“Midday sun high up in the sky above us” Gun Roswell
Sun burning with full force
Searching for cooling shade, without any delay
Lucky me, nearby restaurant located
You say potato I say tomato
“Listen to what I say, or don’t, is all good!” Gun Roswell
If you listened to me carefully, and really heard what I said
Then the tomato would not have turned into a potato in your head
So, I said pick to some apples and a few oranges, from the top branches
And you heard that part and then to make it to squash,
Even though I told you, to make a nice fruit salad, not down the drain wash
My every word twisted, wrong quotes listed
Sometimes I wonder, what language am I speaking, if any at all
Maybe it would be better, to not utter any words at all
My dilemma now going viral, my sayings world wide spiral
I was under the impression my brain mouth coordination was on the level
Instead every thing out of my mouth causing dishevel
Should I sing and do a dance number instead
Would everyone just be merry and clap and not chew my head
For now, I just keep on saying tomato
If you think it’s just my bravado
The I will let you that just think and hear
I, will say my thing and not hide in fear
Bad thing happen to those who wait
“No good deed ever goes unpunished”
If you think about it hard enough
Continue pacing, with a huff and puff
How life sucks and your left on the docks
The negatives will be knocking on all doors
Keep feeling those ugly feelings
And soon you’ll have the dealings
Of bad things coming your way
Played a card wrong, and most likely to stay
Good things happen to those who wait
Bad things happen when you hesitate
Carrying around all the baggage
World and all, in a large piece of luggage
If you want advice
Then this is not the place
I suggest, taking a short walk
To the end of a very long pier
Put all the hate, anger and fear
On top of the box you carried so long
Tie a rope around it all
Push the box into the water really strong
Into there yourself, don’t fall
Now walk back, don’t look back
See how light it is on your back
Step is lighter too and outlook better
Now why the hell did you let it all so long fester?
This is a question for you and me
For you see
That person, is really me
Outside dining (haiku)
“If it’s good weather, eat outside (in snow)“ Gun Roswell
A table set for dinner
Great food and delicious drinks in abundance
Eating outside a must tonight
I am so evil it kills me, or so they say
“I’m not evil, I was just photographed this way, on this display ” Gun Roswell
I cannot fit any type, how ever you want to describe
I am not so good, but not too bad either, I just give out that vibe
There is no stereotype big enough
To catch and box my ego, yeah, it’s that tough
Being oneself should be the goal
Not being afraid of making a foul
Labelling someone evil, just because the have a little diva
Inside of them which shows, and with a bow all to them give ‘ya
Evil or not, I will not stop
Being myself, the ultimate pop
If you want to keep up the plot
Then let me be the star on top
Prick me and I will bleed, for my blood is red indeed
Throw your sticks and stones, they may indeed break my bones
But with a bandaid and crutches
I will soon again rise above your clutches
Jane of all trades, master of none
“I know a little of everything, that is my weakness” Gun Roswell
Dabbling here, doodling there
Building something, out of spares
Always learning, never complete
Not really sure as to what I seek
All kinds of knowledge filling my mind
Too much data to totally unwind
Many tasks I can do, but utter knowledge of only a few
So many interests all around, it wouldn’t be fare to just one choose
Spreading thin across the board
Never really gotten the highest score
Teaching others and learning more
But oh where can I all this store
A Jane of all trades looks good on a resume
But a master of none, can be a pain in the butt-e
Knowing less would most likely be better
If I really was the ultimate go getter
But the title fits so I’ll wear it proudly
Sometimes, even shouting it out loudly
Truth been told, this merry world would be less bold
If the only populous, was a race of masters in a fold
A curse poem
“I curse, a lot” Gun Roswell
What the fuck???
This really sucks
Just go to hell
And break the damned spell
This isn’t a pissing contest
But i’m never really honest
So what ever hits the fan
Maybe shit or something
I really can’t understand
Why the fuck
You complain a lot
So what, if I am a bitch
I’ve earned it
You are all bastards
And few of you are assholes
So you can all bugger off
Hey, did you just call me a cunt?
What is the fun in that you twat?
Oh holy crap on a crapper!
What a mother fucker
You really are!
Holly hell, batman and bollocks
This goddamned poem
Is not going so fucking well
Sweet Jesus and son of a gun
I am still having fun
Cursing is what i do do
When I don’t act
Like some stupid asshole
Today
“I am so totally lazy!” Gun Roswell
Today,
I have accomplished
Absolutely nothing
No words spoken
No shower taken
No food eaten
Today,
Is not a such
A very good day
No tv watched
No beauty tip botched
No chore touched
Today,
Is almost gone
And so am I
Winter is here to stay
“Sometimes, it just surprises you, overnight, the snow has fallen.” Gun Roswell
Enjoyed the fall
On many a stroll
At the door
Winter is here, never knocking, just appeared
With white
Everything blocking
Suburban Winter
“Snow on the outside? Cold outside? Below freezing temperatures? What on world is that all about? Duh – Winter!” Gun Roswell
Opening the front door to a brand new world or so it seems, as if into some fantasy kind of a strange world, I had been over night suddenly hurled?
Looking all white and crispy, with a clean and glittering cover on top, all places in the same shade, nothing dirty or misplaced, as only this gorgeous cover of the winter had been smote all over the globe, well at least on this part here, way, way up in the North.
And even if this last for a long long while, longer than the accompanying smile of all the dire the cold weather front will bring with it, and the summer season is totally short, that will elicit a soft snort in sarcastic tone, as it can hardly be called a season, rather a sense of treason as it last so short, but the winter, well, it is still pretty and fun, at least for the while and in the pictures and poetry, perhaps also as an excuse to remain indoors most of the time.
But for us tough Northerners, this is the way of life, and well, it might be a strife, but it’s nice to curl up inside with the warmth of the comfy fire right beside, and then do absolutely nothing, for a while at least, because winter, gives the excuse to anti socialise!
Rantings Of A Third Kind 