Life is a beach 

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“Life on the beach” Gun Roswell

Life is a beach 

When thinking that life is a soft and sandy beach
And you’ll do your damnedest to it early on reach 

Then once you get there, to relax and take a seat
You’ll realise, that staying forever might the perfect image bleach 

So, for now, let’s just make a holiday of it
Forget for a while all that daily shit 

Enjoy the ever fading moments of the promised paradise
Before leaving only to return again, at lest that’s the advice 

And after the thoughts are settled
And you have neatly nestled Just dive into the inviting cool blue waters 
And frolic around there pretending you’re a sea otter 

Waters Edge 

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“Water is refreshing, either drink or shower in it!” Gun Roswell

Waters Edge 


You can clearly hear the roar

From the simple water fall

Wherefrom the fresh water pours

Dip in your toe

Feel the tickling foam

Thinking, to the beach roam 

The idea of cooling water

All over your heated body

Quickly, on the street storming 


The ocean beckons

When the dawn reckons

Finding your place, in mere seconds

Sandy shores, for the eyes sore 

The waters, hitting the rocks, soar

All you need is a boat with oars

Spend a day or a short while

The scenery is sure to make you smile

And only thing wasted is time


Waves washing to the shore 

Like in some ancient lore

Watching, feeling, this feeling

Nothing to be bought from a store

0:47

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“The ominous forty-seven, keeps popping up everywhere, or maybe,  it’s a good sign?” Gun Roswell 

0:47

When the midnight struck

I was running out of luck

I needed to wait

Until, the time was something over forty-eight

But alas I did not well fair



As into the clock I stared

It kept on its timeless ticking

Slowly but surely flicking

And the endless count 

As I started to have my doubts

Finally, the number four appeared

One, two, three, I feared

That the number of eight would never come

And just as I was about to cheer along

Time stopped:

Just, at zero zero forty-seven

Surely, this wasn’t, heaven?

World Upside Down

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“No matter which way you look at it, the world is always crocked, having been turned upside down, the moment it was found, by someone, sailing the seven seas, well, something like that“ Gun Roswell

World Upside Down

The world can easily be on the level or then, simply upside down,

It all depends whether you are looking at it, with a smile or a frown,

There is nothing level about it, even the horizon, a squiggly line,

But hey, if you can keep your feet on the ground, it’s all simply fine,

Because it does not matter whether all of it is up or down or other way around,

As long as you can live with it, on it, around it, then hey, that is the best state found,

So, no matter what others say out loud, you should always hold your own ground,

A totally level and a straight line, does not exist, it’s all a myth and they all know it too,

And from now on even if hanging upside down, in a world the other way around,

Well, it’s all crocked anyway, and so, just hang in there and gently sway!

Life in a Fishbowl

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There’s such a fragile, thin veneer of illusion between the words “together” and “alone”.”
― Bradley Somer, Fishbowl

Life in a Fishbowl

Feeling glamourous
Standing tall
In this tiny fishbowl
I call home

Not so average
These see-through walls
Like a giant peep hole
In the twilight zone

Needing some leverage
I built a space small
Where my tired soul
Had time for its own

Now the damage
Of this famous ball
Is under control
And I, am finally, alone

Flying up high is a dream for some of us

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“Flying? Ain’t nuttin’ to it! Just spread your wings, start running and lift off! That is if you are a bird of course. If you’re stupid human? Guess what? You’re grounded. For good.” Gun Roswell

Flying up high is a dream for some of us

Being afraid of heights might just bring up the plight for some of us

But then there are those of us who dream to get up high as the birds fly

It might be a hard and even an impossible a task to do

Without the wings to support and lift off the heavy body

Alas the solution might just be simple, even if somewhat costly:

Buying tickets to a machine which does the work for you

So get on the that aeroplane and on the wing side stay

And for a moment feel like you are alone up there

Down, down, all the way I float

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“Down the watery drain? Or at least down a very slippery and deep slope? That’s life, am I right“ Gun Roswell

Down, down, all the way I float

The slippery slope ahead, something for a while having feared

But taking control of that beast, the one whom keeps me telling there is not sleep

Not until one of the greatest of them all has finally been conquered

The one of looking down, with falling into the deep, deep under ground

Still, the fear holds its tight grip across the beating chest

And with the pounding of the muscular thingy keeping myself still alive and singing?

Well, what do I do, what else can I do?

Jump! Like a kangaroo or some other kind of loon

Diving right into the blue hues, for this eternal fear to lose

And soon too?

Alas, the feet needed for the venture won’t respond 

As here on the ledge I still stand not known right from wrong

Someone please, help me to release this feeling

Of sinking if I go all the way in

Eyes closing, breathing slowing and without warning

I take flight and into the waters waiting dive

The long but short way down fearful of only to drown

One splash two splash three splash!

Onto the calming cool surface

Under water remembering to keep by breath like an otter

Diving, smiling, diving further, then up up all the way up

With a huff and a puff head, body still in tact

Gone, all but gone is that damned fear

Conquered by shedding just a few more tears

Broken not sad

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“Broken, discarded, un-mendable, never gonna work again like it did, still, it might be useful is someone only had the effort to un-break it?“ Gun Roswell

Broken not sad

Even the most worst shaped broken parts can be fixed, if the will is there

All ti takes is one to believe, it can be done, the effort to the work hardly a dare

Simply picking up the right tools and making the first move

The time spent on it well worth the longer wait 

Then soon enough, a working cog is out there spinning around

Like it never had been broken in the first place

Life, is a recycle

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“The cycle of life, birth, living, death, a few the smiles, the eternal strife, it’s all simply, a form of things being recycled, am I right?” Gun Roswell

Life, is a recycle

They say all the intellectual properties have all already been done, by the selected few masters, perhaps in the very past, but maybe something new maybe there also and then retweeted by the masses.

Whether it is a simple repost of someone stating something great or even cheering for hate, there are those reposting, everything. Recycling every single word and picture found out there, on the world wide web.

It might be even someone you idolise, having said or done something clever, like your neighbours cat or Baby Yoda, whomever… But the internet of things, where we so much time spend is basically just that, recycling everything and anything.

The same can be said for life.

Whether it is poor choices or old memories, reliving those special and not so special events. Or then simply going through the daily grind, the supposed life.

It’s all the same really, just think about it: Sleep, eat, rinse and repeat. 

And if lucky enough somewhere there smack in the middle of it, maybe having some new idea, a break from the ideal, a trip or a party perhaps?

In school the teachers taught as all they know? Maybe, at least, some of the things, making the information flow, circling around and to everyone.

We as adults move along, repeating the steps of others, our parents, grandparents and so on. Then as parents pushing the learnt knowledge to our offspring, the cycle continues…

At work reusing the already invented and proven processes and methods, as why invent the wheel, it is round anyway and well, a circle. Moving along, in rounded circles.. see the repeating theme here?

Then the trash, yeah, that is the ultimate recycle! But that is a whole other tale, all the stuff we accumulate… and then throw away. Perhaps try not to do that to our lives?

In the end, its all just fine, admitting to it and then moving along with the circle of life! Heck, even the name says it all. Circle, life, recycle?

And so, whatever your belief or faith might just be, in the end, life itself might just repeat after death, a total and complete recycle of beings.

I myself, will certainly want to come back as a cat, that much is sure, as having all the internet cheering for me just being me! But then I would not care about any kinds of cycles, re or not. Except perhaps for a ball of yarn, that’s circular, right?

Plotting, planning, always writing

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“There is just something so freeing in writing by the seat of your pants, the flow simply pouring into any tale possible… but the editing of said supposed masterpiece is pure hell!” Gun Roswell

Plotting, planning, always writing

The guidelines for any good writing, apparently are those of careful planning, plot devising and character development, not to mention world building and keeping it in the rigid story structure as taught by the myriad of books out there for novice and even the more advanced writers and those whom are still searching for their, thing?

Sure, but if those same teachers also urge the bard to write what they know? About their lived life, the things around them, the daily grind? Well, then far off are we as life, really has no such structure. Unless you count the birth, living and death as such, a three act structure perhaps?

But then, how can you write that story if you are still living?

Okay, taking things to the very extremes as this author usually tends to do, no matter life, writing or well, plotting the secret world domination…oops, that one was supposed to be a secret? Guess the cat is once again popping out of the bag eh?

But I do digress.

The type of writer, no matter what the books, the tubes, the articles might just suggest are only guilders, recommendations. After all, writing, is an art form along any other similar activity. And whether you prefer to write whatever pops up into your wicked little mind and do not care about plotting, planning and such, then you are as correct to be doing so as those whom simply love to plot and plan and whatnot.

It’s all good, as long, as you keep on, writing.

As there is no right or wrong way, to simply sit down and write.