Friday and a Cup of Coffee

“The day of free, well Friday at least, is upon us and what better way to celebrate than with a nice cup of coffee, right?“ Gun Roswell

Friday and a Cup of Coffee

Friday, is here and so, a giant enormous cup of coffee is poured, simply because, it is the best way, to celebrate, the fact, that the weekend is upon, even if the day itself and the coffee, really do not make any sense, but then again, coffee, goes with everything and nothing, and if I feel like it is the very thing, to be used for some minor celebratory action? Well, then, who will stop me?

So, now that it is all settled, I too, will settle, with my feet up, without too much of a huff or puff, and watch the weekend silently descend upon my very self, of course, enjoying my big cup of the finest organic suspension ever devised and that is all I am going to do, over this weekend of free, and if some of you disagree, feel free, to sue me!

Green Tram Ride 

Helsinki, Finland

“Take a ride, not on the merry-go-round, but rather on a tram, which can, go around the tracks just the same“ Gun Roswell

Green Tram Ride 

Take a long, long ride, in somewhat of a merry-go-round, the best there can be found, only this time around, there are no small horses to ride, as this one, is a fun filled easy peasy green tram ride, taking the rider to all the places with a stride, as this ride will go right through the town.

The old school electrical cart, which well, in most greatly stocked cities can be found, rolling there on their tracks close to the ground, and that is the safest way to ride, with kind of a pride, on this green and funky and multi-wheeled car of a thing, a tram to as they call it here, up north.

And so, get a ticket for a small fee, and then you too can ride the whole day, “for free” never mind the time, and if you miss some things, while looking around, whatever there can be found, simply make another round, and see the city through the eyes or rather windows while riding the green coloured tram.

Ships on the yard

“The ships on the yard? Well, guess it is true, that any port you can call home… is something something!” Gun Roswell

Ships on the yard

The old and discarded, wooden and made ships, on their sides left to lay, on the back yard no less, apparently having become obsolete and useless after some fashionable new ones had taken their place, what a waste!

Then again, isn’t that the way of the present day? But, if there was a way to restore these old school vessels, the beauty still there, even under all the dirt and old paint, the effort too big to take on? Anyone?

But for now, it seems, that those craft are left for all to be seen, as nothing more than a rotting pile of useless junk, making a good hiding place for the mice and even a few skunks, after all, the animals seem to be able to recycle old stuff, so why not us? 

Elements of the beach

“The elements both natural and man made, as observed from the coolest of shades” Gun Roswell 

Elements of the beach

The sandy shores, never a bore for the ever vigilant observer of nature, the elements found, simply by looking around, head turning all across the expanse of the beach, nothing ever out of reach, many an interesting elements to be found, just looking up and from the ground.

The water, always blue and inviting, the skies with a similar hue, fluffy cloud formations floating by, when the eyes look at the ever so highs.

When too much it gets, then the glance down let, observe the ground beneath found, the rock covering the dirt, but don’t get your feet hurt, wear flip flops when venturing to the shore, never a bore, with the waves crashing to the soft sand, just feel it with your hand.

The pier man made, concrete or wooden, it’s all the same, the construct pushing ever outward to the high seas, walk down there and the even you can see, out there over the great sea.

This, is who I am

“I am a simple writer, making my way through the mass of talent of this world” Gun Roswell

This, is who I am

I am an extroverted introvert

With the mind of a child locked inside of an ancient body without time

I am the ever and eternal optimistic pessimist

Always looking for the worst, while expecting the best

Searching for some kind of a truth, which I never really hope to find

I am alive and well, well? But also, only living inside my own head

I am a mass of a mess, but with an outlook good no less

The eternal dreamer with a head of a cloud

Surrounded inside of it by a protective shroud

Never wanting to leave that very special place

Even whenever venturing where others may stay

But, I am okay, just the same

Being this odd one out always and everywhere

Unboxed, untethered, but wearing a pretty bow 

Just because, I like to put on a show

And so, coming to the matter of fact (or fiction)

Even if no one can that fact even begin to understand

This, is who I am

Lazy spot for a Sunday

“There is nothing really much to do on Sunday’s except to find the perfect spot to lay low in for the day, the best kind of stay” Gun Roswell

Lazy spot for a Sunday

The most perfect and softest spot found

And it was certainly not on the hard ground

No, it was a softly cushioned kind of a swing

Which came along with a bell and a ding

That was of course to be able to order service

For whatever kind of desires might rise up

For food or drinks of course, perhaps even 

Entertainment of sorts, such as music or shows

But even without all those things of creature comforts

The simple way of only staying, in quiet laying

Was the perfect way of spending any day

Except usually that was never quite the option

Rather only during these days called Sunday

Was it possible to indulge oneself to lay claim

Of anything personal and not requiring any strain

And so, having found this perfect of the places

There would be nothing on this Earth to remove

This carcass out of the blissful state of non-move

And so, as time passed, even if this moment lasted

Only for the day, there were no regrets whatsoever 

On display

The Black Cat a lurking

“The cat might be black, and none too friendly at that, then again, neither are most people“ Gun Roswell 

The Black Cat a lurking

There black cat, strolled from behind the shack, seemingly ready to attack, but perhaps not, as it might just have been alerted there on the spot, of something moving about, as this was the black cat’s territory after all, and the lurking was kind of its domain, so, whomever dared to do just the same, well there was going to be trouble, as the black cat really did not like to share, not their feats, nor their place, as it would disturb the balance of things.

And so, the black cat strutted, around the neighbourhood, just like it should, watching, lurking about, making sure, nothing hinky would happen during its watch, as this was the black cat’s spot and when it was on the prowl, no others, Holman or animals alike were allowed, to step inside the territory of the black cat’s ownership, not without a fight or something similar, and that was pretty much it.

Ocean views

“A room with a view, of an ocean blue, what else can one ask in life?” Gun Roswell

Ocean views

The blues calling from the ocean deep, the soft waves washing a shore, the sandy beach nothing of a bore, with the skies open wide, the sun but a big smile, the warm fresh air, leaving no one in despair, beckoning the weary traveller to take a chance, as long as the days will last, to make their way to the side, where the water meets the sky, the feeling a thought, taking off the very ground and flying ever so high, like some sort of a fancy kind of kite. 

Only this is the dream, even if it all so real seems, eyes wide, looking at what was left behind, on the sandy beach, the body still stands, waiting for the fancy flight to somewhere land, but it seems, that the freedom of it all, lasted way too long, and now, it will never come back again, the idea, the thought, the dream, all gone, lost in the gentle winds over the ocean, the empty vessel remaining on the shores, watching the ocean soar, while the fancy flight of the thought up there in the blue skies will roar. 

Two or four, more is more? Or maybe not?

“Whatever it is, two is better than one, and then again, if you have two, why not three or more, after all, more is more, right?” Gun Roswell

Two or four, more is more? Or maybe not?

What is it with us and the fact that stuff keeps gathering up, in all the corners of the rooms of our homes, sometimes even chocking the whole office and bedroom, piles upon piles on top of each other, will try us to gently but surely smother?

Well, guess the old adage, less is more, has yet to reach the modern core, as the need for all things new and better, just is in sitting there, set in our current DNA, most likely to stay? Some of us maybe saying what the hey, when in Rome, but yeah, it’s the more that is definitely not the score.

So, if you see a low hanging fruit or berry, possible something like the pictured cherry, why don’t you simply try to settle for just two, and leave the rest there, for others to chew. Maybe it’s not so bad to just get the taste of it, rather than to try to overdo it with too much of the sugary goods? So, are you on board?

The water, the rock, the sunshine

“The elements of life, well, at least part of them, mostly those used for a great summer’s break“ Gun Roswell

The water, the rock, the sunshine

The spring of life, the cool blue stuff, the liquid so clear, you can see through it, and the best thing of it is, that you can actually drink it, bathe in it and simply, lull yourself to sleep while floating on it, truly the multipurpose tool for any kind of fool in need of some relief from whatever kind of ailment.

The rock, hard as they come, an element, none too fun, but good to be used as another kind of tool, like hammering down a nail or using it to cover up a trail, whatever use basically thought of, even a house built, well, sort of, but also, a great place to sit on, when all other furniture fails.

The sun, shining above, the warmth, the bright rays, the light, all of it combined, what a great surprise, after such a long while of remaining in total darkness, and so, for the duration of a season, perhaps more, the shining sun, sometimes a bore, mostly though, praised by lore, will be the one keeping up the spirits of those seeking its audience.