Mountains Of Stains Poem by John Sensele

The beers of tears I hide
The fingers of fears I feel
The plethora of palpitations I chide
Cauterize the steel in my goodwill.

The more I bite and fight
The less lampoon I weed
The worse the grief compounding my plight
As long as I crucify my Christian creed.

Repentance, for instance, I can't muster
So long as I feel no force of remorse
Flying on broomsticks of a diabolical duster
Whose pins and sins I endorse

In streams of whims
I elevate into a cult
Scheming to disassemble the spiritual teams
I plunge into tongues of tumult

By the brazen bricolage I embrace
To sanitize and satirize societal standards
I denigrate in tresses of the stress
I inflict on Biblical bards

Who enjoin me to reform
When I jeopardize values and beliefs
That in my life have lost the glow of substance and form
To brandish and burnish beef in my sorority skiffs.