The Calming of Sundays

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“It’s always calmest before the storm, that’s why they call it Sunday” Gun Roswell

The Calming of Sundays

The presence of calm today is lulling me to false sense of security
As, today is Sunday, I know with almost a hundred percent certainty
That it is only a fake state
Before it is too late
For me to realize
That Monday, is once again upon us
Thus, bringing the horrific storm of fuzz
The weekly strugle, the mundane strife
The grind which all of us want to escape
But, on this day, on this hour, it is much too late
The holy weekend is over
As the darkening clouds start revolving
Over our tiny heads evolving
Bringing forth images do scary
It is a miracle any of us survive
Live throughyhe night as the winds are howling
Your very essence scowling
Preaparing for the worst to come
And leaving you stunned
Too nervous to think or move
Yes, the weekly grind, the huge storm
Definitely, has you schooled
To be, act and live
By only its one rule
At least, Monday through Friday
During the weekend
It’s not a concern, how your time is spent

Black Cat for Caturday

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“The black cat crossed the road, at the traffic light” Gun Roswell

Black Cat

The familial of any self respecting witch
Witch, a female, with a black feline
Feline so agile, with a fur so sleek
Sleek as her movements you can hardly see
See when she turns up from simply out of nowhere
Nowhere like a dark flash of light
Light so dark, she’s almost invisible
Invisible against the black night
Night, as the time when the feline hunts
Hunts for pray, which better be aware
Aware if you are a rodent or other type of pest
Pest, vermin, which are eating all the crops
Crops which are important for the survival
Survival for us all, both human and animal
Animals such as cats the familial of the witches
Witches who take care of their pets
Pets, a cat, the black cat, may just be
Be, but sometimes, it can be something else
Else, other, something completely different
Different from the other, you will never see
See you just might, if you concentrate really hard
Hard and let your imagination run wild
Wile as the black cat does
Does when she wildly runs
Runs over the land and then comes
Comes back to her master the witch
Witch, where the familial only exists

Friday comes, but once in a week!

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“Thank goodness, it’s finally Friday, ’bout bloody time!” Gun Roswell

Friday comes, but once in a week!

Friday, at last, this week, could not have gone any faster
Faster, as I very well know, will this day end too
Too, and then “boohoo” I cry, but hey, that is just fine
Fine, as I know, there will be another Friday
Friday, which unfortunately only comes, one a week

Week, is such a dreary measure
Measure, like a year or even a hundred
Hundred, is the number of the percent
Percent, which I always give this day
Day, unlike so many others consists of hope
Hope, so hard to find these days
Days, gone by, but hopefully plenty ahead
Ahead, like the word hope, wish, what ever
Ever, I wish Friday here to stay
Stay, please stay, I totally pray
Pray, like you are a deity or something so great
Great, better than anything else
Else, is where I usually am
Am, exist, being, living, solely for Friday
Friday, oh how I love you
You, this, feeling which you can only bring
Bring little ol’ me, each and every week
Week, oh, were are back to this again
Again, and in circles I run until
Until I come to the end of this poem
Poem, so yeah, guess I have a thing for Fridays then!

Hey, it’s Friday, and there is a party, at my house, if you can find it, that is 😉

Well worth the wait

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“Call it what you will, I call it, a life savior” Gun Roswell

Well worth the wait

I was struggling, I was tired, I was totally beaten
As if life itself, somehow, had me completely cheated
I was anxious but confused, I was restless but still so used up I could hardly move
To be honest, I had completely and utterly lost, my groove
So, now, what to do?

Then, a sweet tempting scent
Up to my nostrils and into my brain went
I felt the lure of the smell so pure
So refined, so totally divine, it could only be something so fine
And i knew then, that without it, I would most certainly, die

Getting up, slowly, but surely walking towards the heavenly scent
Don’t care even if I need to have my last dime spent
But I know I want it, I need it, and I am determined to get it
And as I finally wrap my hands around the most precious gift
I will know, it will well be worth the wait

Greece vs. Water for World Wide Wednesday

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“There are plenty of places to dive, to swim or even row, in Greece, in a small cove” Gun Roswell

Greece vs. Water

Clear blue, endless, cloudless skies, and cool, refreshing blue waters
Suitable, for us lowly peasants, and even, for the kings daughters

The ancient, mighty monuments, surrounded, by the crystals glittering
The many images of the castles, forts and other similar types, on the surface reflecting

Waterfalls, existing in a garden or even, carved by nature
A calming effect, is just the same, no matter which way you venture

When the night slowly falls, and the time, totally stalls
The birds are taking their final flight, before tucking in, for the darkening night

Here I am, sitting, contemplating, for a moment, by the turquoise pool
Now, slowly changing, into deep dark colours, by the eerie shadows

Playing, on the surface, finally daring in, for a nightly dive, in the liquid space
Refreshing, rejuvenating, before finally, falling, into deep sleep in this heavenly place

Control, really is, an illusion

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“The illusion of control, huh? How funny is that?” Gun Roswell

Control, really is, an illusion

I am in total control of everything and all surrounding me
As you, can clearly see, this illusion of control is a perfectly built delusion
Which I am keeping up all day and all night
Never, ever even considering, giving up the fight

As I have managed myself to convince
Of this, state of being, in control, that it really exists
I am now in the process of turning other over
To my perfect side, of this, perfect place of order

But the more and more I try to keep the mode on
Of being the one, with everything and anything under my thumb
I feel the drain, even to the point, it starts to stain
My poor face, my hair, even my body, all going down the drain

And then, as I slowly realize, that being int total control is agonizing
Really is something of an imaginative thing, a hoax
Invented by some marketing people after some bad smokes
And then, I give up, saying I am a mess, and there is only chaos around me
And guess what, you are all in it too!

Transports for Mundane Monday (1)

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“Choose and pick, which ever you may fancy!” Gun Roswell

Transports for Mundane Monday 

Tram

With a tram, you can calmly sit down and even have a ham
No need for steering, for peddling for even discussion of any kind, if you so decide
Just sit and enjoy, the ever changing scenery, and when you are ready to jump of, shout ahoy
Or then, just push the red stop button, instead!

Transports for Mundane Monday (3)

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“Choose and pick, which ever you may fancy!” Gun Roswell

Transports for Mundane Monday 

Scooter

The black big thing, on the street corner there
You cannot help, but stand and stare
It is massive compared to any kind of bi wheeled moped
Are you even sure, this, thing, can be called a scooter?

Transports for Mundane Monday (2)

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“Choose and pick, which ever you may fancy!” Gun Roswell

Transports for Mundane Monday 

Blue Car

Owned by “Katri” as it clearly states on the back of the tiny blue car
She has really taken care of this piece of technology so far
Driven it all across the country and then some
And freely admitting, she and her friends really had a lot of fun

Summer chasers

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“Chasing summer to the end of the world” Gun Roswell

Summer chasers

In the middle, of the coldest of winter
When the snow storm outside, makes you shiver
Your only wish, for someone to deliver
A promise, a hope, of summers glimmer

And then, finally, after so many months of sorrow
Spring runs by, so fast, you’re wishing it had longer lasted
But the seasons are for us only to borrow
And soon enough, the long awaited summer is here, with skies so clear

The lush nature and warm breeze
Nothing but sunshine as far as you can see
But nothing is as you it imagined
The dreams quickly turning against

Record heat hitting the fans
Something no one really predicting can
Days and nights, groaning of too hot weather
Not even the waters alleviate the aching fever

Now, sitting under a tall tree
In the shadows wishing only to see
The coal and calming white powdered snow
And the cold breeze as the winter winds blow

For you see, no matter how hard you try
It’s never as good as the fake memory in your mind
Whether the weather is to blame
Or simply the set of mind games we play
Who can really say