“There is a time for coffee and that time is anytime possible” Gun Roswell
The world in a cup of coffee
The day, started, just like, any other day With a steaming cup, of the hottest and darkest liquid, to save This, tiny soul and eventually, the world
Staring, into the still silence of the whirlwind Also, still knowing, that something, would soon begin And, that it, would most likely, change the world
Smelling, inhaling, sipping, enjoying, the total bliss No matter how much or how often, cannot believe this exists The total euphoria, I would like to share with the world
But, before all that was going to happen I am, into this, elixir of life, with full force, tapping So, for now, the world, will just have to wait Until the coffee filled blissful state to be hurled
“The water so blue and alluring, is there something more there me tempting?“ Gun Roswell
Something about the water
The shimmering of the calm surface Had me thinking of a possible prefix The calming of the bluest of hues Might be some kind of inviting lure
The waters so clear and alluring I am slowly towards the edge walking Was this a conscious choice? Or was it, some kind of calling voice?
As soon as I reach the very end Of the soft and warm sand I tip my toes into the cool woes The promise of something so much more
A moment later, I realise I am no longer trying to surmise As to what made me here to come Rather enjoying a back stroke in the pond
There is just something about the water Even if being just a lowly human and not an otter Dipping into the liquid state Well, I am not really sure, why one should hesitate
Let the gentle waves lull, salve and slightly swirl Carry the ever tired body to the end of the world And if you really want, stay there for ever in a lore Or then, come back to reality and simply swim back to the shore
“You can mostly find them in packs, but today, they all travel in twos” Gun Roswell
Two cats a fishing
The cat with bold black and white stripes, all of her competition wipes But the cat with simple coloured patches, usually the most fish catches As the duo, of the two cats, out there into the harbour venture daily Making sure the fish population gets a treatment, not always fairly
They like to sit by the seashore, watching life until they get bored But when the hunger beckons, both of them at the same time reckon It is time to pull out the big guns once again, before the afternoon is spent Both glaring, intently into the seemingly calm surface staring
A splash, a meow and a few seconds later, the catch A few more of the same, because no one them really can blame One little fishy just ain’t enough, because you’ll never know if the going gets tough So having a spare, is good thinking without scare
Several moments past, the two fishing cats Are finally happy with their hard earned catch Hauling the loot away, to their secret hideaway Where happy munching sounds, fills the air out loud
“To enter any building or closed up space, you need to find the entrance to it!” Gun Roswell
Entryways to many places
The blank wall, does make you stall But look around, even on the ground The entryway, surely, can be found At least, that is the point of this quest!
When you finally discover the sought one Just make sure, it really is, the correct one Because all the trap doors, should be avoided At all costs, as they are really annoying!
Never mind, the “do not enter” sign It was only put there, for a good scare So, please, do dare, inside to venture Who knows, you might be up for an adventure!
“Almost every Monday I wake up with a dread of a new week, but then, I look up, at the skies, and I feel, just fine” Gun Roswell
Cloudy, with a chance of Sunshine?
Clouds across the sky, caused me to drop my smile Only seen now, are shades of grey, to my total dismay But, then a bright white vision in there, like a spot of joy emerged Sunshine? Could it be? Yes, pretty in that white blur I must say! I am singing now, getting rid of that frown, as I am on the cloud Number nine, me thinks they say, and hey; For me, nothing but blue skies do I see, from now on, at least!
“Sweet spice of sugar, how I love the taste on my buds, such sweet nectar!” Gun Roswell
Sugar rush!
Oh, so pleasantly colourful Exceptionally made to be completely alluring Never mind, that it’s all totally and highly addictive All that sweet, sweet sugar, poured all over and everywhere Cannot help, but stop and stare!
What to do, what to do? Should I someone possibly sue? Absolutely not! Because these things are so totally hot Ready to be consumed by the lot!
I am so utterly confused, but maybe in a good way… Oh hell, can anyone tell If I try just one, a tiny little sample? Why oh why is this all happening to me? Is there any place I can this beautiful sight to flee?
Oh come on! Just go ahead and eat it all up, honey!
“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)
“Sunday is always spent in the mood of blue, whether it be the colour of the clothing, the colour of the ocean or the colour of the sea, it’s all so clear, you see?“ Gun Roswell
Sunday Blues in blue
The Sunday noon sun shine, hit high in the above blue skies Almost as high as did the cool blue waves of the otherwise calm ocean fly But for the one, now dressed up in all blue, just for the sake of pun The blue was more than just a dress code, or the blue bird over flown
Sunday was always the day of feeling bringing on the one specific colour It even had that special and all so familiar odour The one with hint of sadness, maybe even a touch of madness But mostly, it was a reminder of an ending, even, whilst leisurely time spending
Despite all the moods, hitting mostly, towards the blues Sunday was and always will be, the time of reflection of all the dues And maybe, even some of the don’ts, but mostly hopes That the new week will bring forth, something much more worth Than a simple afternoon spent wallowing, in the total blues
“Today, is just like any other day, except, I am one more year older. They say, it’s just a number, but for me, it feels like today, it’s carried to the umpteenth, so yeah, I am feeling, so old!” Gun Roswell
Note to self
When I woke up this morning, and could not stop yawning I knew it must have been, a psychological scheme Because today, wasn’t like any other day Because today, I woke up with another digit added to my age
I know some say, that age, is just a number anyway But for me, on this day, it feels, like something of the be afraid Like a heave stone on my chest, not letting me rest Rather a suffocating force, leaving nothing behind but torture
Alright, to this much I admit, that i might have been feeling sick And not the measurable coughing, snot running kind of glitch But, the more I started to run back in time I could clearly feel the very hit of my last chime
So, I am not really, that old, but to be perfectly bold I feel the life flashing before my very eyes and I am not sold To be honest, I thought I would have put so many things to rest And by now, I would at least, own that perfect crown
And then, after pouring all them things on to paper I realize, that even if i might be a self proclaimed hater I am feeling kind of fine in the very same skin i occupy Even if I am not the perfect person, which I never deny
So what if all the achievements pegged for myself Would be only realised at some other or later date So what if I wasn’t the person I thought I ought to be On this very day I turned a specific number for everyone to see
I may have spent so many years planning and waiting The time gone by, some of it totally wasted But I know there are plenty more ahead of me, waiting to see What great things, I am able to finally achieve
Consider this little ditty A note to self, even if shitty No one is ever too old or ever to late To do what ever things they put on their plate!
So, in the words of another mortal beauty: Good god, girl, get a grip Get your head out of that space of shit And by the way, happy birthday!
Rantings Of A Third Kind 