Autumn Leaves

Some think that life’s a competition;
to separate good, better and best;
but life is truly a war of attrition;
dividing those who learn from the rest.

Life isn’t about whether we win or lose;
it’s far more complex than that.
Life is determined by the road

Attitude

Some think that life’s a competition;
to separate good, better and best;
but life is truly a war of attrition;
dividing those who learn from the rest.

Life isn’t about whether we win or lose;
it’s far more complex than that.
Life is determined by the road

And The Pendulum Swings

Making sense of what life is about;
gravity, to circumstance, brings;
waves; coming in; then flowing out;
and reality’s pendulum swings.

We think we can stem reality’s flow;
can change it’s directions, too.
Waves flow; then there’s no place to go;
they have to return to

Scars

My surgery left an ugly souvenier;
at least that’s what I thought;
but, instead it was a message; unclear;
of a lesson my soul has been taught.

We must escape this illusion we hold;
even though we know it will die;
to solve the mystery we must be bold;

The Assignment

I’m in this world on assignment;
I’m a part of the Master’s plan;
I often feel I’m in confinement;
and that’s how my life began.

I’m not here to build, or reform;
others can do both, quite fine;
nor to exhibit frustration, or scorn;

The Artist's Palette

The artist set up his palette with paint;
all the rainbow’s colors were there;
dabbing his brush, showing little restraint;
sending colors descending everywhere.

But more than paint; He also sent sound;
a crescendoing, thundering roar;
everywhere you could see;  all around;
with the finesse of a musical score.

The Artist's Brush

I am an aspiring artist,
painting the world I see;
reality is really just a mist;
I am, what I’m painted to be.

I don’t dab paint on a canvas;
writing is my medium choice;
but still, I am an artist;
words have expressions to voice.

Words turn

The Where

The present has become a poison to me;
its toxic effects cause me despair;
unwilling to endure that past I still see;
and unable to discover the where.

I used to long for a future place;
surely it would be my where;
But I’m unable to reach that space;

Close You've successfully subscribed to The Cardboard Breadman.
Close Great! You've successfully signed up.
Close Welcome back! You've successfully signed in.
Close Success! Your account is fully activated, you now have access to all content.