undress me
furnish me with pure alcohol
caffeine is too temperate for me
as are the sermons at the rectory
where the laity get high on preaching
but lectures will not save me or them
merely leave me grasping
rasping for oxygen rich air
just cover me over
that’s my only prayer.
-A J WILSON
Angela, (who writes as A J Wilson), was born and lives in rural North Wales, the UK. She has been published in a number of magazines, including Ink Drinkers Poetry, Write On Magazine, Visual Verse, Spillwords, amongst others, and recently her writing has featured in two anthologies. She is currently compiling her work for her first poetry collection. Please visit Let’s Write…… to read more about her and her writing.
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Chewers & Masticadores // Editora: Nolcha Fox 
Angela’s lovely poetry is a stark depiction of the contrast between reality and ideality. If preaching could save souls, then so many wouldn’t be condemned to lift the burden of life upon their tired backs. Honesty is always brutal and those who aren’t afraid to speak it are their own rebellious saviors. I’d cover them with my prayers any time.
Congratulations Angela!
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Wonderful.
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I love how this seems to be dreamy but realistic at the same time
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Many thanks for selecting my poem ❤
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This is an interesting subject and a provoking piece as well. It does bring to mind many times being in a church that did not feel like church, more like a show. So I understand how you could feel this way. You have certainly described it in a very vivid way as well. Congratulations on this publication.
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I really enjoyed this.
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‘where the laity get high on preaching’. An interesting line……
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