Randy McClave Poems

I'll always give thanks to my dad
For giving me all that I had,
For always being a such a great father figure
He indeed was my hero.
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The weatherman says a storm is coming
Everyone then takes off running,
People then get scared and begin to panic
They see it as furious and gigantic.
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Is a fanny pack out or is it in
Around my waist is it acceptable to wear a bin,
Just to carry my wallet and all my other stuff
Including my keys and food and my makeup.
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With Ukraine I stand
By God's almighty hand,
And if it should ever fall
It will be by the Devil's gaul.
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First they attacked the immigrants
And no one did really care,
But, unconditionally I always did
So, for them all I always said a prayer.
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Take my gun!
You can keep it,
Holding it is not at all fun
And I'm tired of carrying it.
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Before you hate that stranger because he's a different color than you
Remember this, Jesus was also a different color too,
And before you hate them because of the language that they speak
Remember, peace and asylum is what they do desperately seek.
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It's an early morning dawn
The rooster crows and he begins to yawn,
Today for him is just another quest
As he awakens again in the old west.
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Any person that crosses over a picket line
That action by them it will soon define,
It will show a lack of character and no moral belief
From unity and honor they will not find any relief;
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I hear the ringing of the church's bell
Sounding off from the old wooden steeple
Upon that sound my soul does swell
As I am summoned to it, like the other church going people.
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