Dead end

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“Arriving at the dead end” Gun Roswell

Dead end

Finally reaching the dreaded end
This will be the place I take my stand
Or then, it will be my own dead, at the end

Making my stance
My weapons drawn
No time to think or talk

The enemy’s approaching
The was no time for backing
Down, I had reached the impasse

Guns a blazing, I am moving in
Firing as fast as I can, no matter if the bullets land
I am in for the win, maybe this is a sin

Smoke and fire, how did I get into this dire
The only thing that matters now, is win or loose, and how
My weapon jams, my bullets are spent

All I see is smoke, but I am hell bent
Charging the opponent, I will not let
Anything rule my life, gotta get out of this strife

Fists punching, mouth biting
I am finally, doing all the fighting
When the smoke clears, I can see it very clear

A mirror in front of me
Staring, an image so familiar to me
My own face, busted

Staring back at me from the mirror rusted
A battle has been done, and it was certainly no fun
The only winner and looser

Am I

Something different

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“And now, time for something completely different” Gun Roswell

Something different

Getting away, from my solitary comfort zone
Feeling the tingling sensation, in each and every bone
I wish I had eaten, that damned scone
Because no I am hungrier, than a queen on her thrown

Something different for today, was on the agenda
But, as hard a I tried, I could not seem to be able to bring back the referenda
Trying hard is easy, they said
But now I’m wishing, I really would get paid

Alas, working for free, is the curse of this writer wannabe
Some might say, I am the ultimate dummy
But, why would anyone one pay for what you can get for free
Even if the charge was just a nominal fee

So, something new an spectacular this ain’t gonna be,
I may be, some kind of scribbler, you see
But tending into my old patterns to hold on
Writing each passage till I am done

You say, I am boring and nothing is good or any fun
It might as well be the Enterprise’s phasers on stun
My advice then is; stop reading my stuff, don’t huff, rather write your own stuff
Then I’ll be the one scolding, the things before me unfolding

Writing is, hard?

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“Am I really a writer? Or simply a pretender?” Gun Roswell

Writing is, hard?

When life sucks
But onward you must
Writing, your only outlet
This is as good, as it gets

Trying to type, not hesitate
But only staring, at a blank slate
Why oh why, did I start so late
Why must each decision require a debate

Life is hard, writing is really hard
But it’s been said, out of hardship you become smart
By now, after all, I should be a genius
So why do I feel like so much less

Am I a writer
Am I a fighter
Sometimes, I am neither
Today, I just sit and stare

Alas

Writing is a piece of cake
Have tiny slice at first, a chapter of the slate
Then another bite, see there was no smite
Now the second verse, goes just like rehearsed

Before you know it
You have a lot to show for it
An empty plate
But a filled up slate

Empty (Haiku) (Seat Sunday)

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“Always waiting for a bus” Gun Roswell

Empty (Haiku) (Seat Sunday)

Seats available at the station
Waiting for the bus for a trip
A vacation before next Monday

My command functions are off-line

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“All command functions are off-line, which usually happens during most days”Gun Roswell

My command functions are off-line

It is, thirty one degrees
Sunshine as far as the eye can see
Hot in the house, hot out side
Contemplating on the dilemma divide

It is summer and July
Should I stay indoors or go outside
Sitting slack by the air cooler divine
And if I don’t move, I am feeling just fine

Alas, it is summer, the time of fun, outside in the warming sun
But, once trying to feel the air with a pinky
Opening the door, the heatwave hits me
Why this is unnatural and does not fit me

There is no way for a northerner to survive
In that weather of plus degrees, remaining alive
When we were built more suited for the opposite scale
And in minus thirty degrees prevail

Slouching in my chair, without any thought or care
I really though it was best to share
Before falling into complete despair
And soon, all my command functions are gone totally offline

Rough terrain

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“A small walk through hell? Keep going!” Gun Roswell

Rough terrain

Walking until the soles of my shoes are gone
Then I will continue, until my bare feet are sore
Despite this rough terrain, it’s really all the same
Sand, rocks, even water, it will all end in a burner

So why do I keep on moving forward then
When there would be much better ways my time to spend
Lazy days on a hammock in the cool shades
Sipping drinks and eating food someone just for me waited

Call it human nature, or just some sort of internal hatred
The have to attitude, without too much platitude
Going on, even if feeling is none too strong
It must be some kind of madness, or maybe, just sadness

Until this all is getting more clear to me
I will just keep going, for you see, it’s so simple and easy
I can always by a new pair of shoes, and start singing the blues
Rough terrain, it may be the same, but I’ve no one to blame

Rocky (Haiku)

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“A pile of something” Gun Roswell

Rocky (Haiku)

Stones in a neat pile
Man made object or work of art
Only nature is that smart

Life is but a Dream

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“Don’t you wish you could live inside of a dream, at least, sometimes?” Gun Roswell

Life is but a Dream

Each night, running away from daily plight
Sitting in my designated spot, trying, not to think, a lot
Watching, my few favourite shows, again, again and again
Seems time a wasted, as in front of the tv only spent
Alas, this is my kind of a drug, trying all, that bothers me away shrug
In my dreams, filled with scenes
From real life and beyond, but this is my way of staying strong
Hoping, sooner not later, living the life instead of catering
Fantasies, unreal things, dreaming of when to sing
Alas for now, life, is but a dream
At least, that is the case for me

Little Miss Perfect

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“Little miss perfect? A total ray of sunshine? Oh really? Oh well, guess I should not be surprised?” Gun Roswell

Little Miss Perfect

I am the one and only
Little Miss Perfect
Everything I do, is perfect
All of me, you see, is perfect
Everyone thinks, I am perfect

So why, do I, feel such a fool
Used, like an old rusted tool
Life really, had me schooled
So why do I act so cruel

I was taught, to be superior
Never sinking, to the level of inferiors
My house, has a great interior
And everyone, admires my exterior

My happy thoughts
May be store bought
But enjoyment they brought
To all reading my blog

I am, the one and only
Little Miss Perfect
I am the perfect product
The perfect product for your use
Use the perfect product, but never abuse

Life on a Merry-Go-Round

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“Take a ride on the merry-go-round, something perhaps lost there to be found, a childhood or a reason for some fun?” Gun Roswell

Life on a Merry-Go-Round

Life is easy as pie
Life is a piece of cake
Oh, for heavens sake,
Life, life is never easy or a piece of cake or pie!
If you believe that, then, my dear friend,
You are living a lie 😉

Life, is more, like a merry-go-round
You get lost, and then again found
Life, can make nice noises and great sounds
But you might end up chasing your tail, like a hound
When in the front seat, you may be pushed, to the background
Riding a high horse like a queen or king, you may be uncrowned
And when you mess around
Be prepared to be driven to the ground

So, stick rules of the playground
Do and say something profound
Never leave too far from the compound
And never, never let yourself to be spellbound

Life is, a play, of merry-go-round