Life?

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“Time, is running out, for all of us?” Gun Roswell 

Life, down the drain it goes

Always saying, maybe tomorrow

But that, never happens in time

Waisting time, seems to be just fine


Always the onlooker, never the one with life

Never taking, never giving 

Around myself only spinning 

Frozen, in a box, which never unlocks 


Watching, other people’s accomplishments

Peeping, at their special moments

Feeling the burn and torment 

Trying to shout, but nothing ever comes out


Is this life or purgatory

Or just another wasted story

Nothing gained no glory 

Only strife and continued worry


Looking out from my grey box

Hoping a colourful rainbow to spot 

Wishing for a tiny drop

Instead of a thundery storm

Stormy horizon

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“Thunder is always a much welcome delight or fright? ” Gun Roswell

Red on grey linger longer

Anticipating thunder and rain, in magnitude ten

Best way, the day spent

Straight lines

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“This is some sort of shadow play isn’t it?” Gun Roswell

Dark and light lines across

The concrete and water cross without hesitation

Try not to step on

Spring Sunday

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“Shiny, slow, Sunday” Gun Roswell 

Woke up late

Did not hesitate

To jump outside

Feeling the open wide

Alas the hot air

Felt bad on my fair

And delicate skin

Because I’m a Finn 

And not used to degrees

Over thirty odd seems

So now, sitting

Inside thinking

What could be cool

And no require tools

But there is nothing

To choose from 

Sunday fun

It’s just a pun

Invented by

Someone who denied

The whole day

And went somewhere

Else to play

A never ending repeating loop

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“Stuck on a repeating loop? Please, be kind and rewind.” Gun Roswell

A repeating loop 

Was today’s headline scoop

More and more people 

Have been caught in this sequel

Of history repeating

As time has gone cheating

Us all in a movie like staging

Where everyone is pretending

An nothing seems real

And not a moment able to steal

Can we please get a new tape recorder

Where scenes can be shown in order

And at the end only

We can rewind the tape boldly

Monuments

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“Travel the world, see, everything!” Gun Roswell

Exactly at noon
When the scorching sun
Hits the zenith
The local marketplace
Starts buzzing with life
As the tourist and other types
Come out to play

There is no shade
And certainly, no shame

As to:

What you do
What you wear
What you eat
Who you look at
Who you talk to
Who you ignore

And don’t forget
The glorious set
Of monuments, buildings
History of any era
When you roam around
The old school agora

The water and sun
Can also be a source of fun
When the day is ending
Then, consider some time
In the harbour spending

On a wild ride

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“Take a ride on the wild side” Gun Roswell

A ride on the minimalistic size motorbike
Turned out to be quite the interesting hike
Hardly fitting my big fat ass on its seat
But got on it anyway, as I never admit defeat

My knees bent, almost to the hilt
I am sitting here, on this smallest of seats
With the wind and all them flies in my face
Yes, truly this is a memorable stage

Riding along the streets at noon
Certainly, to the onlookers, I am funny as a buffoon
Cannot say I am enjoying the scenery
As the most concentration is used to keep the bike steady

But like all good (or bad) experiences my ride has ended
And I am really so glad this time to have wasted
In learning a lesson of sizes and even gravity
And some people should just stay on this side of sanity

Odds with Ends

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“Gotta have the odds to reach the ends” Gun Roswell

Objet d’art
Or something smart
On the odds and ends
Our time we spend
Without our creature comforts
We might be up the rafters

Grey but no rain?

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“Bring me rain, so I can finally breathe” Gun Roswell

Bring me no shine no more
But lots of rain down on me pour
I need to breathe in the liquid
This sunshine is killing me quickly

I tried so hard to adjust
Because I was told I must
But in the scorching light
I feel my will lost the fight

I was happier in the darker dreary
Feeling everything near me
The shiny bright open wide
I cannot find a place to hide

Shadow almost gone now
Even the winds hotly blow
Only one place left to go
But I cannot reach the under growth

Please hear my plead o’ mighty Thor
Send down some rain and roar
Heal this bleeding sores
Before all that remains is deadly scorned