A Man Is
A Man is,
Is what a Man does
What he does, is what he believes.
If he ever stops doing
In what he does believe
He will never again believe.
For he will be a disgrace
In his own grace
A rejection to his sight,
While doing the things
That he once had denied
Now he lives from the roots of his lies.
He will say one thing
Then he will do another
Liken a disease under cover,
While thinking it is good
And also thinking it is fine
Then destroying themselves in that crime.
Sometimes he is good
And then sometimes he is right
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poem by Randy McClave
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Probably Not
It may not be tomorrow,
And it might not be at your life's end,
But one thing that I know for certain,
We certainly; will meet again.
It might be when your down and troubled
And you are searching for a friend
But then you cannot find anyone there,
And then definitely, we will meet again.
Will I help you as I have done before
When you were my love that I sought
I will then look at my hands and fingers
Then say to myself; probably not.
I will think about our past
As though looking at a mirror on the wall
I will remember the times I helped you up
And then the times that you let me fall.
I will remember all the lies you said
While you were holding onto my hand
I was your Husband you were my wife
But you called someone else, your man.
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poem by Randy McClave
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Wake Me!
Wake me when the war is over
Then tell me who won the fight,
“ hoorah ” for us if we have won,
and if we lost, then GOD wasn't on our side.
Then let me know just why we fought
And the reasons that we might die
Refresh my memory of this war once more
So never again must I ask why.
And if anyone asks if I did fight
While I was station way over there,
Thank them all and tell them of course I did
And thank them for keeping me in there prayer.
And tell them all no medals home will I bring
As I fought just for home and glory,
“MMM”, I like how that sounded
I think That will be my story.
I never fought for hate or for love
Never fought for the red, black, yellow or white
I never fought for riches or for wealth
I fought for my leaders, as they told me to fight.
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poem by Randy McClave
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Live With Yourself
How can you live with yourself
Spoke the old woman to herself
As she stared into her cosmetic mirror
Then she sadly cried another tear.
She thought again of her own past
When she swore forever, but it didn't last
Remembering he people she used and also hurt
Her soul she lost, now for which she searched.
The blames she had placed on all others
While never her fault but always another
Never saw the crimes that she did
As inside of her mind from them she hid.
Always someone else's fault but not her own
Is that why she's at peace when she's all alone
Putting herself always in front of pities line
What was hers is hers and her ways a crime.
No one has suffered as much as she had suffered
And she has endured more than any other
At least that's the stories she wants to believe
So her eyes are always closed so she doesn't see.
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poem by Randy McClave
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Death Of Love
When my arm is cold and numbed
And then laid to its final rest
I wander what thought that it could have
If only to God and man it could confess.
When my eyes close for their very last time
What would be the last sight for them to see,
Would it be a sight, that gave a delight
To be cherished by my soul through me.
When my fingers loose their sense of touch
What touch would be missed most of all
Would it be the roses in the summertime
Or the many leaves, that I touched in the fall.
When my lips quiver their last time to close
What would be the last thought of it to miss
Would it be to say a prayer or maybe speak a thought
Or would it be, to give my one last kiss.
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poem by Randy McClave
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Burden To Carry
Every man has a burden to carry
And some seem to carry it very well
While others complain, about the burden and strain
And as their fall from grace to all they must tell.
They will blame all others for the life they live
And then brag and lie for pity and shame
They will tell themselves to halt, that it was never their fault
So they figure their loss will also be their gain.
Every man has a burden to carry
And some need to carry that burden alone
As they don't seek help, from no one but themselves
And only GOD will feel their pain or hear them moan.
The burden they have is their right of passage
As they walk through life to become a man
Every step that they take, another worry they will forsake
And truly that a vigilante only he should understand.
Every man has a burden to carry
And so many carry it with a vigor and pride
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poem by Randy McClave
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Little Man Syndrome
He is though a very short man
To the world he must always prove himself
Tired of woman laughing when he walks by
And hates it when children calls him an elf.
When other man talks he always shouts
When other men walks he has to run
As though his disease his known to himself
As what he has is the little man syndrome.
So he goes out and buys himself a bike
And then buys a pair of high heel boots
He wants people to think he is truly a man
He even sometimes wears a small boys suit.
He has a short temper as he is a short man
Some times he tries to tell others want to do
But he gets ignored which is quite common
To the world his existence he must always prove.
He drinks and smokes to make himself feel tall
Must lie and steal at what other men do own
Always has seconds to what other other men had first
In the world of man he is always alone.
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poem by Randy McClave
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A Puppet On A String
A puppet on a string is all that you are,
And all that you ever will be
Your told what to hear and what to say
And you're even told what you can believe.
You are not free as you were once before
As you gave that and your dignity away
Now you are told where to go and what to wear
And you were even told to change your name.
Your watched and not trusted wherever you go
And you must ask permission to leave
And that is the life that you chose for yourself
Now for you there is only shame and pity.
You're a puppet on the string as that is you
Your puppeteer tells you how to act
He tells you what to cook and when to sleep
And when to bed him and how to react,
But what can you do, as you have nowhere to go
Everyone knows of your lying and your ways
Your own daughters are confused because of you
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poem by Randy McClave
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Go Back
Why don't you go back from where you came
As we don't want your type here anymore
As all you brought was sadness and pain
And other ideas that we weren't looking for.
Please take back the way you live your life
And also the things you do and what you believe
As everything was happy before you arrived
But now its not that way anymore, so please leave.
Wished you would leave before you planted more seeds
Of how you lived your life and what you did and done
As we get sick when we know of your past deeds
Wished you had stopped that temptation before it begun.
You don't have that values that we have here
Nor our virtue or honesty and of course no pride
You cast your shadow in hate and dishonesty and fear
And we don't want any of that in our heart or at our side.
I see our children and I then think about them
As I remember what you did to your very own child
The one you said you loved you taught them sin
And you blame everyone else when they went wild.
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poem by Randy McClave
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Like Her Mum
She's just like her mum
Her dad did say,
As we sat and spoke for a bit.
So sad are the things
That she has done to you,
In my heart there is another candle unlit.
My poor little lassie
She has done it again
That son, is why that I am crying,
As what she has done to you
Was also done to me before,
And I too, felt like dying.
Her Mum whom I loved
With all of my heart
Did to me the very same things.
She went behind my back
More than once in our life
Then forgot about me and our rings.
All these excuses that she gave
And all the times that she lied
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poem by Randy McClave
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