The Cardboard Breadman

The Eyes Of A Fool

In my old age, I’m just a man in love;
breaking every life rule;
destiny awaits me; in a kingdom above;
as seen thru eyes of a fool.

Teased by thoughts of lingering romance;
tho my body is breaking down;
I’m simply too

Lonely Within

I find myself living in a lonely season;
and it seems that it never ends;
suddenly devoid of purpose and reason;
a cloud of depression descends.

Why am I still hear; what is my purpose;
why is loneliness meant to be?
When will reason suddenly surface;
granting me

Pride Isn’t Contagious

We watch, as the actor, on stage, takes a bow;
often wishing we could take his place;
most covet success; and they want it now;
though pride is considered disgrace.

Pride isn’t contagious; it’s built within;
confined like a tight fitting sweater;
we want

Joy In The Morning !!!

I awaken this morning with a feeling of hope;
tho life is subtly passing me by;
praying that the Master allow me to cope;
bidding me laugh; not cry.

My life has suddenly become very boring;
a vacation seems a waste of time;
I’m looking

Reality...a step away

We think that we live in a physical world;
living from day to day;
eternity is made up of thoughts, unfurled;
reality… a step away.

We’ve become invested in this life dream;
thinking it will always be;
but, life isn’t at all what it

Victory Is Only A Season

We often scream and shout over victory;
though not understanding the reason;
we think it’s what life always must be;
but, victory is only a season.

For there is a time to laugh and shout;
but there is also a time to cry;
there

Sacrificial Lambs

Where are the victims; in victimless crime;
perhaps they are hidden inside;
abortion is merely a murder sublime;
just ask those victims who died.

Who whispers thoughts of death as a goal;
what form of evil, could conceive;
only the serpent would murder a soul;
compelling the Master

The Blessings of Worry

Many times; I’ve been told not to worry;
that worry never helps anyone;
the stress, that it brings, causes only fury;
with it, nothing gets done.

In spite of it all; I still worry, too much;
perhaps, worry, itself, has a reason;
could it be,