World Wide Wednesday : Monument Market

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“Travel the world, see, everything!” Gun Roswell

World Wide Wednesday

Monument Market 

Exactly at noon
When the scorching sun
Hits the zenith
The local marketplace
Starts buzzing with life
As the tourist and other types
Come out to play

There is no shade
And certainly, no shame

As to:

What you do
What you wear
What you eat
Who you look at
Who you talk to
Who you ignore

And don’t forget
The glorious set
Of monuments, buildings
History of any era
When you roam around
The old school agora

The water and sun
Can also be a source of fun
When the day is ending
Then, consider some time
In the harbour spending

Age

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“With age comes wisdom… Yeah, right! So not true! I am as stupid as I have ever been.” Gun Roswell


Age

“Years just keep passing by… twenty-nine, twenty-nine, twenty-nine…
Oh, wait, what year is this?
Holy shit, I am over fifty… one, two… Oh, never mind!”

Age is just a number and all the rest of the cliches, which all those nice quotes in cards keep telling me. Feeding me, with false sense of hope, that getting older, and even each dammed year (unfortunately, like Mondays, which pop up every week, birthdays too creep around the corner each year, no matter how hard you try to deny them, or push them away) will somehow make me wiser, more comfortable, more mature, more of everything really. But, all I feel, still, is the same insecure little toddler I was all those years ago (no, still not counting).
But, here I still am, waiting, patiently (read impatiently) for the promises of age to come true. Should I maybe someone sue?

“Act your age!”

Another thing I do hear a lot too. So, when I ask the person who just scolded me.

“How old do you think I am?”

They just stare at me and don’t really know the answer to that. Well, imagine the shock when I reply.

“I am nineteen.”

After some consideration, the response might be something like.

“Oh, well, looks like you really had a rough life then.” or “A tad of the weary side, or rundown maybe.”

So, what,
If I am feeling like a youngster in my wanna be teenage fashionable clothes and, then, making jokes, suited for a person, of a middle school level, when I should be dressed in business casual, retorting funny anecdotes from some adult reading proved magazine.
So what,
If I laugh out loud after reading some not so funny thing, while on a bus, when everyone else is so quiet and sulking, because the weather is bad or life just sucks (especially Finns, they never really socialize. I should know for I am one of them).
So what,
If I like to do some hopscotch or the level of my conversation is better understood by some five year old at the yard than the up stuck colleagues from work.
So what,
If I don’t feel my age, act stupid sometimes (read: a lot of times), sulk and pout like a two year old if I don’t get my way.
So what,
If I am fifty-four (yes, i did the math), like the latest gadgets, dress in colourful clothing and go out dancing, beating even the younger people at their game of staying up all night

OK, so some days, I feel like nineteen, others like one hundred and ten, but all and all, pretty good, for any age. Talk to me about age again, when I turn one hundred and fifty-four, then we really have something compare, but for now, it’s just guess work really, because I, am just, fifty four 😉

2019

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“What the hell? It’s August already, and soon, it will be December!” Gun Roswell

2019

It’s gone!
over half way,
done!
in just,
a small blink,
of my eye

Oh shit!
the time,
really,
does fly!

August, you sneaked around the corner so fast
Having the power of a major bomb blast
Kicking me right there, in the very gut
Did you really think, it did not matter so much?

April, May, June, July
All those names of months, were just fine
So, why oh why, did you have to come by?
I was just preparing for summer, only to realize
It had so quickly, so unnoticed, going, going
Until gone and December will be there, so very strong

What remains for me now?
I don’t have a clue and most likely will have a cow
Well, she is standing there in the meadow
Blissfully ignorant of the eternal rant
Of seasons changing and soon, indoors
Poor her, too, will be closed

So, fair warning, dear August
Do not try to change the weather to gust
I had enough of that with plenty of dust
Let the nature and my mood be in summer
For a while longer before that old bummer
Winter strikes and then, I will loose this fight

The end,
of the year
is near
even though,
you might state,
it’s not too late,
as it’s still,
only half way,
plus a few,
plenty,
before it is,
two thousand,
and twenty

(O.M.G.!)

The Calming of Sundays

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“It’s always calmest before the storm, that’s why they call it Sunday” Gun Roswell

The Calming of Sundays

The presence of calm today is lulling me to false sense of security
As, today is Sunday, I know with almost a hundred percent certainty
That it is only a fake state
Before it is too late
For me to realize
That Monday, is once again upon us
Thus, bringing the horrific storm of fuzz
The weekly strugle, the mundane strife
The grind which all of us want to escape
But, on this day, on this hour, it is much too late
The holy weekend is over
As the darkening clouds start revolving
Over our tiny heads evolving
Bringing forth images do scary
It is a miracle any of us survive
Live throughyhe night as the winds are howling
Your very essence scowling
Preaparing for the worst to come
And leaving you stunned
Too nervous to think or move
Yes, the weekly grind, the huge storm
Definitely, has you schooled
To be, act and live
By only its one rule
At least, Monday through Friday
During the weekend
It’s not a concern, how your time is spent

Black Cat for Caturday

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“The black cat crossed the road, at the traffic light” Gun Roswell

Black Cat

The familial of any self respecting witch
Witch, a female, with a black feline
Feline so agile, with a fur so sleek
Sleek as her movements you can hardly see
See when she turns up from simply out of nowhere
Nowhere like a dark flash of light
Light so dark, she’s almost invisible
Invisible against the black night
Night, as the time when the feline hunts
Hunts for pray, which better be aware
Aware if you are a rodent or other type of pest
Pest, vermin, which are eating all the crops
Crops which are important for the survival
Survival for us all, both human and animal
Animals such as cats the familial of the witches
Witches who take care of their pets
Pets, a cat, the black cat, may just be
Be, but sometimes, it can be something else
Else, other, something completely different
Different from the other, you will never see
See you just might, if you concentrate really hard
Hard and let your imagination run wild
Wile as the black cat does
Does when she wildly runs
Runs over the land and then comes
Comes back to her master the witch
Witch, where the familial only exists

Friday comes, but once in a week!

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“Thank goodness, it’s finally Friday, ’bout bloody time!” Gun Roswell

Friday comes, but once in a week!

Friday, at last, this week, could not have gone any faster
Faster, as I very well know, will this day end too
Too, and then “boohoo” I cry, but hey, that is just fine
Fine, as I know, there will be another Friday
Friday, which unfortunately only comes, one a week

Week, is such a dreary measure
Measure, like a year or even a hundred
Hundred, is the number of the percent
Percent, which I always give this day
Day, unlike so many others consists of hope
Hope, so hard to find these days
Days, gone by, but hopefully plenty ahead
Ahead, like the word hope, wish, what ever
Ever, I wish Friday here to stay
Stay, please stay, I totally pray
Pray, like you are a deity or something so great
Great, better than anything else
Else, is where I usually am
Am, exist, being, living, solely for Friday
Friday, oh how I love you
You, this, feeling which you can only bring
Bring little ol’ me, each and every week
Week, oh, were are back to this again
Again, and in circles I run until
Until I come to the end of this poem
Poem, so yeah, guess I have a thing for Fridays then!

Hey, it’s Friday, and there is a party, at my house, if you can find it, that is 😉

Well worth the wait

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“Call it what you will, I call it, a life savior” Gun Roswell

Well worth the wait

I was struggling, I was tired, I was totally beaten
As if life itself, somehow, had me completely cheated
I was anxious but confused, I was restless but still so used up I could hardly move
To be honest, I had completely and utterly lost, my groove
So, now, what to do?

Then, a sweet tempting scent
Up to my nostrils and into my brain went
I felt the lure of the smell so pure
So refined, so totally divine, it could only be something so fine
And i knew then, that without it, I would most certainly, die

Getting up, slowly, but surely walking towards the heavenly scent
Don’t care even if I need to have my last dime spent
But I know I want it, I need it, and I am determined to get it
And as I finally wrap my hands around the most precious gift
I will know, it will well be worth the wait

Greece vs. Water for World Wide Wednesday

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“There are plenty of places to dive, to swim or even row, in Greece, in a small cove” Gun Roswell

Greece vs. Water

Clear blue, endless, cloudless skies, and cool, refreshing blue waters
Suitable, for us lowly peasants, and even, for the kings daughters

The ancient, mighty monuments, surrounded, by the crystals glittering
The many images of the castles, forts and other similar types, on the surface reflecting

Waterfalls, existing in a garden or even, carved by nature
A calming effect, is just the same, no matter which way you venture

When the night slowly falls, and the time, totally stalls
The birds are taking their final flight, before tucking in, for the darkening night

Here I am, sitting, contemplating, for a moment, by the turquoise pool
Now, slowly changing, into deep dark colours, by the eerie shadows

Playing, on the surface, finally daring in, for a nightly dive, in the liquid space
Refreshing, rejuvenating, before finally, falling, into deep sleep in this heavenly place

Control, really is, an illusion

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“The illusion of control, huh? How funny is that?” Gun Roswell

Control, really is, an illusion

I am in total control of everything and all surrounding me
As you, can clearly see, this illusion of control is a perfectly built delusion
Which I am keeping up all day and all night
Never, ever even considering, giving up the fight

As I have managed myself to convince
Of this, state of being, in control, that it really exists
I am now in the process of turning other over
To my perfect side, of this, perfect place of order

But the more and more I try to keep the mode on
Of being the one, with everything and anything under my thumb
I feel the drain, even to the point, it starts to stain
My poor face, my hair, even my body, all going down the drain

And then, as I slowly realize, that being int total control is agonizing
Really is something of an imaginative thing, a hoax
Invented by some marketing people after some bad smokes
And then, I give up, saying I am a mess, and there is only chaos around me
And guess what, you are all in it too!

Transports for Mundane Monday (1)

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“Choose and pick, which ever you may fancy!” Gun Roswell

Transports for Mundane Monday 

Tram

With a tram, you can calmly sit down and even have a ham
No need for steering, for peddling for even discussion of any kind, if you so decide
Just sit and enjoy, the ever changing scenery, and when you are ready to jump of, shout ahoy
Or then, just push the red stop button, instead!