Randy McClave Poems

I was born in the city of Ashland,
Nowhere near or on the hot beaches sand,
I was born near the river and the mountains,
Not near the museums, waterfalls or fountains.
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They called him a nigger, go figure
Because of the color of his skin,
Is that a freedom of speech, that we teach
That by colors we can judge all men.
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She told me she could take me to heaven,
But, she ended up taking me to hell,
I was looking for joy, peace and happiness,
Where we ended is where lust and sorrow did prevail.
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Old, old Nick, why do you do the things that you do
With all the grief and turmoil you enjoy putting me through,
Why do you always enjoy throwing these temptations up at me
Why do you like to see me, screaming in pain and also in agony.
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The church bells all rang,
And the choirs they sang,
Singing to one and all; ‘Glory Hallelujah'.
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I hear a knock, knock, knocking at my front door,
Which awakens me so very early in the morning;
But, to that announcement I vigorously ignore;
As I take that sound as a bad sign and a warning.
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He never won a ribbon or an award,
In any event that he had ever entered,
Nor had he never won a trophy as a reward,
Even though he was taught and mentored.
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I looked at her and she gave me the whammy,
And from that moment on I was infatuated with Tammie,
I knew that soon that she would be my ultimate fate,
But, until then I first had to get her to go on a date.
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I received from her a tender kiss,
That she gently placed upon my lips,
She gave it to me as though to verify,
That she wasn't there to say, “hello”, but to say, “goodbye”,
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No school for today,
There was no school yesterday,
And probably no school for tomorrow;
The children they are all glad,
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