Randy McClave Poems

Though I do not wish to hurry my own demise
Some men though seem not to worry about their dying,
To some I think that they will be leaving others a surprise
With unpaid bills, taxes, and ex's wishing and crying.
...

She told me more than a mouthful is just a waste
Larger the size she said takes away from the firmness and the taste,
Smaller and the firmer is the best way for any man to enjoy
But, then I said to her; If you are too small they may think you are a boy.
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When this life of mine is over
And then I will go to my eternal rest
What about my accomplishments here on earth
Will they all be remembered, and will I feel blessed.
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On your knees,
I would like you please
As you have been many times before,
I do not want you as a wife
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When I meet my creator at the last judgment
A tear in my hand to him will be my only present,
I will not present him with a list of people that I have hated
Nor, will I show him the lives that I had soured and that I fated,
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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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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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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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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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The church bells all rang,
And the choirs they sang,
Singing to one and all; ‘Glory Hallelujah'.
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