Scream and Shout, for Coffee

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“Not without my coffee, ever!!” Gun Roswell

Drag me by my feet
You cannot let me go without my treat
I can’t even make a tweet
If you won’t give me what I seek

I will scream at out of my fullest lungs
Tease me, and I will stick out my tongue
Shout so hard until there is no doubt
I want, need, have to have my coffee

I will not leave
I will not heave
I will not achieve
I will not be

Without my coffee I am nothing
I cannot function or do anything
I am devastated if I don’t drink
Without that wonderful liquid, I cannot think

Not without my coffee
Never without my coffee
See the pattern forming?
Consider this a warning!

Now, gimme my coffee!

Perfection

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“Nobody’s perfect, right?!” Gun Roswell

Welcome, to perfection!
A full life circle in reflection
Leave all your troubles outside
The only rule applied
Before entering the great open wide

Perfection is the emotion you feel
Perfection is the person you love
Perfection is life without care
Perfection is loving yourself

You are now leaving perfection
You only sampled a tiny bit of the selection
Is there something we did to dampen
Any experience you may have wanted
To try out in abundance?

I am not perfect
You are not perfect
Life is not perfect
Perfection
Is just an illusion

Weekend time

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“It’s some kind of week-end happening?” Gun Roswell

Finally the time has arrived
So give yourself a big high five
It’s that hour of the day
When at work you need no more to stay
The weekly grind is over
And you have all the power
To spend each and every moment
Either all or in separate instalments
The time and space is yours alone
Just remember, they cannot be cloned
But, do not try to be too bold
Or you’ll be left out in the cold
Enjoy this precious time of the week
Do whatever your heart may seek
After all this free time is given only
Once each week to the all the lovely
People working their butts off for the company
Selling their souls naturally;)

I am a trilingual illiterate

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“Me no speak no langvits to know!” Gun Roswell

I am a trilingual illiterate, and, I cannot read, write or speak in any language
Tongue tied and words a mumbling, head shaking and whole body trembling
I cannot make myself understood
Not at home or in the neighbourhood

Writing is hard making so many mistakes, even my proofreader send me complaints
Articulating can be a hassle, words pouring out on a total mess
I learnt so many languages in the past
Speaking and reading them quite fast

Is it just me, suffering from a speaking fear
Or do my words get twisted in other people’s ears
I suspect is none or the other
But I try not to let any of that bother

I may be an illiterate
I may even be trilingual
But as a matter of fact
I read, speak and write, no matter what
Hanging here out of total and utter spite!

Bad thing happen to those who wait

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“No good deed ever goes unpunished” 

If you think about it hard enough
Continue pacing, with a huff and puff
How life sucks and your left on the docks
The negatives will be knocking on all doors

Keep feeling those ugly feelings
And soon you’ll have the dealings
Of bad things coming your way
Played a card wrong, and most likely to stay

Good things happen to those who wait
Bad things happen when you hesitate
Carrying around all the baggage
World and all, in a large piece of luggage

If you want advice
Then this is not the place
I suggest, taking a short walk
To the end of a very long pier

Put all the hate, anger and fear
On top of the box you carried so long
Tie a rope around it all
Push the box into the water really strong 

Into there yourself, don’t fall
Now walk back, don’t look back
See how light it is on your back
Step is lighter too and outlook better

Now why the hell did you let it all so long fester?
This is a question for you and me
For you see
That person, is really me

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

What Ever!!!

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“Screw you guys, I’m going home!” Eric Cartman

You were smiling
Feeling charming
And quite beguiling
The sun was shining
This was supposed to be
A great day
For a song or a play

But then it turned out to be
Something else completely
It turned out to be
One of *those days*
Struck you in the face
Run over like a ten ton truck
And disappear without a trace

What the fuck?
Feeling like a schmuck
Completely out of luck
Standing in the rain
Without an umbrella
Almost going insane
And not from singing a cappella

So I say “What ever!”
And take my leave

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?