Wicked Whims Poem by John Sensele

A tear tumbles down
If I don't quit cavorting on the fringe
Where failures my efforts drown
When I persist in drowning sorrows in a binge

Placing my fate into hands of humans
Whom I glorify
To place on a pedestal man's
Limited strength which prayers mollify

When pushed to wrong limits
Hugging dust
Hiding in permits
Faith doesn't trust

Especially when cultism
Grows to extremes
Promoting occultism
Which yields nothing from wicked whims

Pushing me into despair
From which I won't emerge
Unless relationship with God I repair
As faith and belief urge.