A Whole Lotta Going On for a Monday

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“Mondays are the busiest days of the week, or at least, that’s how they seem to be” Gun Roswell

A Whole Lotta Going On for a Monday

There are reflections, in the background mirror
But, as the picture is getting somewhat clearer
Still, nothing too defined, is really popping up
But, as I squint my eyes, trying so hard to figure this out
I think I see, some balloons in the air free, a bbq maybe, is it a party of sorts?
Or then maybe, it’s just the liquor consumed for lunch, I snort
As the image is still, somewhat of a distort
The lunch and the (one) drink, sure did kick a punch, not as I had originally thought to be fair
And now, it’s making me see things, which really are not there
A party in progress! Yeah right! If so, maybe I can crash?
And make this mundane of a Monday, a tad more of a dash?
But what ever it is, that over there exist
For this Monday, that was supposed to be the usual boring prick
There’s surely a whole lotta going on
(Even think I head some kind of a bang of a gong)

Bus stop and a Cafe

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“Mondays without colour, what a drag!” Gun Roswell

Bus stop and a Cafe

In thIn the middle of drizzling rain
A coffee cup, left a small stain
On the table of a minimalistic cafe
In the middle of a heavy street traffic
An unusual place for a respite
Almost on the tracks of a tram to sit
But the colourfully painted frame
And the comfortable seats, can take the blame
Of wanting to take a break
A few moments the city’s dust to shake
Before continuing exploration
In this small town Scandinavian

Good vs. Evil, the eternal fight?

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“I believe you can make forces of good and evil work for you, to get what you want” GG Allin

Good vs. Evil, the eternal fight?

They say it is good for you
Healthy type of food
You must eat it
Possibly, even enjoy it
But who can really resist
The tempting siren song
Of the sugary spawn
Of a glazed donught
They said not to touch
But I really wanted it so much
Sneaking it out
In a hankerchief no less
I must confess
I ate the whole thing
With one big bite
Just out of spite
I really, really enjoyed it

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Red for Monday

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“Mundane Mondays are the best” Gun Roswell

Red for Monday

When the mundane Monday raises its grey and dull head
Why not sprinkle some fun and colour up in the air instead
Maybe put some deep red on an old house
Otherwise sticking out like a sire louse


Even paint the barn door
In the colour most of us adore
And when completed all them upgraded and some leftover paint remains
Head on, to the garden and slap on a coat of smarting
Onto, the tiny windmill, always giving the chill, even warning
When the wind blows or then if it sometimes storms
So, now, definitely going strong
Simply because, red, has the perk on
This mundane Monday, not any more glum
But really starting to be fun!

Pink for Monday

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“Mondays without colour, what a drag!” Gun Roswell

Pink for Monday

Yesterdays reflected

From old discarded windows

An old shack

Once painted black

Now boasting, the colour pink

It’s an eye sore some say

But others, smile and

In front of it for a moment stay

It’s not useful anymore

Who knows what secrets

Within it are stored

But for now, the windows

And the doors

Remain locked of course

And maybe someday

You may find the key

Which unlocks them all

Candlelight and Dinner

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“There really is nothing more fabulous on a Mundane Monday, than a nicely set dinner, with some mood giving candlelight” Gun Roswell

Candlelight and Dinner 

Even, if it may not be that special of a day, which comes at the end of the week, a Sunday
Still, dinner, in quite good company, great food and add to that , some candles shining the light
It can be most certainly, the very completely unexpected highlight
Of this odd day, which is, today, a very plain and totally mundane, Monday

Skylight for the nigh skies

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“I like to make the mundane objects i find, and turn them for the mundane Mondays as fabulous when ever and where ever I can”
Gun Roswell

Skylight for the nigh skies

When looking up, at the tall structure, it feels, like an alien spaceship
Or then, I am on just a really, and totally weird out of this world trip
There, up high, situated, towards the night skies, a fully made of glass skylight
Illuminated only, by the stars in the darkened night sky, which still is, surprisingly bright

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Two of geese a-walking

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“The birds are taking over the world, just like in that movie! Hey, that is just fine!” Gun Roswell

Two of geese a-walking

On the eleventh day of May
What comes suddenly my way?
Two geese a-walking
And their really slowly walking
I am thinking they are stalking
But I try to ignore them
As I am quietly walking
Into my phone I am talking
But I fear they’re still walking
And at me they’re really gawking
I am getting nervous
This song is not so funny
And it’s not even x-mas
Please I try to hurry
And not much to worry
Then i start up running
Are they still me following?
In self-pity and doubt I’m wallowing
Are they going to kill me
Am I going to be their dinner
But I don’’t eat meat
So it’s not a good defeat
I can clearly see it
Just some bones soon left
Then I run even faster
Maybe try to out last ‘em
Now this road is ending
No more time for me spending
On this stupid poem
Which turned out to be a song
With the two of birds
Birds of something something
Of the two geese a walking

Monochrome Monday

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“So, we meet again! My dearest, not! Monday! Why can’t you be gone already?” Gun Roswell

Monochrome Monday

Monochromatic
It’s really electric
Even with only a few colours
You can smell the odours
Of the world of greys
Where all the light
And even shadows stay

Monochromatic
Is the world often seen
But even the plain shades
From white to all the greys
The nuances are there
You just need to stare
And up they pop, in your face

Monochromatic
I am getting quite ecstatic
The dance of light
And the bass of shadow
Never me fail
Just letting it all go
The bright colours
Do not bother me anymore

Simply, Red

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“I have always been caught by the pull of the unremarkable, by the easily missed, infinitely nourishing beauty of the mundane.”
― Tana French, Broken Harbor

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Simply, Red

Simple, should be the word
Yet so easily slurred
But, for any kind of mundane day
When all the colours, are just grey
Then with one simple touch of red
You will be, unravelling, the thread