“Step into the portal, open wide, and into, the adventure, of your life” Gun Roswell
The portal
When the portal opens, feel free, to step inside, and take a short ride, to the great unknown, and let your mind, be totally blown. Because once you are onboard, there is no single world out there, you cannot visit. And even if the trip seems most of the times quite dizzy, do not dare to stop and get off, but rather make it, to the very end, as the time in there spent, on this merry go round of a thing, you won’t have missed one precious minute, when the fare is finally over. It’s just like you had started and never even parted, your original destination, still, the accumulation, of experience and memory, is all saved, inside your head, for future reference, or when you will dream, in your bed. The portal, is now closing, but look around, maybe another one, a portal with an adventure, soon enough, can be found.
“Do not forget your history, as it will always keep on, repeating” Gun Roswell
Standing tall, no matter what
Monumentally so, the history ancient and even more recent, keeps on living, in the books, in the movies, even in our very minds, but most of all, it is still strong, out there, in the fields, on the mountains, beneath our very own feet, just look, you really don’t have to long seek. So, so many good and bad reminders, of our own past, but hey, you always take them, as a package, even if with a loud gasp.
All the tall structures, built strong and proudly, to forever last, by our ancestors, without too many tools or even plaster. Some of the structures, still standing, after all the years passing by, laid out on the planes or even elevated high. Despite the weather, the living creatures and nature growing all around, they were meant to last, even if struggling to survive, all those piles, because those are what they mostly are, will remain, long after, all of us, have left.
“It is, a different kind of fun, hanging there, under, the bright sun, but then again, I don’t like to run” Gun Roswell
Under, the palm tree leaves, I sleep
The warm winds, gently, heaved, above me, in the tall palm tree leaves As I laid under there, in the dark shadows, looking up, only to see The sunshine, now curiously peeking, as if for something, it had to seek Or then it was just me, being, once again, that one special kind of a geek As I was conjuring up, all kinds of scenarios, where the very sun, was a being From another world, with an agenda, and some sort of a ransom, and then chasing All us, lowly humans, here, on the planet Earth and because of just that, making Us, to go to permanent hiding, from those ever vigilant and ever searching Rays so brightly lit, it was becoming more and more difficult, in the shadows to fit But, for me, the gentle, caring and soft cover, of the tall and ever green Palm of a tree, provided all the cool shelter, I could possibly ever need
“It’s big, it’s red, it’s a monster of a machine!” Gun Roswell
A monster of a tractor
It may just be, the one and the only, technological epitome, of equipment for tiny me The mighty and really large vehicle, a tractor, all over painted, with the shiniest of reds And this, pretty red one, was going to be the one, driving little old me, all day, around In the fields open and quite wide, and with this kid, of vessel, it would be difficult to hide As the mere size of it, was a sight, but, also causing the narrow roads to totally shift As trying hard, to navigate and avoid, if possible, hitting each and every hidden ditch But soon enough, getting the hang of the mighty truck, and as it would be my best luck I managed, to hang on and ride all the way, without too much of uncomfortable dismay And finally reaching the fields of plenty, to start with my task of harvesting, well, gently Because this was the one kind of a tractor, that would rise to the occasion, out factored The cost of the gasoline and other kinds of upkeep, but hey, as it was doing the job so neat Then what is a small amount of expenses, when the harvest, was done in a less than a week!
“Trying to reach the top, might seem like an effort, but the reward awaiting there, no time to spare but to keep on going without a stop!“ Gun Roswell
High up on the Mountain Top
The top seemed, totally and utterly unreachable As I was standing there, below, fearing, the inevitable The climb, seemed so long, and time, was running out Because I should have already been there, to shout
“I am on the top of the world! See me twirl! Yes, I am that gurrrl, who got here in a wind of whirl!”
Alas, the previous efforts to haul myself up there and stay Had been, hm, shall we say, unsuccessful, in the best of ways I had tried, really hard, well, at least, some of the times But in honest truth, and I cannot deny, that procrastination was high And getting ever so high up there, close enough, to the stratosphere Had somehow always fallen into a very low priority, on any of the lists I had oh so carefully drafted for me, with tasks far from being a jest
So, the days went by, and despite of the promise to fly ever so high The time was never, ever on my side, at least, that was what I told myself (yes, a lie) But, finally, here I stand, with a rope thick, in my very own hands I host Trying to make up for all the time so completely wasted and now, also lost When figuring out all the excuses for not climbing towards the very top Gazing, glaring, staring, at the scary looking, feet shaking, hand breaking Yes, yes, I know, I know, that I am so many and too many excuses making So, here I go, towards the reward, one, step, two step, at the time…
“Hey! Guess I will be fine, after all! This mountain, doesn’t seem to be that tall!”
“Nothing like the cool and calming seas, in the early morning breeze“ Gun Roswell
Gone fishing or sailing, that is the question, right?
When that special kind of occasion sometimes happens to rise Which makes you totally want to jump up and down, holler and add a big smile You know what is going to happen once you hop on the bus Taking you out there, where, there is never, any kind of rush Where the open air and the calming of the blue seas, forever meet Just an open road ahead, without any kind of lanes on the streets The harbour soon visible, and all kinds of vessels are totally feasible To take a tour around the small side of the world, into it hurled With a small boat of fishing gear filled up to the hilt, no, it won’t tilt Or a large luxury type of thing, with sails and all that jazz kinda prim But what ever you choose, know that with that choice you will never lose As the most important thing of this day, is to relax and just sway In unison to those lulling and calming waves, in an uplifting way So, take a hike, out there, in the open where, no one will stare At the outfit, you simply overlooked, for this gig, was just that big Gone fishing, gone sailing, it’s all just in your own kind of mindset And if you have a spare day to spend, then maybe either sail to the worlds end Or then, make a small fishing trip out there today, and for a big haul prey Then the next day, you can take a load off, at that grand type of a yacht What ever the game plan, don’t just on the pier there aimlessly stand! But haul your butt to the nearest boat, and make yourself a good day out!
“The seaside beckons, each and every day, so getting going, even if I cannot for long stay” Gun Roswell
Another day, out there on the seaside, maybe, even sailing
When the internal clock, clearly indicates, it is that time, for all else, to stop With all this on going hassle and utter buzz around me, of the daily kind of blocks And then realising, what I really ought to be doing, and stop my cheeks chewing I should be out there instead, by those inviting and always ever so enticing docks And if possible, finding myself, a nice little dingy of a boat, that kind of sort Then row, row, row myself, out towards there, to the mighty and open wide, unknown
As it happens, and I am all alone out there, in the coolest of blues stratosphere What ever happens next, really do not give much of a care, as from now on from here I just want to take my leave from it all, and at least, for a short while, disappear Let myself some time to do absolutely nothing, but totally to the surround moment sink Alas, do not fear, I will be back to annoy you all, before you can say with a swear: “Now, why don’t ya, getta hell outa here, before this shit hits your hair!”
“The sounds of splashing water, reminds me, of summer, days spent by the seaside, watching the waves coming to shore“ Gun Roswell
Splashing Water
Water around splashed, as the blurry projectile, into the cooling waves dashed It wasn’t officially, the season for any kind of water games, but it was all the same For the adventurous crusader of the elements, taking the plunge without hesitance The others would just have to wait, the fire, the wind, even digging in the dirt As the inviting liquid, no matter what state it was in, cold, hot, stormy or even Tornado level tsunamis leaving, the ever venturing object of a body heaving In anticipation of the varied feelings, when playing among those alluring components Made by free, well, almost, by nature itself, a long time ago, so, even if exited Just try to take it slow and enjoy, all the waves possibly caused, while diving in There is no loose or even a win, just a moment of fun, while riding ever so high On the tall waves of the splashing waters, frolicking around with the sea otters And after all that needed to be done, for the fun, the adventurer will return, home
“There is nothing more nostalgic, than perusing down the memory lane, I the form of old travel pictures of days now gone“ Gun Roswell
Go to Paris; in a virtual narrative
The busiest of streets, of the quite big metropolis, are never, ever dull The markets and shops, the bars, and even cafes, always, packed full At least, so it totally seems, in those very colourful snaps, of before When travelling, to distant and foreign lands, was not, such a chore
Alas, the sights and sounds alone, are well worth the total of this short trip To one of the best known cities, that of bright lights, some of us call, well, Paris Even if it is, just in the faded memory, of this traveller, now home bound There are still lots of thrills and quite joyful moments, there, to be found
Taking a virtual tour, of the times strolling on some afternoon by the shore And alongside the long river banks, and maybe even, a short tourist boat tour If you are game enough, then try to climb the steps up the tall tower structure The Eiffel one, with the shining lights, covering each and every touristy picture
No matter how long the trek or what the destination, take it, without hesitation Travel deep into the recesses of your own mind, in a cozy spot during meditation Pick up the best of places of your travel, take a walk through the night time streets Then make a short detour to the museums and later, how about something to eat
Well, at least, virtually, if you totally forgot To order home food, from the grocery shop As in times like these, to avoid that, disease All of us stay home, and mostly, out of reach
“The seat on the sunny side, usually beckons to sit down, even, if you are not tired” Gun Roswell
Midday sun, Seated, no energy to run
The midday sun, high up, in the cloud free and cool blue, afternoon sky Was burning the skins, of all and anyone, daring, to venture, outside Without at least, a full and total coverage, of some kind of defensive clothing Even if it means, constantly pouring sweat and uncomfortable moaning
So, for now, walking down the streets, looking, for something, totally sweet First, the pace was fast, then more and more slowly, because, of the heat Thinking, that then again, the hot weather, might not just be the very best Time of eating any type of candy or cake, or anything sugary to say the least
Even hot coffee, at breakfast in the morning, seemed more, like a chore Luckily for this, very weary traveller, some genius, had invented a more Appealing version of the dark liquid, fancily, called frappe, so basically, a latte But only in a state of very cold and calming, poured in a tall kind of glass-e
Alas, soon enough, all thoughts of any kind of food or anything else to eat Was pulled out of the mind, as that totally consuming, sweat pouring heat Started to get the best of this, supposed explorer of all kinds of things great And then, the slowing down of the feet, so telling, it was, time, for a break
Suddenly, without any kind of warning, the sun, still terribly scorning Sent out a ray (or multiple rays) of light, shining, on to something alluring A bench, appeared, from the middle of nowhere, and placed, just in front The road to the beach front, sitting there, as it was waiting for this runt
And to top it all, seeing, a bottle, of something cooling inside, laid there Just like it had been dropped especially by order, somehow, knowing, I swear It was still ice cold, sizzling there, when I dared to step closer and touch it And then, when I was sure, it was real, I gently, and slowly, down sat, I did
Oh, what a total relief, I sighed, in utter bliss Even if the touch of the bottle, made a slight hiss Of a sound to the very warm, nay, hot air But then again, I really, did not have time to care
Because this bench and water had me The weary, tired traveller out in the heat So completely, with one simple seating Saved, and thank you so much indeed!
Rantings Of A Third Kind 