Poetry

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The fruit of the flesh
In doubt enmeshed
Clad in a robe of selfishness
Flourishes in unforgiveness

Digs the grave of its owner
Dances with danger and anger
Throws arrows of sorrow
Worries about tomorrow

The fruit of the flesh...

Breaks the rules to win
Wallows in any sin-bin.
It is forged, fomented
And fermented in fear.

Buddies with impatience
Cheers indolence
Shuns excellence
Entertains disunity,
Marries immorality
Begets folly

The fruit of the flesh...

Has no boundary
Quick to be angry
Out of control
Loves to be on the dole
Drinks foolishness
Eats the bread of bitterness

Always on the run
Speaks out of turn
Jumps the cue
Sings the blues
Dances out of step with the Word
Repeats everything it heard.

The fruit of the flesh...

Lives in the house of obsession
Bathes in the stream of delusion
Has overrunning lips
Gathers and sips gossips
Follows every trend
Murders his best friend

Never sees beyond the natural
Focuses on the temporal
Rarely seeks God’s face
Gives Him a second place
Feeds Him with the left-over.
And toys with divine cover

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