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Desire Not - Decay Not

The mind can be so wonderful,
Made for doing good,
When used for serving others,
And doing what we should.

But the head is stubborn,
It wants its sinful way,
Perverting all that's natural,
It lets the mind decay.

The skull is thus appropriate,
(Its bowl-like shape and form),
For feeding worms, once in the grave,
A brain that fed on p*rn.
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Submitted on September 25, 2015

18 sec read

Russell Ritchey Claim this poet

The poetry I write, when I write, is an expression of who I am, my Christian beliefs, my dreams and my regrets, my joys and my sorrows...I have many base motives, I concede, but I continue to practice my rhythmic art in hopes that pure motives coexist, or will come along in time, and my skills will be up to the opportunity whenever, and if ever, it presents itself.In the meanwhile, my poetical expressions are like little emolcanic eruptions that provide periodic venting and release (and practice) which enables me to share my life's experience with not only the many others in my own human condition but myself as well, as I reflect back and peer forward and am able to see right here and now the base clay that I am, as it is forming, and the 'vessel of honorable use' I hope to have become wherever my story is told, if not in this world, then in the world that is awaiting beyond this great mundane. more…

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