PREACHER- GOT A MINUTE?

Preacher- you keep preachin’ and talkin’ in my ear;
But why aint your words killin’ none of this fear?
Preacher- you keep talkin’ bout getting spiritual gifts;
But what’s gonna hold me if from God’s will, I drift?
Preacher, you keep prophesyin’ wealth into my soul;
But why, up till now, am I still not made whole?
Preacher, every Sunday, you keep talkin’ at me:
So why, Preacher Preacher, is my soul still hungry?
Preacher, you always tell me bout cars and visas;
What about the souls locked behind the devil’s bars?
Preacher, you yell: “I need a witness in here!”
And you get hype from the man who goes home to a six-pack beer.
Preacher, you say to the sister; her husband’s on the way;
When she gets married, quits church and God;
Preacher, what do you say?
Preacher, your church has faith that all will be well;
How many of them thrive down here; and march on straight to hell?
Preacher, you say that trouble should never be my portion;
So what did Jesus mean when He said I’d have tribulation?
Preacher, your fine messages sure soothe my thirsty ego;
But when I get to Heaven, will I really feel at home?
Preacher, your entourage is impressive, and your moves are dynamic;
But where’s the meekness that made your master visit the poor and the sick?
Preacher, you teach like God’s all about prosperity.
When, Preacher, will you talk about the Man who died for me?
Preacher, your church is dead; and your work is just a game;
Cuz every Sunday, my burden is lifted; but my heart remains the same.


This poem is a cry against churchianity.