I write, therefore I am?

“Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing” Benjamin Franklin


I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t writing.

I did my first “screenplay” at the age of five with crayons and forced my whole family to watch the Christmas play I wrote, produced an ven acted in too! Later in my teens, I started writing fan fiction for my favourite shows on television, way before the internet, fan fiction as such and even personal computers were invented. I loved the weekly challenges for writing in school and of course, I was a book junkie too.

Writing for me has been sporadic at best and I mostly consider myself a closet writer. I am in the closet, out of the closet, back in and now finally out again, publishing on the internet as much and as often as humanly possible 😉

I am also a poet, and did not know it: True in many ways, as I write from anything and everything. My inspiration can be a phrase I heard on the lift ride or something from the morning radio. Mainly, these days, I get inspired from the pictures I take.

For me, personally, writing is an creative outlet for the mundane working day. If I do not write, I am be a very, very, very cranky person ;P

My motto is: A poem a day, keeps the mental doctor away!
The second motto is: Write more, complain less!

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Something, something, wild side?

“I have no idea?” Gun Roswell 

I have no new ideas 

My mind is completely blank

Writing this un-rhyming poem

Is the only thing of I could think

Something, something…

I guess is better than

Nothing?

But I do what I can

(Do I really?)

Scribbling on my smart phone

Trying to create the perfect poem

And simply realising I am just repeating

The one missing thing all over again

So I am stopping

Right here, right now

Before my brain is popping out

I will try to take a break

From being a writer fake?

10 years of Blog Posting already!?!

10 years of Blog Posting already!

Where did the time go?
Somewhere, as it really wasn’t taking things slow!
Alas, here we are, ten years later, mostly not a hater ;P
Blog, blog, blogging away, like this is the place in which to stay!

Well, here’s to ten more!
As guess, it’s not such a huge chore after all!!!

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Sailor and a Writer

“I’m a writer and, therefore, automatically a suspicious character” Sir Alfred Hitchcock

Looking into
A writers mind
You may phew
On what you find

Look in,
Carefully

Surprisingly
Lurking
Emerging

A

Tinker, Tailor,
Soldier, Sailor,
Rich Man, Poor Man,
Beggar Man, Thief

Peeping Tom, Stalker
Pervert, Prude 
Sister, Brother
Loud Mouth, Mute

A

Antagonist
Protagonist
Killer, Saviour
Bad behaviour?

Winner, Looser
Coward, Hero
Or simply a Zero?

Storyteller, Liar
Truth teller, Denier

A questionable character?
Or just a clever Actor?
Psychopath,
Or, on a Path?

Writer, Politician, or a Crook?
Did I get you hooked?

Something different


“And now, time for something completely different” Gun Roswell

Something different

Getting away, from my solitary comfort zone
Feeling the tingling sensation, in each and every bone
I wish I had eaten, that damned scone
Because no I am hungrier, than a queen on her thrown

Something different for today, was on the agenda
But, as hard a I tried, I could not seem to be able to bring back the referenda
Trying hard is easy, they said
But now I’m wishing, I really would get paid

Alas, working for free, is the curse of this writer wannabe
Some might say, I am the ultimate dummy
But, why would anyone one pay for what you can get for free
Even if the charge was just a nominal fee

So, something new an spectacular this ain’t gonna be,
I may be, some kind of scribbler, you see
But tending into my old patterns to hold on
Writing each passage till I am done

You say, I am boring and nothing is good or any fun
It might as well be the Enterprise’s phasers on stun
My advice then is; stop reading my stuff, don’t huff, rather write your own stuff
Then I’ll be the one scolding, the things before me unfolding

Writer, heal thyself

“A writer’s life is never an easy one, the lonely and solemn state, lost in one’s own head every single day… but what if I like it there, inside of the made sphere?“ Gun Roswell

Writer, heal thyself

The made up words with the made up characters inside of the made up world inside of the mind of the writer

Going in deeper, never leaving the comfortable familiar place, the outside is there and outside it will remain

Living in one’s own head, night and day, never easy alas it is what this choice came with and what to except

The life of a writer, being everyone and everywhere all at once even if never really leaving the made up place up in the head 

As there it is where they belong, the stories being told even if none of them are the writer’s own.

You can call me Alias, Alias Fakename

“Being a writer, is never easy, as having to play the part of each and every character inside the arc, drives one crazy, most days, sitting there, talking silently to oneself” Gun Roswell

You can call me Alias, Alias Fakename

All those stories, all those characters strong, bold, uninteresting and lame, each of them, playing their own little games

Living their lives inside this writers mind, never letting them sleep, taking the writer in too deep

All the worlds, being built and destroyed, restored and revisited, circle never ending

A lot of time, inside there, all day long, even some nights to be spending

Well, it is really easy, being a little crazy, some might say, even a lot

But, being right there, on the spot, with those written and some still waiting to become, characters

Would you think any less, of the author, the bard, stating they were none to smart

To be doing all that?

But then again, these worlds, these people, animals what have yous, will surely last

Long since the scribe is gone, unless somehow, they will manage to incorporate themselves

Inside the world of insanity, the world of total fantasy, and remain their all eternity

I know words, I must be a writer

“Something about writing… um… Words? Letters? Story? Plot? Yeah, definitely know those words!“ Gun Roswell

I know words, I must be a writer

There is nothing to writing,

Simply know some words and type them out, right?

It’s that simple, the plot, the characters are simply devices?

Anyone with an idea can do it?

Just as long as you know, you know, words!

Cat, mouse, dog, house, child, adult, human, bird!

See! Simple as that!

A writers life for me!

“I have been a tinker, perhaps a tailor, certainly not a soldier but tried, oh yeah, certainly some kind of sailor…. What? I’m a writer aren’t I?“ Gun Roswell

A writers life for me!

The uncanny sniper, having everyone in their crosshairs, not to shoot mind you, simply to observe, watch and learn, but mostly there, simply to steal whatever ideas they can from you and that one would be called, the author.

And beware, as no-one is safe from the snide gaze of the patient one sitting somewhere out there, high up, their eyes never leaving their target until they are totally done, getting what they needed, for yet another story to write down.

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