I Don't Wanna Quarrel Poem by John Sensele

God, I don't wanna pick a quarrel
But I ask why you made me so vulnerable
So terrible, so horrible such that the barrel
On a mosquito's muzzle loader feels so uncomfortable.

God, I plead for a respite
To the chain of pains I've endured as I
Traverse years with trite
Benefits that won't fit my cry.

God, I know you gave me goodwill
To accept or intercept challenges you cast my way
From day to day as I labour to strike a deal
That enables me and my stables of fables to pray in strictures bay.

God, did you create me to serrate serenades
To amplify displeasure and dissonance as my pilgrimage unfolds
Or did you assume I mustn't consume different grades
Embellished in creatures and raptures in whose vouchers my fate folds.