“Thy were made by something or someone, perhaps an animal or then, maybe, someone visiting from a far away land, perhaps even not of this Earth?” Gun Roswell
Early morning after a heavy snowfall
The snowy blanket filled with footfalls
The early birds got up for skiing?
And down the snowy road now fleeing?
Or other kinds of unknown beings
Making themselves known?
“Peddle that bike! It’s your only ride! Don’t give up, just huff and puff and make it happen!” Gun Roswell
Ride, ride, ride your bike
Gently up that slippery slope of a hill
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily
Life is pretty chill???
(Not it’s not!)
“The sun never rising? The day dark as night? What is this place? Oh, it’s just Finland during winter times!” Gun Roswell
Darkness surrounding the morning suburbia
No worries, no hurries, no hysteria
Stepping out from the warmth of the bed
Tasks of a working day laid ahead
Moving along with the rising sun
Lots to do before the day is done
“The constructs made all the same, concrete is to blame” Gun Roswell
Structure break down
In this smallest of town
A minor human form
Could be the kind of a norm
In the cold concrete suburbia
“Sit down, take a load off, it’s just a colour, even if painted boldly” Gun Roswell
The only bright spot
In the entire parking lot
In the midst of suburbia
Causing a minor hysteria
The colour of reddest red
Some say, it joy may spread
Carefully trying to sit
Just to see, if it is a fit
After I little while
I started to smile
The colour seemed to be
A perfect choice for me
And soon enough…
As far as the eye could see
All the red painted seats
Were occupied to the extreme
There is just something to be said
Of the colour red
It never leaves you cold
Yes, and I too was sold
“It’s city style! Whoop whoop, whoop!!! Yeah, so totally calling this, city style!” Gun Roswell
I’m spraying my graffiti
Where ever it fits me
On the walls of suburbia
Bringing a sense of hysteria
There is no mystery
Of who I am
Just read my life’s history
Come and catch me if you can
“Pretty, pale, pleasing, the many faces of the moon I am facing, while staring into the night skies” Gun Roswell
The fullest of moons
In the night sky of the suburban hood
The followers about to swoon
Of the rarest form of morphia
The moon’s pale light
Shining upon them with delight
All them smiles
Something so rare and wild!
“Look, through the window, look outside, into, the open world wide!” Gun Roswell
Above these fluffiest of clouds, ever so high
Life, all the way so fast, passing me by
On these biggest of wings, on the fly
Looking out, for any and all of the signs
Of maybe, some kind of, extraordinary life
But, for me, here, today, the only thing I can see
Are the endless mountains and maybe, the sea
In the open waters of the far away archipelago
On an barren island, totally for myself, borrowed
The life, is passing by, so utterly and unbelievable slow
The weather constantly changing, from sun to flow
Of so much rain, against all of the open windows
And, without much of anything, really to do
On this forsaken world and in my small bungalow
A suburban afternoon, spent, inside as once again, barred
From the common place of a playground, on the large yard
So, the only pass time for now, is to watch the life, through
My oh so very small and shadowed window, with a view
But, the place, is seemingly at least for today, deserted
As there are simply, no people or any kind of sounds, reverberated
Through the concrete build, of this community, of suburbia
Waiting, once again, same as every day, for the always delayed lift
After a long and really hard (and absolutely shitty) work shift
Feeling bored, and maybe, this is really not the time for any of it
But I am always interested, in any kind of happening, totally hip
So, once again, spending time, watching, through the panoramic windows
As the lift car downwards shifts and I am able to better see the show
Starting on the streets, at this hour of the ever, life so interesting, I go
And join the others there, instead of just standing by the window and stare
“Sometimes, the coolest places can be found just around the corner, even here, in suburbia, no matter the weather though, as it’s summer!” Gun Roswell
When visiting a neighbouring suburbia
You may end up getting a hernia
When trying some moments to snap
And into the skylights tap
Watch out for the heavy traffic
Or get yourself into something catastrophic
Run over the streets quickly
But keep that camera clicking
Presto and Voila!
Before you get to say ha!
Make sure all your body parts are there
If not, then someone might get a spare
So now, the tours have ended
And indeed, twas time well spent
“The sun is setting, and painting the skies all in shades of red, rather picturesque!” Gun Roswell
The evening sky painted red
Unfortunately it was time for bed
But chose to go out instead
And admire the colourful display
Mother nature had sprayed
From her can of colourful paint
Snapped a few pix
Just for the kicks
Before the nightly eclipse
Rantings Of A Third Kind 
