Super Woman!

“I am not saying I am Wonder Woman I am just saying no one has ever seen me and Wonder Woman in the same room”


Super Woman

Let’s rebuild her to a


Better than she was before
Someone truly to be adored
A extraordinary superhuman
An absolute wonder woman

We have the technology
Never mind the theology
Using finest neurology
Without a doubt or apology

To be

“Oh, wait just a minute!”

“What’s wrong?”

“We don’t have enough power!”

“We don’t?”

“No, we used it all to juice up the last superwoman wannabe.”

“OK, patch her up then and send her on her way!”


The Coffee Monster

“The monster in me, before coffee, believe you me, you really do not, want to see” Gun Roswell

The Coffee Monster

In the early morning hours, the alarm went off, waking up, with a large yawn
It was that time of the day, too early to be frank, when it’s still not quite dawn
The darkness, lying heavy and so, are all the eye lids
At this point, when nothing yet works, all you want to do is quit
And then, the monster within, rearing it’s true and ugly nature
Everyone and everything, even the mirror image filled with hatred
Better steer clear of it, or else, some heavy duty shit
Will be thrown upon you, with words, carefully not chosen nor chewed

“Do not speak, do not question
Do not even try to give one single silent suggestion
For this, is the way of the coffee monster
And, as the feelings of evil getting stronger
Until the time of the daily doze
Please, do not, try, to oppose!”

Because, only when the calming liquid has done it’s job
And the changes are so visible, like the turning of a knob
The beast within finally sedated, only smiley faces remaining
You may approach, even join in the early morning session
Of having a cup (or few) of the now, sanctified blessing
But do not think for a moment, that the monster is gone
Because if, heaven for bid, the coffee would be lost, or somehow gone
The monster will return, and this time rest assure
That no one, not a single coffee less person, will be safe!


“With age comes wisdom… Yeah, right! So not true! I am as stupid as I have ever been.” Gun Roswell


“Years just keep passing by… twenty-nine, twenty-nine, twenty-nine…
Oh, wait, what year is this?
Holy shit, I am over fifty… one, two… Oh, never mind!”

Age is just a number and all the rest of the cliches, which all those nice quotes in cards keep telling me. Feeding me, with false sense of hope, that getting older, and even each dammed year (unfortunately, like Mondays, which pop up every week, birthdays too creep around the corner each year, no matter how hard you try to deny them, or push them away) will somehow make me wiser, more comfortable, more mature, more of everything really. But, all I feel, still, is the same insecure little toddler I was all those years ago (no, still not counting).
But, here I still am, waiting, patiently (read impatiently) for the promises of age to come true. Should I maybe someone sue?

“Act your age!”

Another thing I do hear a lot too. So, when I ask the person who just scolded me.

“How old do you think I am?”

They just stare at me and don’t really know the answer to that. Well, imagine the shock when I reply.

“I am nineteen.”

After some consideration, the response might be something like.

“Oh, well, looks like you really had a rough life then.” or “A tad of the weary side, or rundown maybe.”

So, what,
If I am feeling like a youngster in my wanna be teenage fashionable clothes and, then, making jokes, suited for a person, of a middle school level, when I should be dressed in business casual, retorting funny anecdotes from some adult reading proved magazine.
So what,
If I laugh out loud after reading some not so funny thing, while on a bus, when everyone else is so quiet and sulking, because the weather is bad or life just sucks (especially Finns, they never really socialize. I should know for I am one of them).
So what,
If I like to do some hopscotch or the level of my conversation is better understood by some five year old at the yard than the up stuck colleagues from work.
So what,
If I don’t feel my age, act stupid sometimes (read: a lot of times), sulk and pout like a two year old if I don’t get my way.
So what,
If I am fifty-four (yes, i did the math), like the latest gadgets, dress in colourful clothing and go out dancing, beating even the younger people at their game of staying up all night

OK, so some days, I feel like nineteen, others like one hundred and ten, but all and all, pretty good, for any age. Talk to me about age again, when I turn one hundred and fifty-four, then we really have something compare, but for now, it’s just guess work really, because I, am just, fifty four 😉


“What the hell? It’s August already, and soon, it will be December!” Gun Roswell


It’s gone!
over half way,
in just,
a small blink,
of my eye

Oh shit!
the time,
does fly!

August, you sneaked around the corner so fast
Having the power of a major bomb blast
Kicking me right there, in the very gut
Did you really think, it did not matter so much?

April, May, June, July
All those names of months, were just fine
So, why oh why, did you have to come by?
I was just preparing for summer, only to realize
It had so quickly, so unnoticed, going, going
Until gone and December will be there, so very strong

What remains for me now?
I don’t have a clue and most likely will have a cow
Well, she is standing there in the meadow
Blissfully ignorant of the eternal rant
Of seasons changing and soon, indoors
Poor her, too, will be closed

So, fair warning, dear August
Do not try to change the weather to gust
I had enough of that with plenty of dust
Let the nature and my mood be in summer
For a while longer before that old bummer
Winter strikes and then, I will loose this fight

The end,
of the year
is near
even though,
you might state,
it’s not too late,
as it’s still,
only half way,
plus a few,
before it is,
two thousand,
and twenty


Friday comes, but once in a week!

“Thank goodness, it’s finally Friday, ’bout bloody time!” Gun Roswell

Friday comes, but once in a week!

Friday, at last, this week, could not have gone any faster
Faster, as I very well know, will this day end too
Too, and then “boohoo” I cry, but hey, that is just fine
Fine, as I know, there will be another Friday
Friday, which unfortunately only comes, one a week

Week, is such a dreary measure
Measure, like a year or even a hundred
Hundred, is the number of the percent
Percent, which I always give this day
Day, unlike so many others consists of hope
Hope, so hard to find these days
Days, gone by, but hopefully plenty ahead
Ahead, like the word hope, wish, what ever
Ever, I wish Friday here to stay
Stay, please stay, I totally pray
Pray, like you are a deity or something so great
Great, better than anything else
Else, is where I usually am
Am, exist, being, living, solely for Friday
Friday, oh how I love you
You, this, feeling which you can only bring
Bring little ol’ me, each and every week
Week, oh, were are back to this again
Again, and in circles I run until
Until I come to the end of this poem
Poem, so yeah, guess I have a thing for Fridays then!

Hey, it’s Friday, and there is a party, at my house, if you can find it, that is 😉

Well worth the wait

“Call it what you will, I call it, a life savior” Gun Roswell

Well worth the wait

I was struggling, I was tired, I was totally beaten
As if life itself, somehow, had me completely cheated
I was anxious but confused, I was restless but still so used up I could hardly move
To be honest, I had completely and utterly lost, my groove
So, now, what to do?

Then, a sweet tempting scent
Up to my nostrils and into my brain went
I felt the lure of the smell so pure
So refined, so totally divine, it could only be something so fine
And i knew then, that without it, I would most certainly, die

Getting up, slowly, but surely walking towards the heavenly scent
Don’t care even if I need to have my last dime spent
But I know I want it, I need it, and I am determined to get it
And as I finally wrap my hands around the most precious gift
I will know, it will well be worth the wait

It is, About As Funny, As A Root Canal!

“Born With Teeth” Kate Mulgrew


It is, About As Funny, As A Root Canal!

You know
That feeling
In the chair
Is not fair

At the ceiling
Your skin
Waiting for
The drilling
To begin
The sound
In your skull

Totally bound
With feelings
Of dull
An escape
At the window
For a cape
Like a superhero
Flying away

No time
The Dentist
Your eyes
With sunglasses
In a quick pace
Before I
Can plot my

My mind
Wandering to
Am I
Loosing it?
Would be
The last thing
I needed

Like an ape
Not a chance
In a deep
Or a drug endused

After all
Is done
I had
A gun
Cooling down
Getting up
A sick

A glance
In the mirror
And blood
On my face
Must be
An error
My head
With a hood

Leaving quickly
No looking
Oh what
A quack
Never mind
It’s all over
Next time

You hear
It’s as funny
As A root canal
Time to fear
And run
As fast
As you