Seat on the side

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“Seat in the side of the street, sitting totally sideways just to rest my tired feet, well it’s Sunday after all, so no fuss but to let the time stall” Gun Roswell

Seat on the side

The day long and sunny, some would say Sunday funny, but the warm weather so soon after a long while of cold and damp and grey, well, it got the better of this weary walker, on a simple Sunday stroll, taken just because, the weather was so nice and beckoning, thinking to be bold and so finally outside venturing, after all, these days, in the times of change, it was still a choice hard to be made, but not on this fined day, of a sunny and warm Sunday, but for a while, after taking the long tour instead and in a while, having a respite along side, was something totally needed and never mind, the passersby, looking at what the lazy one was doing, but not caring a single bit as there was no hurry to do more than just be and enjoy, the day of free, on this quiet and long day, and so, in place for a moment longer staying, before pushing on, showing everyone, this one was still strong after all.

Umbrella

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“Come under my umbrella” Gun Roswell

Umbrella

Under the umbrella of mine
Life is good and feeling is fine
There is nothing so divine
When beside you to be lying

Under the umbrella of mine
Feeling safe and sound
From the world around
Nothing sad to be found

Under the umbrella of mine
We are living a life sublime
We have nothing but time
And faces filled with smiles

Under the umbrella of mine
Future is still uncertain
But together we are determine
Never to each other be hurting

Above

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“Floating an a cloud” Gun Roswell

Above

Mountains below seem so low
When watching from my ivory tower down
Clouds as curtains I bow

Coffee makes the world go around

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“Coffee, one large cup, please” Gun Roswell

Coffee makes the world go around

Coffee turns the world
When on its axel it is hurled
Dark fine liquid in it’s veins
The oceans and lands stains

Coffee makes the world
Sustaining its living herds
Life as we know it turns
Each day because of this miracle cure

Coffee is the world
Life each day due to it churns
Every single thing it’s praise sings
And peace on earth with every cup brings

Dead end

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“Arriving at the dead end” Gun Roswell

Dead end

Finally reaching the dreaded end
This will be the place I take my stand
Or then, it will be my own dead, at the end

Making my stance
My weapons drawn
No time to think or talk

The enemy’s approaching
The was no time for backing
Down, I had reached the impasse

Guns a blazing, I am moving in
Firing as fast as I can, no matter if the bullets land
I am in for the win, maybe this is a sin

Smoke and fire, how did I get into this dire
The only thing that matters now, is win or loose, and how
My weapon jams, my bullets are spent

All I see is smoke, but I am hell bent
Charging the opponent, I will not let
Anything rule my life, gotta get out of this strife

Fists punching, mouth biting
I am finally, doing all the fighting
When the smoke clears, I can see it very clear

A mirror in front of me
Staring, an image so familiar to me
My own face, busted

Staring back at me from the mirror rusted
A battle has been done, and it was certainly no fun
The only winner and looser

Am I

Something different

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“And now, time for something completely different” Gun Roswell

Something different

Getting away, from my solitary comfort zone
Feeling the tingling sensation, in each and every bone
I wish I had eaten, that damned scone
Because no I am hungrier, than a queen on her thrown

Something different for today, was on the agenda
But, as hard a I tried, I could not seem to be able to bring back the referenda
Trying hard is easy, they said
But now I’m wishing, I really would get paid

Alas, working for free, is the curse of this writer wannabe
Some might say, I am the ultimate dummy
But, why would anyone one pay for what you can get for free
Even if the charge was just a nominal fee

So, something new an spectacular this ain’t gonna be,
I may be, some kind of scribbler, you see
But tending into my old patterns to hold on
Writing each passage till I am done

You say, I am boring and nothing is good or any fun
It might as well be the Enterprise’s phasers on stun
My advice then is; stop reading my stuff, don’t huff, rather write your own stuff
Then I’ll be the one scolding, the things before me unfolding

Writing is, hard?

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“Am I really a writer? Or simply a pretender?” Gun Roswell

Writing is, hard?

When life sucks
But onward you must
Writing, your only outlet
This is as good, as it gets

Trying to type, not hesitate
But only staring, at a blank slate
Why oh why, did I start so late
Why must each decision require a debate

Life is hard, writing is really hard
But it’s been said, out of hardship you become smart
By now, after all, I should be a genius
So why do I feel like so much less

Am I a writer
Am I a fighter
Sometimes, I am neither
Today, I just sit and stare

Alas

Writing is a piece of cake
Have tiny slice at first, a chapter of the slate
Then another bite, see there was no smite
Now the second verse, goes just like rehearsed

Before you know it
You have a lot to show for it
An empty plate
But a filled up slate

Empty (Haiku) (Seat Sunday)

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“Always waiting for a bus” Gun Roswell

Empty (Haiku) (Seat Sunday)

Seats available at the station
Waiting for the bus for a trip
A vacation before next Monday

My command functions are off-line

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“All command functions are off-line, which usually happens during most days”Gun Roswell

My command functions are off-line

It is, thirty one degrees
Sunshine as far as the eye can see
Hot in the house, hot out side
Contemplating on the dilemma divide

It is summer and July
Should I stay indoors or go outside
Sitting slack by the air cooler divine
And if I don’t move, I am feeling just fine

Alas, it is summer, the time of fun, outside in the warming sun
But, once trying to feel the air with a pinky
Opening the door, the heatwave hits me
Why this is unnatural and does not fit me

There is no way for a northerner to survive
In that weather of plus degrees, remaining alive
When we were built more suited for the opposite scale
And in minus thirty degrees prevail

Slouching in my chair, without any thought or care
I really though it was best to share
Before falling into complete despair
And soon, all my command functions are gone totally offline

Rough terrain

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“A small walk through hell? Keep going!” Gun Roswell

Rough terrain

Walking until the soles of my shoes are gone
Then I will continue, until my bare feet are sore
Despite this rough terrain, it’s really all the same
Sand, rocks, even water, it will all end in a burner

So why do I keep on moving forward then
When there would be much better ways my time to spend
Lazy days on a hammock in the cool shades
Sipping drinks and eating food someone just for me waited

Call it human nature, or just some sort of internal hatred
The have to attitude, without too much platitude
Going on, even if feeling is none too strong
It must be some kind of madness, or maybe, just sadness

Until this all is getting more clear to me
I will just keep going, for you see, it’s so simple and easy
I can always by a new pair of shoes, and start singing the blues
Rough terrain, it may be the same, but I’ve no one to blame