Custom made

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”B*tch, please!” Gun Roswell


I was made for you to hate,
There is no need for me that further to explain
And yet, I cannot resist telling you all of this
The recipe quite simple not to exist

Add:

A little dirt, some salt, hint of water and lots of plastic,
Place them in a mould, then simply, fold
Bake it all in a really big oven, 
Hopefully, something soon starts showing

A recipe might not as refined as that, which in the end, is just fine, oh snap!

I am here for all of you to peruse,
Completely made of plastic, certainty elastic 
One in a million, but somehow unique like a billion

I may come from a top shelf
But still manage to be oh so very custom made

Deal with it 😛

A fitting transport for a Mundane Monday 

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

Taking the tram to work :

As in 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!

The Green and the Seat

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“Take a load off on a Sunday on the Green Seat, even if it might not fit” Gun Roswell

The Sunday is once again upon us, like some lurking fiend waiting for the bus.
It is a slow and gentle time, which for most can be simply good and all fine.
But for those with a permanent fire lit up their asses, it can feel like harassment.
As they need to calm the hell down and if possible, take it easy and finally, sit down!
Something, which may never become easy for them, but then again, we are not all built the same.
Still, if and when the decision is made, to take a break for once and be all the same.
Then take a seat, take a load off, stop the huff and puff and simply enjoy the calm day.
After all, tomorrow, just may, be filled with all kinds of things to sort out and forget the play.
So, maybe Sunday wasted, wasn’t all that wasted, rather a moment where inhaling was allowed.
And for that very reason, simply laying about, can always be a good thing, for recharging.
Even if it is done on a way too small seat, painted all in green.

Three cats in file formation

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“The cats like to pack up, when going to sleep, for warmth and all that, I guess, or then, it’s something else completely” Gun Roswell

When cats, take a nap, they bundle up, snuggly with as many of them in there, tightly

This might just be, for the companionship, or for the warmth, or perhaps, because they can

Curling up, their flexible bodies in balls, as only the cats can, but also across the surface span

Widely and tall, even if they seem quite small, still, giving your very own bed, just to let

Those furry felines to have a rest, well, that is the way of the keepers of them cats

Letting them rest up, when even they must, and if you are lucky to have more than a few

Then maybe you can catch them all in a bunch of perhaps, they decided to make a row

Soon enough sleeping tightly, and leaving the keeper of them smiling as cats are cats

Be that a Caturday on a Saturday, or any other day of the week, they really do like to sleep

And sleep you must let them do, and soon enough follow maybe to a sleep you will them too

Rain, no shine, pretty please!

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“Bring me rain, to be able to 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

Hell just might be empty, with all them nasty devils running amok on this plane of existence!

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“Things, affairs , all of it, might be wrong, a lot of them are, but, giving up hope, was never an option, never part of the grand plan either. Was it?“ Gun Roswell

“It’s hell out there! Surely we had some time to spare before it was about to happen I swear!” Someone exclaimed having taken a spun around the neighbourhood, having found it no fun at all.

“Have you seen the latest news?” Another one asked confused of the times. “It’s murder and mayhem for sure and that is the awful truth!”

“I don’t leave my house anymore. Just because it’s such a chore.” The third one chimed, certainly they were not feeling so fine. “Putting all them gear on, the armour or whatnot, just to feel safe and even then you cannot be sure.”

“The kids are all home schooled now, not that its of any use. Them all hanging on their game girls and fun stations, twatting about it all on the internets of things. Such misuse of the time. All of it wasted for sure. But the lure of it all is too much to ignore.” The mum from across the street shouted from the open window, never ever daring to leave her home.

“Truly is sad all of it. In the olden days, well, everything was so much sunnier, funnier, lighter and brighter. And now, it’s all such shades of greys.” A not so old person retorted to the others, from a safe distance but of course.

“Yeah, hell has certainly arrived to our small corner of the world. Then again, what did we expect with all them devils running around in our streets. But we did invite them here didn’t we?” And with that there was no rhyme to be seen, simply a comment of how things had turned out to be.

Thinking hard?

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“Thinking hard or hardly moving one thought? Brain empty, no matter, another one can be bought?” Gun Roswell

Mind in full spin-cycle

As my thoughts its trying to tackle

I feel like i am about to chuckle

But then lost in another puzzle

My brain is trying to hustle

This little Brain of Mine won’t let me sleep!

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“Something certainly rattling up there… Could it be… a thought perhaps?” Gun Roswell

This, tiny, useful brain of mine
Thinks, it is, doing just fine
It keeps on going and going and going
Even though my body yearns for slowing
Down at night, well… sometimes
And some other times
Too needs, to rewind

So, I ask you nicely
Please be kind
Shut down
Every once in a while
Let me sleep
Dream real deep
And maybe a later
I will reward you with a nice state of
Quiz and debate

Oh Gravity, thou art a heartless little bitch aren’t thee, I know you are!

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“I thought the whole point of growing older was to grow wiser, not wider! The first thing ain’t happening but the second one sure is! Goodness knows we are so lacking wisdom in this world, so what gives???” Gun Roswell

Oh Gravity!

I trusted you, ya know
I thought we were the best of friends
Forever I mean, heaven sent and all that jazz of a kink
But ya sure fooled me, didn’t ya!
Cause this ain’t no ship, friend or otherwise!
And I’ll bet my shiny fat derrière you’re sitting out there somewhere
Laughing your respective one off just ’cause I’m getting all the wider!

Didn’t I do all the things ya requested?
Ya know, when I was so much younger and…. Well?
Fasted, toned, honed, ran, whatever fad there was I did do to keep things… fit?
Having them perky edges, standing rather than never around to sit?Starving more likely!
No liquor, no snacks, no sweets, certainly less food… no nuttin’!
Not one single good thing consumed, just illin’!

And so, finally, here is were I stopped
The age slowly seeping in and I ain’t singing!

So yeah, wider!

Gravity, you’re now pullin’ me every which way
Cannot seem to keep my body in one single shape?

Most days waking up with a loud huff and puff
Feeling like a broken down collectable doll or some such
Fitting each part to their constraints
The shatnerish contraptions holding me together in on place
Pulling, pushing, squeezing, nudging, whatever trick to simply fit!
Finally managing to a somewhat of a human form
Guess not really the regular or the norm

But what the hey!
If I can still stand up straight, do the walk
Then yeah, I beat you!
At least for this day!

Sunrise over calm Seas

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“There is nothing better in Autumn, than a calm Fall morning sunrise by the seashore” Gun Roswell

In a hurry, just, like always, so also, this morning
Trying to beat the traffic and get to the seaside before the dawning
To watch, experience and really enjoy, a spectacle, specially arranged by mother nature
But I am so worried, I will be belated
Alas, as I suspected, the time is not, on my side
As I am trying, towards the goal, as fast as possible, to drive
But, since the other drivers, seem to have, the exact same agenda
I worry, that all this hurry, is only going to leave me in one big surrender
And soon enough, my fears are materialized, as all the cars, come, to a full stop
As if by some great plan, they all halt, right there on the dot
Is it a red light or some other type of strife, I wonder just then
Swearing, cussing, under my breath, hoping, wishing, not too much time to spend
In this state of suspension, my face, in a constant animation
Feelings rising, emotions getting spicy
And then, just as all hope had been cast out the window
The line of vehicles gradually start to move
From the rear view window, I can see the water flow
Closer, and closer I slowly like a snail approach
The sun, rising, the reddish glow, reminiscent of a torch
As I am finally reaching the spot, I quickly find the parking lot
Rushing out of the car, I am running, even if it’s not so far
The pier, where all the viewers are now
In awe, admiring the reflected glow
Of the sun rising in this Autumn morning
Could not have asked for a better view for this dawning