Olden Days I one

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”Everything was so much better in the good old days!” Gun Roswell

Olden Days

 Laundry Day

When airing, your clean or dirty laundry
Just make sure, to not show off anything tawdry
People, these days, are so easily offended
And then, you will only get arrested
Even if to all your mistakes and faults you confessed
And told them all, it wasn’t even your dress there

So now, trying to explain your way out of this big mess
As the old school clothes seemed to be so filled with holes, no less

“But they were just fine a minute ago, or maybe it was ten years, I really don’t know,
Tell me why I should perfectly good garment away throw,
Even with big, see through holes,
They really keep me nice and cool, when the wind blows”

The argument for and against may have taken too long
In the end, the end results for either side were none too strong

Today, once again, is laundry day
My raggedy old things, on the washing line sing
The same old broken song,
Even joining, is the odd thong

“We may be old and worn, but we will not be scorned
By anyone’s looks of long, as there is nothing with us wrong (not really)
And we will hold together, with a thinnest of tethers
Until we are discarded, and into carpets yarn
So, never mind us here, just look over there!”

Directions I two

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“It’s all in the perspective of things” Gun Roswell

Directions 

Flying Up

Catching the winds of spring
Soaring high up, my song to sing
I am a pretty bird in flight
And I may not always choose right
But I am sure this direction
Is the one I need for completion
Of my getting up so high
Even so far as the crows fly
Despite being a miniature beaked thing
There is no rule saying I cannot sing
And thusly, I am up here
In the open wide stratosphere
Higher than any other bird ever
In your face, for being clever!

Directions I one

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“It’s all in the perspective of things” Gun Roswell

Directions 

Going Down?

On a direction, one way, towards, the subway
Deep down, below, under the ground, we now go
Stepping on the steep steps, off the railing never go let
Never can be too sure, what creatures lure
Behind the shadow, inside the dim lit tunnels
Running quickly, feeling a tad sickly
Then, on to the platform, every single one of us storm
A train approaching, no time for second guessing
Hopping on, hope being truly strong
That it was going to the right direction
But still the feeling of anticipation
Maybe, just maybe, I got really confused
And went into the absolutely wrong direction!

Peekaboo

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“Peekaboo, I see you!”

Peekaboo

From its current hiding
It comes out looking for something
But then suddenly backing
Never any answers giving or asking

Playing, toying, lurking
Peeking, checking, probing

You may try a tactic different today,
Then shout out:
“Hey, you there; why don’t you come out and play!?”

There is no way of knowing
Whether it’s coming or going
Whatever it has decided of doing
It is for sure, there will be a surprise

Laying low, until it’s time to blow
But for now, just taking it slow

And then: out of the blue:
“Peekaboo, I see you!”

Hoist the Sails I three

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“Time for summer winds and sails” Gun Roswell

Hoist the Sails

Close to the mountains

Close enough to the seashore
As I try to some mountains score
That is simply, because
I really want a picture perfect to adore

So now, here I am, browsing
The sea line slowly drowsing
Hoping for that best of scenes
In my view point to achieve

Maybe not today, maybe not to tomorrow
But I know that even if I have to borrow
An image from some other land
I will get my mountain view as here I stand (or sail)

Hoist the Sails I two

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“Time for summer winds and sails” Gun Roswell

Hoist the Sails

Alone at the seas

In the middle of nowhere
Nothing to see and nothing to guide her
The tiny vessel with a lonesome sail
You and her, looking mighty frail

Prayers and wishes are of no use
But turning back you totally refuse
Still running low on supplies and fuse
Wondering “what the hell am I to do?”

Then it gets darker, now that wasn’t smarter
Surely we are doomed, and it’s all ending too soon
Alas, a few dots of light, in the high skies
Suddenly appear, an all that shaking fear, will completely disappear

When steering by the northern star
The land can never be too far
And finding a safe harbor, not a huge labor
Any longer, and as closer you get, feeling of living another day, getting so much stronger

Hoist the Sails I one

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“Time for summer winds and sails” Gun Roswell

Hoist the Sails

Near the coast line

When a total newbie by the sea
And all you want to do is to just flee
Then turn your head towards the gleam
Of the sun shining prettier than ever seen
Close your eyes for a moment please
Now wish upon the glittering beams
Of the reflections on the surface
Fe the yearning, your insides burning
The open your eyes, don’t you feel just fine?
And completely ready to the demands of the ocean comply?
Then set sail, never being afraid
Towards the future as you let the seaside you nurture

Versus I two

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“From the busy streets, towards the calm beach, that is the goal in life” Gun Roswell

Versus

Calm

I see the image in my very mind, it’s something unique, someplace to unwind
The colours changing now, from green to a coolest blue, some kind of hue
But then, like a sharpened photograph, everything is in my grasp.
The shining sun, rising high above, the breeze so low, the pace so slow
The turquoise waters glimmering, I wish I could swim in them

I run as fast as I can, then on to the sandy beach I land
At this point I don’t care if it is a dream or someone’s bad joke or scheme
I shed my clothing, boots and all, and into to the soft waves I let myself fall
Getting carried away to the wide open seas, where nothing and no one else do I see
Only sounds made are those of seagulls, flying high above my skull

This is bliss, this is calm, this is what I seek, this is what I want
And then, I wake up, as the car beside me honks

“Move it of lose it bozo!” I hear

Yes, I am back in the noisy street I fear
Until next time, when I dare to dream
As life never really is what it seems

Mundane Monday and Spring Time 3

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”It’s another Monday again folks, but today it seems to be so much nicer!” Gun Roswell

Mundane Monday and Spring Time

Red House

The old-style house on the hill
Against the back drop it just chills
Never mind the construction
It has always avoided destruction
Sitting so pretty, in another wise (shitty)
New style concrete block environment
The red house is surely gets its adornment

A contrast, built to forever last
(Maybe some fixing needed, the owner admits)
But so cute, so rare
It must be spared!
The tiny red house on the hill with a mouse
And in this image still, it looks like the house
Made for Jack and Jill
(or Juliet and Jill or Jack and Gill, which ever you prefer)
For everyone really, in it to chill
So, come on in, have a coffee
They even server baked muffins with toffee!

Versus I one

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“From the busy streets, towards the calm beach, that is the goal in life” Gun Roswell

Versus

Busy

Busy, and too loud, are the streets I now walk
There is so much noise, I cannot her anyone nor myself talk
As I move forward, a lot of unhappy people I stalk
Sometimes just to the nature of things I this chalk

But then I start to dream, as I continue still with much steam
My face lights up, almost see the gleam, as it beams
When a blurry vision, almost seeing the image, of place without scrimmage
As it appears to my mind, but it seems so hard to focus, before I have crossed the line

Just then, I see it, I can feel it, grasp it
Then something happens, shit!
I start running, ever faster, chasing the shadow
What is it? A green meadow?

To be continued