The Label Maker

“Labels, are for bottles and containers, not people” Gun Roswell

Hey you with your label maker!
You like tagging people don’t ya, you faker!
You went right by me and took one look
Stuck this sticker on my forehead without a single hook
I am having a hard time getting it off
Did you think it would make a great perma-label on this spot?

But guess what, you nut
I washed my face with potent soap in a rut
With a huff and a puff
My forehead finally crystal clear and clean again
Luckily without the use of acid rain
And nothing of it sticking to my brain

No amount of glue
Will keep the sticker on my face
Your plan went sadly askew
Or were you just in the wrong place
Memorize this lesson
Into your big fat head
Go find some cans for making the impression
And label some of them instead

Beach time! In the middle of… autumn?

“Something odd is certainly going on… as those people, are headed to the beach… but it’s fall…???” Gun Roswell

When the Sunday time, loudly, its present chimed
We ran, like we were on fire, out there, from the dire
Into the open wild nature, with colours so lush
There really was no need for any kind of rush
To enjoy the art work devised by our beloved Mother Nature
Was there for everyone to see, without any kind of fee

But we ran, as fast as any one can, really
For you see, there was somewhere else we wanted to be, really
Beside the calm and cooling waters, fooling around like a bunch of sea otters
We made our way, discarding all clothing, falling where ever they may
Splashing into the soft waves, letting the healing waters save
Ourselves in the process, as this was the place for us, the total bliss

We played and frolicked, until the darkness descended we stayed
Then only, reaching for the softest of sands, lending each other a hand
To find the discarded garments, a little dirty, maybe even sandy, was a mild statement
But nobody cared, as it had all been time so well spent
Out here, on the beach, on this summer’s Sunday we had reached
And if we were to be lucky, maybe next weekend, we could come back again

It’s… a rainbow day!!!

“Sometimes, happiness creeps up in most unusual ways. Look up!” Gun Roswell

The darkening of the evening, had in mind, a big surprise
As I was driving down the slow road, my small eyes spied
Looking up, towards the turning of the skies
Delivered, for only little old me, myself and I
Was the most gorgeous display, on this land side

Rainbow, flashing in so many wonderful colours
I swear, those colours, had clearly detectable odours
Glaring, staring, there, behind the wheel, in total awe
I quickly had the epiphany, i.e a somewhat good thought
Maybe trying to capture the end of the thing on a photograph

Alas, real life is usually much better in realtime vision
And picking up that camera, and driving, was most likely not the best decision
So, pulling aside, at the first option, when it finally arrived
Getting out and up along the curve of the street in five
Then snapping, snapping, snapping away like a child

Well, I did not really find the exact end of the rainbow
Not a pot of gold nor some life lessons for me where told
Alas, the memory of the pretty thing up there in the skies
That will last, for a very, very long and memorable time
And should I forget, well, I have a few blurry snaps to reminisce

Cats and Handbags

“Sometimes, a cat simply needs a walk, but why waste them delicate paws as handbags have been invented!” Gun Roswell


“I keep my cat
In my handbag”

Said the old hag
And, with a snag
Lighting a fag

“It’s not a gag,
so just cut me some slack”

She quickly snapped
As she zigzagged
A price tag
Like a yellow flag
Flashing on her ragtag
And out of fashion coat
Stepping into a boat
Flinging in her large tote
The cat sprung out
And onto the float
In a few quick strokes
She rowed across the moat

Autumn in Suburbia again

“Autumn, is here and it’s pretty, but it’s also getting colder day by day, less of the sun to be seen, guess, this means, it’s time, for some sleep?” Gun Roswell

Early, before the sunrise, alas today, it wasn’t going to smile
The cloud covered, grey and dark in coloured, low hanging skies
Were preparing, for the upon coming time, that of the polar nights

“But, it was just summer!”
Someone prompted like it was a bummer

“Yeah, and soon we will have snow”
The other piled on quickly in the other ones tow

“Quit yammering about the weather you two,
Because soon, it will be too dark and too cold
To even dare to step out from the home old!”
The third ones comment, surely shut their mouths

But whether the weather, was the topic or not
This time of the year, was always, welcomed with a scoff
As slumbering into darkness, was no way to get off

The difference at this time, between night and day
Was hardly visible, to the beady eyes now slain
By the blurred visions, from too long indoors staying

Only the cloudy and grey skies outside remained
And even those ones, who would like to complain
Had to admit, that it was cozy, inside their own domains

After all, this was a yearly thing in stall
For all those small dwellers, up the far north
Pending their time, before the coming of
Some other type of seasonal weather
But that was a topic, after this time, of fall

Taking to the secret path

“It’s hidden, it’s a secret, but, look carefully and you will find it… the secret path.” Gun Roswell

Find the secret path way
Through this world of grey
Where ever it may lay
All you need to do, is play

It may have been hidden
In plain sight
But if the bug, had already bitten
The adventure, already taken flight

With a backpack packed
Nothing will you lack
Make the coloured brick road
Your only goal

It’s gone… sepia?

“There is colour in the colourless, just, take a good look and you’ll figure it out!” Gun Roswell


The faded colour
A reminder of the past
Many nuances to discover
Monochrome to last

Once a colourful picture
A photographer’s signature
Now, maybe a work of art
Or close to someones heart

Leaves on the streets

“Fall is here, and so, as the name says, the leaves will a fall…. every which way!” Gun Roswell

Leaves have fallen on the ground
The sun hanging low in the horizon
The warm colours painting the trees
The warm red as far as eye can see
November’s day cool and crispy
The weather maybe a little misty

Red as in Sunset

“The sky is falling, the sky has gone red! Run for your lives!… oh, it’s just, the sun setting! No worries then!” Gun Roswell

Yellow, orange, red
The colours bled
When the sun sets
There are no regrets
Of the night ahead
A new day is bread
And the sun sets
Again tomorrow

Life in Neon

“Sometimes, one needs a little bit more colour in one’s life” Gun Roswell

Bright lights
Bright colours
Never night
Never duller
When life is
Such a bliss
And filled with
Neon colours