The Slumlord Poem by Randy McClave

When it's time of the month to pay my rent
My landlord comes to my house all hellbent,
He's there to collect every red cent
Even before a dime of it by me can ever be spent.

But, when I need him to fix my door or my air
Or to repair the rug that has a tear,
Or to remove from my house his old broken chair
He's never ever there.

If I'm not there when he knocks on my door at the rental
He then goes and gets very mental,
Never is he kind or courteous or gentle
Then in a huff he drives away in his Continental.

Many other tenants rents houses that he owns
And on many of those houses he still has loans,
They are on different streets and in different zones
And many of the renters like me also have rental moans.

By none of the renters is my landlord adored
His rent many of us can just barely afford,
Someday I know without doubt that he will get his just reward
But, until then, he's just a slumlord.

Randy L. McClave