not as I had originally thought to be fair
And now, it’s making me see things, which really are not there
A party in progress! Yeah right! If so, maybe I can crash?
And make this mundane of a Monday, a tad more of a dash?
But what ever it is, that over there exist
For this Monday, that was supposed to be the usual boring prick
There’s surely a whole lotta going on
(Even think I head some kind of a bang of a gong)
“Sunday is always spent in the mood of blue, whether it be the colour of the clothing, the colour of the ocean or the colour of the sea, it’s all so clear, you see?“ Gun Roswell
Sunday Blues in blue
The Sunday noon sun shine, hit high in the above blue skies
Almost as high as did the cool blue waves of the otherwise calm ocean fly
But for the one, now dressed up in all blue, just for the sake of pun
The blue was more than just a dress code, or the blue bird over flown
Sunday was always the day of feeling bringing on the one specific colour
It even had that special and all so familiar odour
The one with hint of sadness, maybe even a touch of madness
But mostly, it was a reminder of an ending, even, whilst leisurely time spending
Despite all the moods, hitting mostly, towards the blues
Sunday was and always will be, the time of reflection of all the dues
And maybe, even some of the don’ts, but mostly hopes
That the new week will bring forth, something much more worth
Than a simple afternoon spent wallowing, in the total blues
“Today, is just like any other day, except, I am one more year older. They say, it’s just a number, but for me, it feels like today, it’s carried to the umpteenth, so yeah, I am feeling, so old!” Gun Roswell
Note to self
When I woke up this morning, and could not stop yawning
I knew it must have been, a psychological scheme
Because today, wasn’t like any other day
Because today, I woke up with another digit added to my age
I know some say, that age, is just a number anyway
But for me, on this day, it feels, like something of the be afraid
Like a heave stone on my chest, not letting me rest
Rather a suffocating force, leaving nothing behind but torture
Alright, to this much I admit, that i might have been feeling sick
And not the measurable coughing, snot running kind of glitch
But, the more I started to run back in time
I could clearly feel the very hit of my last chime
So, I am not really, that old, but to be perfectly bold
I feel the life flashing before my very eyes and I am not sold
To be honest, I thought I would have put so many things to rest
And by now, I would at least, own that perfect crown
And then, after pouring all them things on to paper
I realize, that even if i might be a self proclaimed hater
I am feeling kind of fine in the very same skin i occupy
Even if I am not the perfect person, which I never deny
So what if all the achievements pegged for myself
Would be only realised at some other or later date
So what if I wasn’t the person I thought I ought to be
On this very day I turned a specific number for everyone to see
I may have spent so many years planning and waiting
The time gone by, some of it totally wasted
But I know there are plenty more ahead of me, waiting to see
What great things, I am able to finally achieve
Consider this little ditty
A note to self, even if shitty
No one is ever too old or ever to late
To do what ever things they put on their plate!
So, in the words of another mortal beauty:
Good god, girl, get a grip
Get your head out of that space of shit
And by the way, happy birthday!
Rantings Of A Third Kind 