I write, therefore I am?

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“Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing” Benjamin Franklin


I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t writing.

I did my first “screenplay” at the age of five with crayons and forced my whole family to watch the Christmas play I wrote, produced an ven acted in too! Later in my teens, I started writing fan fiction for my favourite shows on television, way before the internet, fan fiction as such and even personal computers were invented. I loved the weekly challenges for writing in school and of course, I was a book junkie too.

Writing for me has been sporadic at best and I mostly consider myself a closet writer. I am in the closet, out of the closet, back in and now finally out again, publishing on the internet as much and as often as humanly possible 😉

I am also a poet, and did not know it: True in many ways, as I write from anything and everything. My inspiration can be a phrase I heard on the lift ride or something from the morning radio. Mainly, these days, I get inspired from the pictures I take.

For me, personally, writing is an creative outlet for the mundane working day. If I do not write, I am be a very, very, very cranky person ;P

My motto is: A poem a day, keeps the mental doctor away!
The second motto is: Write more, complain less!

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I am alive?

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“Funny, how that thing did and happened?” Gun Roswell

Alive?

I am only alive when 

Writing?

A story, a tale or a poem perhaps?

Until that time, I am gone
Existing, elsewhere?

Out there, in the stratosphere?

Is this, a simulation?

Real life or some memory?

But I am still, alive…

…Right?

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Sailor and a Writer

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“I’m a writer and, therefore, automatically a suspicious character” Sir Alfred Hitchcock

Looking into
A writers mind
You may phew
On what you find

Look in,
Carefully

Surprisingly
Lurking
Emerging

A

Tinker, Tailor,
Soldier, Sailor,
Rich Man, Poor Man,
Beggar Man, Thief

Peeping Tom, Stalker
Pervert, Prude 
Sister, Brother
Loud Mouth, Mute

A

Antagonist
Protagonist
Killer, Saviour
Bad behaviour?

Winner, Looser
Coward, Hero
Or simply a Zero?

Storyteller, Liar
Truth teller, Denier

A questionable character?
Or just a clever Actor?
Psychopath,
Or, on a Path?

Writer, Politician, or a Crook?
Did I get you hooked?

WordPress Blog Anniversary!

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…what a ride it has been!
and so, the journey continues…

A huge big thanks to all my readers, my friends out here in the World Wide Web of things!!!

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

Thoughts on the Day of Birth

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“Even the Eternal Entity needs a day of… rest?“ Gun Roswell

Thoughts on the Day of Birth

Eternal or not

Cartoony or Spock

Sometimes life is a lot

Alas, happier thoughts

Despite the weight

Of one more year of age

Be it on the waist

Or somewhere else 

The eyes still see

The heart still feels

The brain… 

…well, that is a whole other can of worms

Literally, don’t even try to check it out

Alas, I digress!

Happy something something day

To the one who wrote this poem to celebrate!

Cake? 

Coffee?

Yes please! 

And keep it pouring at least

Until the clock chimes twelve

On the twenty-seventh 

(The day of hell???)

Young, old, eternal, in prime?

We all need our day to shine!

Writer, heal thyself

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“A writer’s life is never an easy one, the lonely and solemn state, lost in one’s own head every single day… but what if I like it there, inside of the made sphere?“ Gun Roswell

Writer, heal thyself

The made up words with the made up characters inside of the made up world inside of the mind of the writer

Going in deeper, never leaving the comfortable familiar place, the outside is there and outside it will remain

Living in one’s own head, night and day, never easy alas it is what this choice came with and what to except

The life of a writer, being everyone and everywhere all at once even if never really leaving the made up place up in the head 

As there it is where they belong, the stories being told even if none of them are the writer’s own.

Some kind of STREAK going on, on WordPress!?

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They said go create a blog, they said write each day and then you can finally say:
I am on a STREAK! But what does it really mean?

Well, better keep on writing, as there is no fighting, the STREAK!

Them voices (in my very own head)

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“Those voices, in my head, are plotting, once again, and I’m about to find out what it is, soon enough” Gun Roswell

Them voices (in my very own head)

All the loud sounds and constant chatter, in my poor mind, do clatter
The small world inside of my head, a unique ecosystem, and instead
Of letting me sit her in quiet esteem, seem to be letting, it all free
And having a ball, on this day I was supposed to have a very short
Break of it all, alas, they, living inside, do, beg to differ in the decision I made
And now they are all singing and shouting and all the bad jokes sprouting
A full on cacophony, I say out loud, to those, close by, who cannot be swayed
Of the inner voices, inside of my very own scrambled brain, and, it’s always, the same
An outside argument and an internal turmoil, leaving me, to completely and utterly boil
Why oh why, did I think, today of all days, would be any different, so to my friends
Up there having, such a ball: shut up, so I can have an entitled and a very small
Pause, a breather, a nap even, anything at all to stall, but not an argument with either
Those out here and you all, inside there, as I just want some time of total QUIET!
For a little while at least, while I am lying here, trying, to relax, in my own, stratosphere

But the it all goes so quiet, even those outside are looking at me without smiling
And I know something is going on, for this is never good, the silence after all
Because then, I don’t really hear, what they ALL, are most certainly against me plotting
And I know one thing, it’s never, ever good, to be, in total silence, and thinking
So, please, I beg of you all, make some noice, anything at all, for I, am getting bored