Thoughts on the Day of Birth

Posted on by

“Even the Eternal Entity needs a day of… rest?“ Gun Roswell

Thoughts on the Day of Birth

Eternal or not

Cartoony or Spock

Sometimes life is a lot

Alas, happier thoughts

Despite the weight

Of one more year of age

Be it on the waist

Or somewhere else 

The eyes still see

The heart still feels

The brain… 

…well, that is a whole other can of worms

Literally, don’t even try to check it out

Alas, I digress!

Happy something something day

To the one who wrote this poem to celebrate!

Cake? 

Coffee?

Yes please! 

And keep it pouring at least

Until the clock chimes twelve

On the twenty-seventh 

(The day of hell???)

Young, old, eternal, in prime?

We all need our day to shine!

Writer, heal thyself

Posted on by

“A writer’s life is never an easy one, the lonely and solemn state, lost in one’s own head every single day… but what if I like it there, inside of the made sphere?“ Gun Roswell

Writer, heal thyself

The made up words with the made up characters inside of the made up world inside of the mind of the writer

Going in deeper, never leaving the comfortable familiar place, the outside is there and outside it will remain

Living in one’s own head, night and day, never easy alas it is what this choice came with and what to except

The life of a writer, being everyone and everywhere all at once even if never really leaving the made up place up in the head 

As there it is where they belong, the stories being told even if none of them are the writer’s own.

You can call me Alias, Alias Fakename

Posted on by

“Being a writer, is never easy, as having to play the part of each and every character inside the arc, drives one crazy, most days, sitting there, talking silently to oneself” Gun Roswell

You can call me Alias, Alias Fakename

All those stories, all those characters strong, bold, uninteresting and lame, each of them, playing their own little games

Living their lives inside this writers mind, never letting them sleep, taking the writer in too deep

All the worlds, being built and destroyed, restored and revisited, circle never ending

A lot of time, inside there, all day long, even some nights to be spending

Well, it is really easy, being a little crazy, some might say, even a lot

But, being right there, on the spot, with those written and some still waiting to become, characters

Would you think any less, of the author, the bard, stating they were none to smart

To be doing all that?

But then again, these worlds, these people, animals what have yous, will surely last

Long since the scribe is gone, unless somehow, they will manage to incorporate themselves

Inside the world of insanity, the world of total fantasy, and remain their all eternity

Winter vs. Summer

Posted on by

“There totally is something to be said about both winter and summer. Which is that people are able to bitch about them both as nothing is never good enough ;P” Gun Roswell

Winter vs. Summer

The weather changes yes, it is a natural occurrence.

Some of the places on this blue globe of ours have varied seasons.

Spring, summer, winter, fall, they all are part of the cycle.

Controlling them could be an option, then again something it is stopping.

The natural order of things disturbed as the humans continue their stirs.

And so, whining about it being too hot or too cold?

Guess whomever the ticket to this place we are on sold,

Did not let the buyers read the fine print after all?

Too young or too old?

Posted on by

“Either you are too old or then too young for something, you always seem to be at the wrong age at the wrong time” Gun Roswell

Too young or too old?

You are too young to understand, but you are also too old to play with toys

You are too old to live at home, but too young to get to an old folks home

You are too young to think of such things, but you are too old to not have a plan

Whatever the age, there is always a restriction of what you can or cannot do

Seems no matter what, you always end up on the wrong side of the age fence

And so, if you are stuck in the age mind loop of things, nothing moves along

So, forget age, be what you want to be, no matter how many stages you have gone through

Life is hard and living no matter the age is, an so all that which really matters

Doing the things you like at whatever stage, playing, laughing, trying on new things

Totally so, on the rocks!

Posted on by


“On the rocks you say? Order a soft drink of the same name perhaps? Or just, life in general being just that? Usually, it’s either one or the other, or then second preceding the first option!” Gun Roswell

Totally so, on the rocks!

Life, death, life, things that nature, whatever the situation might just be, being totally alive or having died? Well, I would hope that while writing this ditty, I am alive, or at least, pretending to be, for you see, being on the rocks, totally so, and not even getting the drink to top it all! Well, guess, this really does seem like a dream of sorts, as seen, when, not totally dead or alive, just somewhere there between a state, where a moment of hesitate comes upon the dreamer, well, me, thinking, where am I? Is this really a dream or real life and what is even real life? Then I remember, the fact, of not really being dead either, simply having escaped, the place of the rocks, or rather, laying on top of some very pointy ones, stabbing in the back, really nasty things those are and so, having simply escaped, to this dream world and only waiting for the dreaded moment, when the day calls and I got to get up and there it goes, the alarm! So, guess, on the rocks it will be, for at least, a while!

My life in seasons of a show

Posted on by

“This shit show of a life we are living in, doesn’t it make you think someone is totally calling the shots from somewhere else? Like some last season alien video game with enough outrageous drama in it to think it was written by monkeys?“ GunRoswell

My life in seasons of a show

Ages zero through ten were the prequel, simply to setup the show, the preface, the prologue if you will, just a trial run to see if anyone was interested in watching it at all.

Hitting the teens and turning twenty something, the rebel area and the adulthood, when running amok totally confused. So real for sure no writer could me that shit up?

Thirty, forty yeah, not feeling sporty but perhaps trying something on for a size, a life? The thing everyone is talking about. The thing you’re supposed to be living. The good years? Well, I fear the writer making my stuff up, fell asleep at the keyboard, snoozing through that time as did I.

Fifty, sixty, well, what can I say? Life is what it is the changes happening, something crappening, and so moving along in a pace, nothing really feeling the same even if deep down inside the kid from ten still exists.

Seventy, eighty, yeah old lady, or something else, whatever it feels like, hitting the big times? Golf anyone? Hey writer! Where the hell did you come up with these scenarios anyway? It’s all just a big cliche!

Ninety, perhaps a hundred? Well, congrats! This is the end goal for some poor souls, and hey, if you have reached this level in the game you can only yourself for it blame!

And so, the aliens playing this boring and stupid game finally realise they should go outside and perhaps develop something a little less of a boring screenplay.

Life reflected in the liquid

Posted on by

“Life reflected in water no less, ready to dive in?” Gun Roswell

Life reflected in the liquid

Life can be scaring, living it that is

But if you feel real daring, don’t let it 

Stop you from diving in

Just like the blue liquid, take a spin

Dive real deep inside of the whirlpool

Even if you might feel like a total fool

Simply let it all go

And just let the eternal flow

Guide you to wherever you feel

Even if the future seems unreal

Because if you’d do not dare

Then the much bigger scare

Will be the regret at the end

Of life without living having spent

The cookie thief

Posted on by

“The cookies are so delicious, why not try to eat them all!“ Gun Roswell

The cookie thief

The sugar rush pending, whenever the smells of the baked goods are ascending, up and in the air of the house, where someone lucky person’s spouse is doing a favour for the hungry crowds.

The cookies are being baked and onto the plates laid, all warm and tasty looking, the perfect kind of cooking, the sugary blobs of flower and water and something else, but the baker never really tells.

It doesn’t really matter, as the taste of them is so good, and even if you know you really shouldn’t take seconds, thirds and even forth helpings of the good stuff, well, guess, this cookie thief, simply cannot get enough!

Because yes, even if the offer was there to eat as much as wanted, it feels like stealing, as it is soo damned good and can’t say no!

Life, is a recycle

Posted on by

“The cycle of life, birth, living, death, a few the smiles, the eternal strife, it’s all simply, a form of things being recycled, am I right?” Gun Roswell

Life, is a recycle

They say all the intellectual properties have all already been done, by the selected few masters, perhaps in the very past, but maybe something new maybe there also and then retweeted by the masses.

Whether it is a simple repost of someone stating something great or even cheering for hate, there are those reposting, everything. Recycling every single word and picture found out there, on the world wide web.

It might be even someone you idolise, having said or done something clever, like your neighbours cat or Baby Yoda, whomever… But the internet of things, where we so much time spend is basically just that, recycling everything and anything.

The same can be said for life.

Whether it is poor choices or old memories, reliving those special and not so special events. Or then simply going through the daily grind, the supposed life.

It’s all the same really, just think about it: Sleep, eat, rinse and repeat. 

And if lucky enough somewhere there smack in the middle of it, maybe having some new idea, a break from the ideal, a trip or a party perhaps?

In school the teachers taught as all they know? Maybe, at least, some of the things, making the information flow, circling around and to everyone.

We as adults move along, repeating the steps of others, our parents, grandparents and so on. Then as parents pushing the learnt knowledge to our offspring, the cycle continues…

At work reusing the already invented and proven processes and methods, as why invent the wheel, it is round anyway and well, a circle. Moving along, in rounded circles.. see the repeating theme here?

Then the trash, yeah, that is the ultimate recycle! But that is a whole other tale, all the stuff we accumulate… and then throw away. Perhaps try not to do that to our lives?

In the end, its all just fine, admitting to it and then moving along with the circle of life! Heck, even the name says it all. Circle, life, recycle?

And so, whatever your belief or faith might just be, in the end, life itself might just repeat after death, a total and complete recycle of beings.

I myself, will certainly want to come back as a cat, that much is sure, as having all the internet cheering for me just being me! But then I would not care about any kinds of cycles, re or not. Except perhaps for a ball of yarn, that’s circular, right?