You say potato I say tomato

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“Listen to what I say, or don’t, is all good!” Gun Roswell

If you listened to me carefully, and really heard what I said
Then the tomato would not have turned into a potato in your head
So, I said pick to some apples and a few oranges, from the top branches
And you heard that part and then to make it to squash,
Even though I told you, to make a nice fruit salad, not down the drain wash

My every word twisted, wrong quotes listed
Sometimes I wonder, what language am I speaking, if any at all
Maybe it would be better, to not utter any words at all
My dilemma now going viral, my sayings world wide spiral

I was under the impression my brain mouth coordination was on the level
Instead every thing out of my mouth causing dishevel
Should I sing and do a dance number instead
Would everyone just be merry and clap and not chew my head

For now, I just keep on saying tomato
If you think it’s just my bravado
The I will let you that just think and hear 
I, will say my thing and not hide in fear

I am so evil it kills me, or so they say

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“I’m not evil, I was just photographed this way,  on this display ” Gun Roswell

I cannot fit any type, how ever you want to describe
I am not so good, but not too bad either, I just give out that vibe
There is no stereotype big enough
To catch and box my ego, yeah, it’s that tough

Being oneself should be the goal
Not being afraid of making a foul
Labelling someone evil, just because the have a little diva
Inside of them which shows, and with a bow all to them give ‘ya

Evil or not, I will not stop
Being myself, the ultimate pop
If you want to keep up the plot
Then let me be the star on top

Prick me and I will bleed, for my blood is red indeed
Throw your sticks and stones, they may indeed break my bones 
But with a bandaid and crutches 
I will soon again rise above your clutches

Jane of all trades, master of none

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“I know a little of everything, that is my weakness” Gun Roswell

Dabbling here, doodling there
Building something, out of spares
Always learning, never complete
Not really sure as to what I seek

All kinds of knowledge filling my mind
Too much data to totally unwind
Many tasks I can do, but utter knowledge of only a few
So many interests all around, it wouldn’t be fare to just one choose

Spreading thin across the board
Never really gotten the highest score
Teaching others and learning more
But oh where can I all this store

A Jane of all trades looks good on a resume
But a master of none, can be a pain in the butt-e
Knowing less would most likely be better
If I really was the ultimate go getter

But the title fits so I’ll wear it proudly
Sometimes, even shouting it out loudly
Truth been told, this merry world would be less bold
If the only populous, was a race of masters in a fold

A curse poem

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“I curse, a lot” Gun Roswell

What the fuck???
This really sucks
Just go to hell
And break the damned spell
This isn’t a pissing contest
But i’m never really honest
So what ever hits the fan
Maybe shit or something
I really can’t understand
Why the fuck
You complain a lot
So what, if I am a bitch
I’ve earned it
You are all bastards
And few of you are assholes
So you can all bugger off
Hey, did you just call me a cunt?
What is the fun in that you twat?
Oh holy crap on a crapper!
What a mother fucker
You really are!
Holly hell, batman and bollocks
This goddamned poem
Is not going so fucking well
Sweet Jesus and son of a gun
I am still having fun
Cursing is what i do do
When I don’t act
Like some stupid asshole

A Jack of all trades, but a master of pun

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“I know many things?” Gun Roswell 

I may know a little bit of everything

But sometimes, I am just pretending

When I get into a dark corner

And there is no kind of door there

I use humour, to dig my way out

Sometimes, I even have to shout!

The noise sprouting out of my mouth

So loud and silly, it’s just all, willy nilly

And then, I really do feel guilty

Then out pours the utter most filthy!

So guess you can say

I’m so stupid I just pretend

Play the part of the fool

Being a total tool

A Jack of no trades 

And a master, of none?

Paranoid?

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“I think I just may be, a tad paranoid?”

Voices, noises

Never good with so many choices

Watching, looking, staring

Who’s in my kitchen cooking

Daemons, angels, the devil perhaps?

God, Jesus and all those things fictional

Aliens and conspiracies more so

Paradoxes, global warming 

At least that one is true!

The FBI, police forces, neighbours even

And with their cats and dogs too!

They are all watching, me!

I am, becoming, quite paranoid

Something, something, wild side?

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“I have no idea?” Gun Roswell 

I have no new ideas 

My mind is completely blank

Writing this un-rhyming poem

Is the only thing of I could think

Something, something…

I guess is better than

Nothing?

But I do what I can

(Do I really?)

Scribbling on my smart phone

Trying to create the perfect poem

And simply realising I am just repeating

The one missing thing all over again

So I am stopping

Right here, right now

Before my brain is popping out

I will try to take a break

From being a writer fake?

Coffee. Nuff said.

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“Did I mention, that I really love coffee?” Gun Roswell

Today, is time for, Coffee

There’s no form of life without, Coffee 

A world revolves around, Coffee

That’s it, Coffee

Life=Coffee

Nuff said, I’m outta here!

And getting some more, Coffee

I am not a perfectionist, but I always see the tiniest of flaws

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“Flaw makes perfect?” Gun Roswell

A flaw here, another there!

So many flaws, I have some to share!
I’ve never been inspired to be the greatest
But neither am I among the totally flakiest

But in the years of late for sure
I have started to think of maybe, a cure?
For that nit-picking nagger, who’ll find all them flaws

Or maybe, just maybe, give it the hee-haw!?

Emergency?

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“Call 911, or 112 if in Europe” Gun Roswell

“911, what’s the emergency?”

“Everything?”

“How can it be so? You must define at least one thing wrong!”

“Can’t, it’s all so bad!”

“How bad is it?”

“It’s all full of shit. Life, living, this… nothing worth a single bit!”

“But, can’t you find at least one thing? Something, that would enable you to sing?”

“No, nothing.”

“That’s really sad. Almost makes me mad!”

“Yeah, well, how do you think I feel? Is this, life, all of it, even all real?”

“Maybe, or maybe it’s just a dream?”

“Well, if I am only dreaming, then maybe, from this nightmare I can wake up, fake my way up and smile, at least for a while?”

“Sounds like a plan? Have you tried to stand?”

“I will, just now. Yep I can, I am so proud!”

“Sounds great, maybe it was not too late, just a while to hesitate?”

“Maybe, but now, I will try walking, one step, then another, I hope no more you to bother. I am on my path now, somehow, able to walk again!”

“Thank you, for the explain! Now I too, can leave this plane, help an others, onto the next level to be able to get.”

“Good luck, I will try not to fuck up… this time!”

“You too! After all, for trying, there is nothing to loose!”

End connection… “Beep, beep, beep…”