“The monuments of yesteryear… yep, they are still here! “ Gun Roswell
Monumentally so
The dark and mysterious silhouette, against the night sky Bold, pompous and really big, is the character flying high
Animals, people and even abstract figures were applied The parks, streets and even museums, filled with all sizes “Monumental!” someone in awe sighed “Extraordinaire!” an other one was all smiles “Such beauty!” from off the sides “I want one of them to buy!”
The art works from yesteryear, were really pleasing, on the eyes And the great point being, it was all for free, with zero cents for buying!
“Roses of any colour are so gorgeous, even in black and white poses” Gun Roswell
Roses in monochrome pose
The neatly made arrangement, in the tall vase Making sure, the flowers, in an orderly stance stay The fresh cut stems, certainly trimmed to fit As all the colourful, roses inside of it neatly sit
The pose, so completely natural, it’s almost second nature The plush petals trimmed, to reminisce that of a statue The strong yet delicate odour, filling, the surrounding air As such is the nature, of this ever so romantic floras flair
Even, when stripped all the way down, to the bare basics The lush colours, the volume, and all other imaginable clicks These, as the most beautiful roses, still stand tall in their form Grey in colour now, but, that could have easily been the norm
But, it does not really matter in the end, too much really Whether the image can be seen sharp, or even so clearly And certainly no kind of colour, even black or white Can bring out the very essence or do just justice To this, entity, of a gorgeous rose, always, shining brightly
“A slow ride on the rails, on a bench, in a low riding long car, the hum of the electricity crackling, as the driver turns the tram towards the happenings, a joyride, has begun“ Gun Roswell
Step, on a Tram, it’s not a scam!
The long, long awaited adventure, was them waiting Alas, the now weary travellers, were still, hesitating To get on board or not to get on board, was the question And, whether to throw themselves, to the flow, with abandon As it was, the exploring visitors, already had their plate full
After, some painfully doubtful moments of waiting On the platform, with tickets in hand, debating Whether to skip this, reserved joyride, and go hide Because the new place they found, was open wide For exploration, and they were really, pressed with time
But, all of the doubt, was soon cast aside, at the first sight Of the old school vehicle, with headlights so bright Rolled coolly down the tracks, stopping, with a loud clank The cheerfully red painted car, looking it could not travel too far Alas, there was something irresistible, so why not hop on!
“All aboard!” The conductor loudly ordered, “Tickets please!” he then hollered “Go on, move along, There is no time to be wasted, for too long, We are taking off, at the bang of the bong!”
As all of the passengers, started boarding The best of the seats, some of them hoarding But there was room enough for all Small, fat, thin, odd, plain and yes, even tall And so, the ride finally begun, with all of them in awe
Gaping, mouths open, at the passing sights and scenery And one them even commented quite easily: “Clearly, This was the best decision ever made, Or at least, on this, very day!”
“What’s behind door number infinity? Secrets? Buried treasure? Bodies? Are you willing to find out?” Gun Roswell
Secret doorway
“Step right through, step right through” the bouncer shouted out loud “Nobody knows what secrets may loom, behind this cool blue door, Only a penny to enter, stay close to the center, For stepping aside, may cause you to go blind, But the the rewards at the end of the corridor awaits those, Who dare to venture, inside, the scary door!”
Surprisingly, there was a line just outside A long and a winding one at that, even of the fact Was, that there might not be anything precious Or even remotely reminiscent of a treasure Hidden or otherwise, which would explain causing a smile To those going through the scary door Alas, I was still one among them, feeling strongly That something worth while would turn up there, ever so wrongly
And, as I stepped inside, I heard the evil laughter Of the doorman, knowing I might have been drafted For something I would soon regret But, then again the option of turning back… Well, I had accepted the challenge So going forward, to balance The terror of a feeling, inside of me reeling And after the door closed behind me, it had begun
“Something about Sunday that makes me calm” Gun Roswell
S is for Sunday
The early morning with its light Peeks through my covered window The time is still before everyone is to rise And everything in this house is totally quite
There is no hurry for anything yet The only thing to do is to reflect The weeks which is coming to and end As I lay here on my comfortable bed
Soon another day and week will take over But this, today, this Sunday still has the power Of keeping me and myself in the moment For a fee hours before it is time to let
The new day, with new things, begin And the circle thus once again, complete
“They’re all ganging up now, against us, against the world, against all, and trust me, they will, win ;p“ Gun Roswell
Cool and the Gang of Cats
The ominous clouds, gathered in the tall skies The streets empty, devoid of all kind of life Except, well, that is when, they, stepped in Those supposed friends, of this, hooman kin
Soon enough, each and every nook and cranny Are filled up to the hilt with them sitting on their fannies Taking over each and every vacant corner and lot Yes, most definitely, they have some all consuming plot
As the furriest of characters, make their claim On this small planet, where life, well, let’s face it, is lame The growing sounds of the purrs and meows Are totally scaring off any other being, even the cows
But the point here really is, to take over the world And en masse, the furry felines, are certainly heard Their agenda still, the guess as good as any really Then again, all of us, surrendered surprisingly freely
After several moments of collective breath holding Awaiting for the inevitable to be soon enough unfolding But then as if reading the quivering masses an out The leader, or at least assumed to be, give out a shout
The demand list, has finally been delivered to the front door To those ones whom the felines assumed to be the top dogs After reading the list, assumed to be the end Was actually really nice, and nothing there to defend
The few request, of fresh tuna, catnip and occasional belly rubs on the top Were quickly reciprocated to the cool gang at the docks And soon peace landed on over the land of all As the cats, yes those ones, ate their fish and had a ball
Maybe, we, hoomans, are better off with these leaders After all, they demand so little and are not cheaters The trick here might be to just co-exist and adore The furry leaders, keeping us happy, and in awe
“There is nothing to riding a bike after a long time, just sit on it and peddle away, it’s just like riding a bike!” Gun Roswell
On neat city bikes on the city streets
Some of them, are totally colourful, some of them quite bland Most of them, are in such great shape, with many of gears grand Then again, one or few, are totally busted, the metal on them, through rusted But hey, that is just life, and if you get a lemon of a bike Don’t worry, and certainly, do not yet, go on a pedalling strike Because, there are always more of these, fancy two wheeled steeds Just around the very corner, and they do come, in with a very low fee So now, since after the hardest of the steps is done Which was, choosing the bike, for some glorious daily fun Now, you will be able to ride down, all of them busy city streets On that funky bike of the city, painted, oh so completely neat
“This is the end, stop, go no further, trespassing not allowed! So many warnings! Enough already!“ Gun Roswell
Dead End
The warning, was loud and quite clear That of, the end, being, oh so very near It was the stop, the last one at that No going further, just getting off fast Heading it, might have been a good idea Alas, stubbornly, hanging on to the rear Of the car, supposedly, moving forward As backing up, was no the option smart So, moving ahead, without a clue, what would be there Seemed, like a good continuation to the fare Started not so long ago, as an adventure But after the stop and turn back warning made a denture To the otherwise perfect unplanned plan of a trip But heading any kind of orders, usually skipped With a sense of rebellion, what ever the gig Going on despite the feeling of surprise strong Was tempting, and finding out what was waiting On the other side, of the forbidden sign Well, how on earth could I resist that! The car shifted slightly, as If itself fighting Against the notion of moving forward Was way too strong to resist, toward What new things and experiences awaiting So, what the hell, no time for hesitating And so, the car moved along As did I, with the sense of adventure, so strong
“The traveller never gets sick of looking at the vistas of foreign lands, I definitely don’t and looking back at all the pictures taken, I revisit all those places“ Gun Roswell
Scenic from dawn till dusk
The days of sunny and warm Spent around the old ruins just after dawn Much to see and plenty to do Especially as the day is getting hotter after noon
But for the enthusiastic traveller There is really nothing to complain rather Enjoying the new vistas and the history Of this place with plenty of stories
And, if you are planning to stay awake Until the late of the event filled day Make sure to make your way to the beach Or basically any open area seat
As the spectacle of the evening Is at that time about to begin The sun setting over the open waters There is really nothing to compare!
So keep on travelling, to strange new places If only in your mind or in a virtual space There is nothing more eye opening When out of your comfort zone staying
“It’s so hot and bright, it’s way too sunny, and I am not waring my shades!” Gun Roswell
Under the burning sun
The burning sensations on the pale skin Some say, that being here, like this, is a sin Stripped down to the very basics A layer of thin cloth strapped around the slick Oiled up body now splayed for all to see On this sandy and none too secluded sea
Yes, it is again that time of the year When finally able to shed all that fear Of wearing nothing but a skimpy outfit Even if on a far away private beach But the shame of it all has been stalled As the sun beckons under its power to fall
No matter, if someone wants to run an tatter A tale of the odd ones out there, under the sphere Of the golden and oh so bright light Laying there, all days on end, their times spent In dull motionless moments, without moving The angry mockers their constant torment
But they do not care, of the long stares Because this is the time for nothing The nothing of the very moment spent Under the lazy sun, without talking Without thinking, simply laying, eating Drinking, the troubles away, because hey! It’s that time of the year!
Rantings Of A Third Kind 