Humour
“When life gives you lemons, peel one up and eat it like the sourpuss you are, a quick fix huh? ” Gun Roswell
Sour said the fox of the grapes
As it did not like the funky taste
It’s far too hot outside right now
But then again, yesterday it snowed
My face is too ugly for television they said
So why not try getting a job in radio instead
I’m constantly worried of every little thing
But taking a shower makes me wanna sing
When life gives you lemonades
Take them back to the store to exchange
“The cat sitting in the middle of the street? Well? It can mean several things really – waiting, wasting time, contemplating life, or just sitting, just because they can” Gun Roswell
The cat who sat, in the middle of the street, someone even pleading, for them to move away, as traffic would most likely cause some dismay, alas, the cat who there calmly sat, could not have cared any less, because they had a bigger plan, the bigger picture to see, because this was no ordinary cat, whom simply on the streets sat, rather someone with many philosophical thoughts, their mind in a constant swirl of all the things in there hurled, thinking about life, the passersby, even the faint smiles given to them on a few occasion, and so, without moving much, the cat who on the street sat, kept on plotting and planning, the life as we know it scanning, taking serious notes, and then posting those, in the galactic wide board, for the rest of the life forms, to make a note of, a warning of sorts, of what the Hoomans of the blue globe, were doing, without any kind of good form.
“Cats with attitudes, well that certainly is special!!!” Gun Roswell
The cat in front of me did strut
As if waiting for sim kind of major debut
Staring, glaring, daring, her eyes totally flaring
As if, she for what ever reason had completely had enough
“Wassa matta?”
I simply asked, not sure what this incident had now tasked
Because I knew for certain that the fact
Of food and water in the bowls were still intact
But she kept on staring at me
As if hypnotising was the on remaining to be
For everything else she had already gotten
My house, my bed, my servitude for only her spoken
“What more do you need?”
I know I sounded desperate not smart
The staring contest clearly lost on my part
She kept on going for a moment longer
Then, without further ado she parted, knowing well she was the stronger
And a cat with a attitude at that
“Sometimes, it’s good to forget, the worries, the daily grind, even the shoes and simply stroll out there, into the freshly fallen snow, in only, woolen socks.” Gun Roswell
There are no missteps
Just follow my footsteps
And you may find
A reward of a different kind..
…A pair of woolen socks
“Baking some nice pastries, for the sweet tooth on a Saturday noon, then finding out, how those turned out in the oven, is a whole other matter“ Gun Roswell
When the hunger for something sweet beckons, and to the freezer beckons, searching for some ingredients to whip up something real quick, before getting totally sick and delirious when the craving gets too much and such so then, finally finding some old and thankfully not yet mouldy supplies, putting them to getter for a few sweet pies. Shoving the lot into the oven and hoping the heck something of them coming out, a tasty treat for me to snack on, and in no time at all, the ding of the clock, indicating it is done, and so, it’s only a matter of moments before the treats are good and ready to eat.
Turning my back for mere moments, just enough time to make some coffee to go along with it and then ready with the dark liquid to pick up those sweet treats and what do I find? All of them gone, gone, gone! Nothing left except the face like a calling card of sorts. And when I looked at it I could clearly see, as to whom was the thief of my supposed tasty treats – Those darned aliens! They damned well ate all my sweet tarts!
“Another worthless year behind me in which I’d accomplished absolutely nothing!” Gun Roswell
Somehow, managed to muddle through real life, work and family
And for that I had an extra kind of remedy
Getting totally lost in the very land of, fantasy
And staying there for as long as possible
Watch so many favourite shows during the year
Over and over and over, without any fear
The familiar episodes bringing tears but also joy
And that my dear readers, was indeed the ploy!
Managed to output some things too
Stories, articles, poetry accumulating but a few
Over six-hundred-k words typed with bleeding fingers
But seeing someone cheering out there, sent me good shivers
People a few, really good ones too, did I meet
Not that socialising was the thing I was out there to seek?
Becoming somewhat of a hermit, a recluse, pardon the excuse
Of a certain viral strain raising havoc across the plains
Managed to get a few great friends
And over the internets no less!
We may never see each other face to face
But hey, as long as we share our favourites
That is all I really for the daily grind need
And so, without a doubt:
Happy New Year, just the same!
“It was the day before the real xmas, or at least, in some countries it is so, at least” Gun Roswell
Up here, in the North, we celebrate this seasonal holiday, this Xmas time without much of a ball
Even if the trees might have some, but we, us northern dwellers, prefer not to have too much fun
As peace and quiet, are the key words, so not to cause any kinds of riots
When Santa Claus or Father Xmas or Kris Kringle or whichever way you prefer this character of sorts to call
As this one single dude, who will bring us, well not food, but at least some not really needed stuff
And hey, that all should be quite enough, for this time of the year
When we all are mostly gathered together, in a sort of a celebration, without too much fear?
“There is something to be said about nature, as us humans are the feast to some of the species roaming free out there. It’s a good thing, the circle of life if you will, right?!?” Gun Roswell
Urban nature
What a wild creature
Concrete, asphalt
Dog poop on the sidewalk
Grass may look green
But everyone has seen
It was spray painted
To keep it untainted
And just as a feature
Nothing quite like
The smell of petroleum
In the early morning
When riding that bike
Or taking a hike
Though fair warning
Try to avoid stepping
Onto the tossed wrapping
Made of aluminium
Reaching the heavy trafficked streets
Listening to the musical feats
Of the car horn section on the right
The jackhammers creating the beats
People shouting in chorus
Day feeling more bright
Like your name was Doris
Crossing the street at red light
Just for fun not out of spite
Come late evening
Walking through the darkened park
The streetlights broken
Someone a lurking
Deep in the bushes
Not at sea, so at least no sharks
Your pace fastening
Trying to be cunning
Then almost running
Finally arriving
To the safe haven
Entering the doorway
You realize you’re not in Norway
From the lack of pine trees
Rather the sweet smell of pee
Greeting you, making you sneeze
Not the perfume of choice
But it could be worse?
You could be camping
Out in the wilderness
In a sleeping bag, damping
Rain pouring on your sleepiness
Bears lurking outside
No where to hide
Clutching onto the covers
Hoping to survive
Until the sun rises
“There is always room for more, more coffee that is!“ Gun Roswell
The time of the day, when you simply want your big fat head to rest lay, alas the time is not really on your side, the reasons plenty to keep your eyes open and wide, but not even a smile emerges, as the urge to sleep, is too dire, and not even the house on fire, would get you moving.
So, the choice is obvious, or rather the cure, as this sleepy state,, really is a human ailment, something rather easily to be cured, as rest assured, if you get a hold of the strongest, darkest of liquids, known to human kind, the trust in me, you soon will feel, simply fine.
As this, sustenance, is totally divine, sent from the gods, up above (or wherever they just might be, looking down?) the cup filled to the hilt, then another and perhaps a third, not too soon, but neither too late to consume, the caffeine kicking in and then, all you can do is to dance and sing, and perhaps afterwards, do whatever thing needed to be done.
Coffee, never too much of the stuff.
“The sweet elixir of life, whatever it means to each and every person, is different, but Coffee for sure, takes the lead in my book, without any strife!” Gun Roswell
Becoming more adult, the tastes from when a child, start to develop to a more, subtle direction, at least, that is the general consensus of things, and not all do agree, as growing up and becoming an adult are two different things, and so, how we muddle through the so called life, well, that too, varies majorly so.
Getting old, means you might want to vary your diet and perhaps start liking certain things you did not before, just like life, right?
Getting even older means, you will stat to love the bitter taste of coffee without any qualms, black no sugar, no cream and definitely no milk, no questions asked, except for the one always hanging in the air when the liquid from the cup starts to disappear – one more, please!
It is totally reminiscent of life in this writers mind, as the more stale it gets as it sticks to the bottom of the pot, having been left for far too long, on the very warming plate, and so the more bitter the stuff tastes… and then what happens?
Well, the more you go back to get, well, even more of the same old shit!
And you totally see it now don’t you, the premise of this very tale, right?
