Tattoo
Some people might say that I am a prude
Because of my body, and it is not tattooed,
But I am no animal, and no ones property or slave
So having myself marked, that I do not crave,
My body indeed is a piece of art
Not a road sign to stop, or go, or where to park,
My body is the way that it was when I was born
And if I want decorations, colorful clothes will be worn,
I look in a mirror and I see myself
With the cuts and burns and blisters and all else,
There is no markings on my body that I will be ashamed
And all that I have, pridefully it will be claimed,
I do not need a tattoo to express who I am
And if you don't accept my views, I don't give a damn,
I will not allow any person to place any inking upon my skin
As I know for myself and soul that is just a sin,
I am proud of my body with no shame or any guilt
With no tattoos or markings I am the temple that GOD built,
I am not a showoff or braggart or a follower which is true
That is why this man, will never have a tattoo.
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poem by Randy McClave
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Love Of A Woman
The love of one woman
I wonder what is it worth.
Could it be measured in dollars and cents
If for it we had to search
Would it be worth all the riches
That one man does own
And would it worth dying for
Knowing that he would not be alone.
Could it ever be measured
With just a ring upon the hand
Knowing the devotion and love is yours
And not to be given away to another man.
The love and honesty that she has
The greatest gift a woman could give
And that she doesn't give out freely
But gives it to one man as long as he does live.
She keeps all her oath's and her vows
To the one man that she does love
And never will it be shared by other men
As that promise is known by GOD above.
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poem by Randy McClave
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Lied And Cheated
As she had lied and also cheated
With sins before she had repeated
So after all of her sins and lusting
I find her both sinful and disgusting
Goodness in her finally was defeated.
She walks the trail she walked before
Not only as a woman but as a whore
To ridicule and label herself once again
In front of all, even GOD and men
Never will she be loved or ever adored.
She tell her lies and speaks them well
She craves not heaven but only hell
With not passion or virtue or morality
And with only the presence of venality
Her soul and conscience was an easy sale.
She hides the truth so others will not see
Of her life and truth and what she believes
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poem by Randy McClave
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I Don't Care
I don't care where I live my life
As long as I have you,
I don't care where my home is
As long as there is us two,
I don't care if we live in a house
Or in a mansion, or even a cave,
I just want you at my side
Where together, forever we will stay,
I don't care to count out my money
Every nickel, penny, quarter or dime,
I don't care to spend all of our money
On our place that is yours and mine,
I don't care if the nights are cold
At the place that we will call home.
I don't care if the days are hot
As long as I have you and I am not alone,
I don't care what country we are in
Or where finally we will lay our roots,
I don't care what language me might speak
As long as I can still say I love you,
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poem by Randy McClave
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Kiki The Pug
She waits so patiently at my front door
Always waiting for my arrival from work or the store
And when I arrive home she yaps and wags her tail
As though she is the huntress, and I am her quail,
She wants for nothing, but just to be at my side
And happy she is and her excitement she can't hide
All day long with me she wants to run and play
I know never from my side will she ever runaway,
She patrols my house during the day and night
Chasing away the critters that come into her sight
She'll sit at my side as though waiting for my command
And she always comes to attention, whenever I stand,
When the night arrives and I finally go to bed
She goes to her pillow and lays down her sleepy head
She waits for morning, just to be at my side once again
Her purpose to me is love, companionship, and comedian,
If people ever ignore me as though I am not there
I will look down at my side and I will see love and care
Indeed, Indeed truly, she is mans best friend
And she and I will be together, until the very end.
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poem by Randy McClave
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Think
Dream not of today but think of tomorrow
Think only of happiness and not of sorrow
Think not of now but think also of then
Dream not of losses but think of a win.
Think not of tears but think only of joy
Think not of of loosing but think of glory
Think not of dying but think of living
Dream not of wanting dream of giving.
Think not of fighting think first by talking
Thing not of running think about walking
Think not of begging think of earning
Dream not of quitting think of learning.
Think not of lies think only of the truth
Think not of rumors search instead for proof
Think not of taking and think not of using
Dream of your deeds let that be your choosing.
Think not of hate think of hope and love
Think not of cheating and think not of lust
Think not only of yourself think about others
Dream of our world we all are sisters and brothers.
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poem by Randy McClave
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Tears Of A Woman
The tears of a woman
Which can be used to deceive
The many weak minded man
And the man who will easily believe.
As they are the mighty tools
To sway a mans heart and his mind
So she can use and control him
Anyway and of course anytime.
As the tears that she uses
Sometimes in her mind they are conceived
To get the pity that she needs and wants
And used so her lies someone will believe.
And the effect of the tears she had shed
Many men through their course had died
While she had used them once again
And all because a woman had just cried.
As the tears run down her cheeks
Even before they touch the ground
She is ready to deceive once again
GOD pitied the sad soul she has found.
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poem by Randy McClave
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Walk Of Shame
I think back now of the shame and disgust
Sadly all she knew was how to sin and lust
The mantle of woman-hood she happily did bust
Knowing not of devoutness nor not knowing of trust.
Leaving one man and then going to another
Happily to other women she is like no other
As for lies, sin and deceit, by them she will smother
Ironically she was once known as a wife and a mother.
Out from her mouth comes hatred and lies
Turning others words around, and uses them in disguise
Living for pity and help, and answering with tears and sighs
Doesn't care who she hurts or who falls, or who even cries.
She now walks the road that leads to her grave
Sin and deceit she will always long for and crave
Living the life of a coward, could never be brave
Her soul she has lost, and sadly it she tried not to save
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poem by Randy McClave
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The Bully
They coerce and they abuse and they also harass
As though that is their only purpose for living
It gives them a power when others they try to surpass
But their deeds and themselves, are unforgiving,
They enjoy to punch and laugh and ridicule
As though to feel better about their own rejection
Their targets are weak, so that is their fuel
But they do it, as they know not of love or affection,
They pick on people who are weaken than them
As though they are jealous and envious of their being
But sometimes the aggressor is a she and not a him
As through sad blackened eyes we are seeing,
They enjoy to pester and get on anyone's nerve
With no concerns or worries about them or any person
In the end though they will get what they truly deserve
But until then their life and hating and uncaring will worsen,
They are overbearing, they badger and they intimidate
They are also arrogant if we could understand them fully
Braggarts and showoffs they are who everyone does hate
And to us all they are simply known as the bully.
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poem by Randy McClave
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My Opinion
You might not agree with what I see
You might object to a reasoning or thought
But it is your right to speak and disagree
And to say that you can't; I will not.
As we all have the right to think and believe
As we all have the right to live and breathe.
You might not stand by a judgement
You might say you are right and they are wrong
But then you have a right for your own statement
As in life it is better to live and get along.
Living is so short as we all know and see it
And dying one day, we all try to forget it.
You might not hold onto my conviction
You might believe my sentiment is unjust and wrong
Though my words might bring you only friction
But that is debatable as the night is long.
Views are solid and are unshaken
While evidence is pure and awakened
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poem by Randy McClave
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