“It’s okay to be blue, at least on Mondays, in November.” Gun Roswell
Sky, water and horizon
Even the distant island
Cannot resist the moment
The moment of blue
Blue is a Moment
The sun, is setting…
“From the busy streets, towards the calm beach, that is the goal in life” Gun Roswell
I see the image in my very mind, it’s something unique, someplace to unwind
The colours changing now, from green to a coolest blue, some kind of hue
But then, like a sharpened photograph, everything is in my grasp.
The shining sun, rising high above, the breeze so low, the pace so slow
The turquoise waters glimmering, I wish I could swim in them
I run as fast as I can, then on to the sandy beach I land
At this point I don’t care if it is a dream or someone’s bad joke or scheme
I shed my clothing, boots and all, and into to the soft waves I let myself fall
Getting carried away to the wide open seas, where nothing and no one else do I see
Only sounds made are those of seagulls, flying high above my skull
This is bliss, this is calm, this is what I seek, this is what I want
And then, I wake up, as the car beside me honks
“Move it of lose it bozo!” I hear
Yes, I am back in the noisy street I fear
Until next time, when I dare to dream
As life never really is what it seems
The journey begins…
“The destination really isn’t as important as what happens on the journey to get there, the anticipation of what awaits ahead, the ever changing vistas and methods of travel, the people met along the way… It’s all part of the whole.” Gun Roswell
Flying across the skies
Waiting for the price
At the end of the station
A promised vacation
The journey taken
Was not a long one
Each morning awoken
To the rays of the sun
Surrounded by history
Shrouded in mystery
Time spent on the beach
Bliss at hands’ reach
Enjoying each day
Life a large buffet
From the darkening skies into the light
“Trying to reach the lighter side while flying towards the sun, can be hard“ Gun Roswell
The wings heavy and exhausted from flying all through the night, but the fight to survive is far from over. Or at least, that is how it feels, as the only thing this winged being wants to do, is to get into the bright light of the day, wherever it may lay ahead, at least that is the hope for the weary traveller up high in the skies.*
But what happens when the darkness finally ends? After having so much time inside there spent, can the light really be the long awaited saviour our winged friend was looking for all this time? Is the feeling they had been looking for simply fine? Basking there, in the eternal light, without any strife the best way of living it, only nice?
Well, guess we will never find out the total truth as some of us prefer the lure of darkness, the shadows so safe, there is simply no way, letting in that bright and shiny sun into the corners where we, the dark dwellers
Airfields in the middle of the cornfields
“Flying off to foreign lands or simply hovering above familiar land, take yourself to the airfield in the middle of no where and take flight” Gun Roswell
While visiting the side of the country
Where the lush green remains for eternity
The fields filled with produce as far as the eyes can see
Isn’t this totally the lace for anyone for a weekend to flee
Peddling, rowing, running or just walking
When al the nature’s offerings gently stalking
But then something completely different comes to view
In the middle of the fields with a very light hue
Shimmering in the bright summer’s sunlight
Your mind immediately starts to fantasise and then takes flight
And soon enough your body can make that come true too
Because you have just stumbled upon a small airfield designed for two
Jump in and on board
This short flight you really can afford
As soaring above the countryside for a while
Will totally put you in awe with a great big smile
Our Feathered Friends
“They’re just there doing their thing, frolicking in the tall winds, catching fish from the seas, our feathered friends, the dinosaurs of today” Gun Roswell
Our feathered friends
The windy air bend
Flying to the world’s end
For their leisure time to spend
Life in a circle of a window
“The looking glass of the world below as seen through the very small window of an airplane mid-flight” Gun Roswell
The view from above
From the port window
Flying up high
Up in the blue sky
Close to the exit
Going through the checklist
Just in case…
Nightfall wingside
“It’s night time up in the air, the passenger falling asleep, one by one, the hum of the engines the only sound present, sunset, until, the rising sun” Gun Roswell
Sunrise or sunset
High up for a reset
Destination, unknown
Flying, to a different zone
A new year
New destinations
There is no fear
Only new sensations
Staring out the window
Reflections of the past and now
Mirrored in the looking glass
Knowing only, time will pass
New year
New hopes
Prepaired on full gear
Despite the slippery slopes
Mid Flight
“The wings spread, the wind beneath holding great guiding ever upwards, nose straight, looking ahead, the destination really not set, as it’s just about the flight, nothing else” Gun Roswell
Flying through the air
Without a single care
A beauty with flare
Innocence unaware
Flapping her wings
While the wind sings
Sky feels like spring
A scene well worthy
Of kings
It is About As Funny As A Root Canal – it hurts!
“Something about the teeth and all that, perhaps flying high because of treatments and drugs and whatnots involved, seeing the Tooth Fairy at the end of it all?” Gun Roswell
You know
That feeling
Lying
In the chair
Thinking
Life
Is not fair
Staring
At the ceiling
Anticipating
Sweat
Covering
Your skin
Waiting for
The drilling
To begin
The sound
Resonating
In your skull
Totally bound
With feelings
Of dull
Contemplating
An escape
Looking
At the window
Wishing
For a cape
Like a superhero
Flying away
No time
The Dentist
Hovering
Covering
Your eyes
With sunglasses
Working
In a quick pace
Before I
Can plot my
Break
My mind
Wandering to
Molasses?
Am I
Loosing it?
Completely
Sugar
Would be
The last thing
I needed
Mouth
Agape
Drooling
Like an ape
Fooling
Not a chance
In a deep
Trance
Or a drug endused
State
After all
Is done
Wishing
I had
A gun
Somehow
Cooling down
Getting up
Staggering
Reeling
A sick
Feeling
A glance
In the mirror
Spittle
And blood
On my face
Must be
An error
Covering
My head
With a hood
Leaving quickly
No looking
Back
Oh what
A quack
Never mind
It’s all over
Until
Next time
When
You hear
It’s as funny
As A root canal
Time to fear
And run
As fast
As you
Can
Rantings Of A Third Kind 
